A letter to Matilda Mae

PrintIf you’ve read my blog for a while, you’ll remember I’ve mentioned the tragic story of baby Matilda Mae who went to sleep one night and never woke up.  I discovered her story as I found the huge community of bloggers and have been drawn to it ever since – because Jennie, Matilda Mae’s mummy, writes so very beautifully and honestly, because I’m constantly reminded of my daughter and because, despite the continual heartbreak, Jennie still manages to inspire and share ideas that have brough fun to my family.

This weekend marks one whole year since Matilda Mae died – and bloggers everywhere are writing to her to show that she is not forgotten.

Dear Matilda Mae,

As I quietly gave my daughter her bedtime milk in the dark of her bedroom this evening, I thought of you – as I often do at that time of day.  I enjoy the peace and closeness with my youngest and relish her sleepy cuddles.  And I watch her settling in her cot, cuddling her bunnies and rubbing her eyes.  And I think of your mummy and her last night with you.

I cannot imagine the horror your mummy went through – and continues to experience, although I feel some tiny part of the fear in my stomach as I leave my daughter alone as she sleeps.  I wish your mummy had you safely asleep in your cot upstairs right now and that I wasn’t writing to you in the sky.

I never had a chance to meet you, nor have I met your mummy in person.  I heard your name for the first time on the day of your funeral, when twitter was filled with mummies everywhere showing their support for yours.  I won’t forget reading your story that first time while my own daughter, just a few months younger than you, was napping.  I remember grabbing the baby monitor and listening for my girl, paralysed with fear, imagining the worst.

Since then, I have visited your mummy’s blog often – always struck by her strength, honesty and infinite love for you and your family.  Because of you, I truly appreciate what I know I am so lucky to have.  I cuddle my children even closer, focus on the things that really matter and try to make the most of every day I have with my little ones.

In your name, I have blown birthday bubble kisses, stopped to admire bright stars at night and worn pink and purple.

bubblesI have bid in auctions and walked in wellies – and contributed in a tiny way to the incredible effort your family is making to raise funds for the Lullaby Trust in your name.  You should be so proud of your mummy.


I have learned about messy play, tuff spots and so many brilliant play ideas and products from your inspirational mummy – and enjoyed tales of your funny twin siblings.

And I have been struck repeatedly by the unfairness of life.  I wish I wasn’t writing to you now – because that would mean you were growing and thriving in the love of your family.  But now that I know your name and your story – know that it will not be forgotten or in vain.  That in this little part of London, you are thought of every day and the impact of your life is felt.



I am linking to more letters to Matilda Mae

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