our beautiful, lost girls
Victoria and Madison are our daughters who were both born
prematurely, too early to survive.
This was a shocking thing to happen to us and very painful but
we think it very important that we tell their story, because Victoria and
Madison are not just our children, they are part of us and have shaped who we
are today.
As you can see, we have a special spot for Victoria
and Madison in our garden and a very special spot in
our hearts.
Our daughter Victoria Anna Bain was born 20 April 1999 but
lived for only one day.
We don't know why she came early but at 23 weeks and 6 days
Victoria was just too young to survive. Born at 10:37 pm she only weighed
620 grams and was just 27 cm long. The NICU at Royal North Shore did their
absolute best and were fantastic. Sadly, her lungs were not able to cope
and her blood flow was very weak. The next day, we took her to a private
room and held her as her life ebbed away. Jackie was there and helped us
to face our grief and experience our loss in a positive, life-affirming
way. We didn't know Victoria for very long, but we loved her. She
had a beautiful little body, all pink and translucent. Her feet and hands
were tiny but perfect. Our hearts ache with loss for a daughter's life
forfeit before it had barely began.
Her funeral ceremony was managed by Caroline and Warren.
We played the following music: Albinoni's Adagio in G minor for Organ and
Strings, Bach's Air in D major, Bach's Concerto for 2 Violins and String
Orchestra in D minor, and Elton John's Circle of Life from the Lion King.
Caroline and Warren both spoke of their feelings - this is the
text of Warren's speech:
"Why are we here today? I'm not asking how we got
here. I know how we got here. We are each of us well acquainted
with the events that got us here. My question is really what is it that
we hope to achieve here today? We know how awful and tragic Victoria's
death is. You know that Caroline and I are deeply wounded by those
events, and we know that each of you is hurting in your own way. But
what do we do next?
Katherine Mansfield, a New Zealand born writer, said
that if you wish to live, you must first attend your own funeral.
Victoria's life was so short and empty of experience, it is tempting to fill
that void with our own hopes, ambitions and desires, in effect, to make it our
own funeral. In a positive way, I would like each of you to do
that. I'd like to think that we can make this experience act as a
whetstone against which we sharpen ourselves.
There is an Irish proverb that Hope is the physician of each
misery. Death to me was a scary thought but my personal experience of
death has been different to my imagining of it. It is emotionally
painful but it has also made me look at my children and family with a wiser
and more caring eye. I believe that Victoria's death can refuel our wish
to live. Our hope can heal our misery. Sharing our suffering
confirms our humanity and our bond with each other.
Take a moment now to look into the eyes of someone you
love. Hold their hands, look deep into their soul and through their pain
to their love for you. Reflect on a small life taken before its
time. Then feel your own life force within you swelling with hope and
think of the words of Robert Frost:
The woods are lovely, dark, and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.
Sleep well Victoria and go well my friends."
27 April, 1999
After Victoria, we were so pleased that even though Harry was
born early and spent time in intensive care, he was OK and is a perfectly normal
boy.
You can imagine our shock and distress when our next daughter,
Madison Mary Bain was born very prematurely on 23 July 2001 and died
immediately.
She was another perfect little flower bud that would never
bloom. No-one has been able to explain to us why it happened. This
time we mourned our daughter's death in private and held our own simple ceremony
in our backyard. Caroline wrote a beautiful letter to Madison:
"My dear Madison, how much I miss you. I only had
you for such a short time, but I know you knew me.
Your first little kicks to let me know you were doing fine meant so
much. Oh
how I wanted you.
You are so dear and so precious, it is so completely engulfing the
sorrow I feel now you’re gone from me.
I’m so sorry I could not hold on to you to give you life.
When you were born you looked so perfect, your tiny little
hands and fingernails; those delicate little feet; and your cute button nose.
I have dreams of you and I playing on the beach with you wearing the
little jumper nana was to knit for you.
You are my angel, my precious darling and my whole body aches to have
you here. My
tummy is still swollen to remind me you did exist and that I held your tiny
life in my womb.
You were everything I wanted and your brothers would have loved you
dearly and played with you happily.
I hope you and your sister are happy and are holding each
other tight. Mummy
and Daddy love you both so very much and we will never forget you.
I know I will hold you again, and you will always be in my heart and in
my dreams. May
you be warm."
Mummy
xxxxxxxxxx
30 July, 2001
