I don’t feel like posting anything other than this today.
You see, our mummy blogging community was rocked a few short weeks ago by the devastating news that one of our friends lost her 9 month old daughter Matilda Mae. Her mummy (Jennie) has touched us all by sharing her most personal thoughts on her loss. All of us have hugged our babies just that little bit tighter and all of us have openly wept.
It seems many of us feel dumbfounded by our grief for a little girl we haven’t even met, yet knew so well thanks to her mummy’s blog. Just days before this tragedy I sat watching a video of Matilda shaking her musical instruments to Jennie’s singing and saying to Craig “We have all this to come with Dexter”. Put simply, as Dexter is only 2 weeks younger, I used Jennie’s blog as a benchmark of what is to come. It doesn’t seem fair (it seems unthinkable) that Dexter will continue to grow into a little person and reach all those special milestones, and Matilda will not.
Many of us have quietly reflected on our own - feeling unable to offer Jennie anything other than our thoughts. Until now, I’ve felt completely unable to put this into words. It felt as though I was trespassing on Jennie’s grief and my small messages of condolence on Facebook and Twitter were so entirely inadequate. Yet Jennie has encouraged us all to talk about Matilda and has found some small comfort in the fact that we’re here; here to talk to and here to listen. All the words we’ve written aren’t just words on a screen. They exist beyond our blog’s and social media accounts; We’re talking to Jennie, we’re talking to ourselves, we’re talking to others.
No better is the power of images and words understood than by Jennie’s reaction to all the pictures of candles and stars people have tweeted. We’re not just ‘virtual friends’, we’re fellow mummies and daddies who have been so touched by these events that we’ve been moved to tears and have reached out to one another. We’ve haven’t just read the news and shut our laptops. We’ve found more time for impromptu hugs and kisses with our children, read up on SIDS prevention and made adjustments, and chatted openly to one another about it.
Matilda Mae’s funeral is today and there’s been a tidal wave of support for Jennie on Twitter and Facebook. We’ve all quietly read the beautiful order of service that Jennie has shared with us and have felt a knot in our stomachs. Once again we all feel a little bit useless and have leant on one another to talk about how we feel. In truth, all we can possibly do today is take a quiet moment and think about our friend whose heart is broken, send thoughts and messages of strength and support to her, and spread the word about her beautiful little girl. This doesn’t seem enough, but it’s all we can do.
Although I am not religious, I wanted to share a poem that will be read aloud on this heartbreaking day. This has obviously given Jennie some small comfort, and its a beautiful tribute to her little angel.
From Matilda Mae’s Order of Service
Reading: Please Don’t Cry
Daddy please don’t look so sad, mummy please don’t cry.
Cause I’m in the arms of Jesus, and he sings me lullabies.
Please try not to question God, don’t think he is unkind.
Don’t think he sent me to you and then changed his mind.
You see I’m a special child, I am needed up above.
I’m the special gift you gave Him, a product of your love.
I’ll always be there with you, so watch the sky at night.
Look for the brightest star and know that’s my halo’s brilliant light.
You’ll see me in the morning frost that mists your window pane.
That’s me in the summer showers, I’ll be dancing in the rain.
When you feel a gentle breeze from a gentle wind that blows.
Know that it’s me planting a kiss upon your nose.
When you see a child playing and your heart feels a tug,
Don’t be sad mummy, that’s just me giving your heart a hug.
So Daddy don’t look so sad and mummy please don’t cry.
I’m in the arms of Jesus and he sings me lullabies.
Author ~ Claudette T. Allen
