Maisy
"(...) She was born in February 12: her first sound was a gentle whimper and she was put into my arms wrapped in white and I loved her. She was tiny and her sking hung from her body waiting to be filled with hours of feeding. (...) I loved her so much that my heart hurt.
(...) I would lie in bed with Maisy beside me in her cot and long for her to wake. I would watch every moment of her face. Every sigh she made sent a shiver of glee through me. She seemed to dream. Her eyes and mouth would flutter and I would wonder at the workings in that tiny head. (...)
Even in those early days I would whisper to her and tell her how very proud I was of her, and what a huge privilege it was to be her mummy.
(...)
I had said many times that I didn't mind whether she was beautiful or ugly, clever or thick - the thing I wanted her to be was kind. (...)"
(Emma Smith on her dead baby girl, The Times August 1 2000)
(...) I would lie in bed with Maisy beside me in her cot and long for her to wake. I would watch every moment of her face. Every sigh she made sent a shiver of glee through me. She seemed to dream. Her eyes and mouth would flutter and I would wonder at the workings in that tiny head. (...)
Even in those early days I would whisper to her and tell her how very proud I was of her, and what a huge privilege it was to be her mummy.
(...)
I had said many times that I didn't mind whether she was beautiful or ugly, clever or thick - the thing I wanted her to be was kind. (...)"
(Emma Smith on her dead baby girl, The Times August 1 2000)
