On the 5^th of August this year, I found out I was pregnant. A seed of hope was planted, but it also came with considerable anxiety. Baby Mia also carried with her all the hope and expectation of the previous two pregnancies that had sadly ended in miscarriage. We dared not feed that seed of hope, out of fear for what the future might hold. The little seed germinated in spite of us. On the 9th of September, we went for an early scan and were relieved to see a tiny wriggling 9 week old baby on the screen. The tiny baby, no bigger than a grape, seemed to wave her little hand at us and took a hold on our hearts. Now, well tended for, the seedling of hope grew stronger and put down little roots.

It helps me to think of Mia’s story in parallel to that of the Little Prince. We had a reading from this wonderful little book at our wedding. The Little Prince came from an asteroid and after wandering around the universe, landed on earth. A year after landing on earth, the little prince meets a pilot in the desert and asks the pilot to draw him a sheep, so that the sheep can eat the baobab seedlings that plague his little planet. This first excerpt of the book is from before the little prince began his wandering, about a flower that grew on the little prince’s asteroid.

‘One day, from a seed blown from no one knew where, a new flower had come up; and the little prince had watched very closely over this small shoot which was not like any other small shoots on his planet. It could have been a new kind of baobab. But, the plant soon stopped growing, and started to develop a flower. The little prince, watching the growth of an enormous bud, sensed that this could well lead to a miraculous apparition. But the flower continued the preparations for her beauty in the shelter of her green chamber. She chose her colours with the greatest care. She dressed slowly, carefully, arranging her petals one by one. She did not wish to appear all crumpled like a poppy. She only wished to appear in the full glory of her beauty.’

The little prince tended to his rose with love. We tended similarly for the little baby growing in my tummy.

One day, on earth, the little prince comes across a garden of roses:

‘To be sure’, he says to the roses, ‘an ordinary passer-by would believe that my rose looked just like you. But she is far more important than all of you, because she is the one I have watered. And it is she I have placed under a glass dome. And, it is she that I have sheltered behind a screen. And it is for her that I have killed the caterpillars (except the two or three saved to become butterflies). Because she is my rose.’

Mia’s 12 week scan was the first sign that things weren’t right. The hope of having a healthy baby shattered. The hope of having a happy baby, however, kept on growing, in spite of the knowledge that there was a high chance she would not survive. The first few days after the 12 week scan were filled with what seemed like unbearable pain. On top of that, Nathan had to go away for a night to a conference. We are lucky enough to have wonderful friends and two of them looked after us in Southampton and Newcastle respectively. We went to every scan thinking we might find that Mia’s little heart had stopped beating. But at every scan, her little heart was resolutely beating away. Not only that, but she was growing in size and wriggled around for the ultrasound probe. She never waved at us again. In a dream, she held my finger, as if to say goodbye, but her heart carried on beating away for weeks after. Eventually it became clear that her heart would not be able to sustain her life outside the womb and we made the decision to end the pregnancy.

The little prince wanted to go back to his planet to tend to his rose and asked a poisonous snake to bite him so he might return. The pilot, who is also the narrator of the story, did not want to leave the little prince at this time. This is the description of the little prince’s last moments on earth.

"Little man," I said, "tell me that it is only a bad dream--this affair of the snake, and the meeting-place, and the star . . ."

But he did not answer my plea. He said to me, instead:

"What is essential is invisible to the eye . . ."

"Yes, I know . . ."

"It is just as it is with the flower. If you love a flower that lives on a star, it is sweet to look at the sky at night. All the stars are a-bloom with flowers . . . And at night you will look up at the stars. Where I live everything is so small that I cannot show you where my star is to be found. It is better, like that. My star will just be one of the stars, for you. And so you will love looking up at them all. They will all be your friends. And, besides, I am going to make you a present . . ."

He laughed again.

"Ah, little prince, my dear little prince! I love to hear that laughter!"

"Precisely, that will be my gift…”

"What are you saying?"

"The stars mean different things to different people. For some they are no more than twinkling lights in the sky. For travellers they are guides. For scholars they are food for thought. But for everyone the stars are silent. Except, from now on, just for you"

"What are you trying to say?"

"In one of the stars I shall be living. In one of them I shall be laughing. And so it will be as if all the stars were laughing, when you look at the sky at night . . . You and only you will have stars that can laugh!"

And as he said it, he laughed.

"And when you are comforted (time soothes all sorrows) you will be happy to have known me. You will want to laugh with me. And from time to time you will open your window, just for the pleasure of it . . . And your friends will be astonished to see you laughing whilst gazing at the sky! Then you will say to them, 'Yes, the stars always make me laugh!' And they will think you are crazy. I shall have played a very naughty trick on you . . ."

And he laughed again.

"It will be as if I had given you, instead of stars, a lot of little bells that can laugh . . ."

And again he laughed. Then he became serious again:

"Tonight… you know . . . Do not come."

"I shall not leave you," I said.

"I shall seem to be in pain. I shall look a little as if I were dying. It is like that. Do not come to see that. There’s just no point . . ."

"I shall not leave you."

But he was still worrying.

"I am telling you this, partly because of the snake. It must not bite you. Snakes are vicious creatures. They can bite just for the fun of it . . ."

"I shall not leave you."

But a thought reassured him:

"It is true that they have no poison left for a second bite."

That night I did not see him set out. He had left without a sound. When I managed to catch up with him he was walking along with a quick and resolute step. He merely said to me:

"Ah! You are there . . ."

And he took me by the hand. But he was still worrying.

"It was wrong of you to come. You will be unhappy. I shall look as if I were dead; and that will not be true . . ."

I said nothing.

"You must understand . . . it is too far. I cannot carry this body with me. It is too heavy."

I said nothing.

"It will be like an old abandoned shell. Not anything to be sad about . . ."

I said nothing.

He was a little discouraged. But he made one more effort:

"You know, it will be very nice. I, too, shall look at the stars. All the stars will be wells with a rusty pulley. All the stars will pour out fresh water for me to drink . . ."

I said nothing.

"That will be such fun! You will have five hundred million little bells, and I shall have five hundred million springs of fresh water . . ."

And he too said nothing more, because he was crying . . .

"Here it is. Let me go on by myself."

And he sat down, because he was afraid. Then he said, again:

"You know--my flower . . . I am responsible for her. And she is so weak, so trusting! She has four tiny thorns to protect herself against all the world . . ."

I too sat down, because I was not able to stand up any longer.

"There now--that is all . . ."

He still hesitated a little; then he got up. He took one step. I could not move.

There was nothing but a flash of yellow close to his ankle. He remained motionless for an instant. He did not cry out. He fell as gently as a tree falls. There was not even the slightest sound, because of the sand.’

The 6 weeks that passed between the 12 weeks scan and the final decision were hard, but we found a new strength in our relationship to help us cope and make the many difficult decisions we were faced with. This was our present from Mia and it will be with us always. Every decision was made easier and the grief made more bearable by focusing on Mia. It is incredible how important a tiny person, just 7 inches tall, can be to those who love her.