When Millie Smith and Lewis Cann found out they were expecting a baby, they were overjoyed. As there was a history of twins in Millie’s family, she had a strong feeling that she was going to give birth to two little ones, and her instincts were right. The ultrasound confirmed that she was indeed expecting twins, but the doctors told them that one of the babies had a very small chance of survival.
ragically, one of their daughters was born at 30 weeks with anencephaly, a serious condition that affects the development of the brain and spinal cord. They learned that their precious baby had only moments or hours to live.
Knowing this, Millie and Lewis wanted to give her a name before they said goodbye. They chose the name Skye. Millie explained: “We felt she needed a name before she arrived. Knowing she wouldn’t be with us for long, I wanted her to have a name in those fleeting moments”.
The name “Skye” symbolized a connection to a place they could always remember when they looked up to the sky. “We held Skye close as she died. It was the most heartbreaking moment of our lives, but I’m proud that she fought to spend that time with us.” Skye only lived for three hours, a brief time filled with love while her parents cherished her beauty and presence.
After her death, Millie and Lewis were supported by a “bereavement midwife” and given access to a “Daisy Room”, a special room where parents could spend time with their baby before and after death. However, after Skye was gone, her memory seemed to fade; no one spoke of her, leaving Millie feeling like her daughter had never existed, which made her angry.
“Most of the nurses knew what had happened, but as the weeks went by, people stopped mentioning Skye. Other families around me had no idea about our loss”, Millie recalls.
While her other daughter, Callie, was still in the NICU, another mother who knew nothing about Millie’s situation remarked how lucky she was not to have twins. “None of the other parents knew about Skye, and that innocent comment almost broke me. I left the room in tears but didn’t have the heart to explain”, Millie said. “A simple sticker could have prevented this.”
This experience inspired Millie to design a sticker for incubators to mark the loss of one or more babies in a multiple birth. She chose butterflies to symbolise the ‘flown away’ babies and used the colour purple, which is suitable for any gender.
From this idea grew the Skye High Foundation, which promotes the Purple Butterflies initiative and helps raise awareness in hospitals around the world. The foundation also offers a range of purple butterfly merchandise.
“Although I can’t prevent these situations from occurring, I believe the more support we can provide through initiatives like the stickers, the better it will be for others who suffer this loss. It’s an incredibly tough journey”, said Millie. Today, her surviving daughter Callie is seven years old.
I WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO DIDN’T GET AN INVITE TO MY CLOSE FRIEND’S WEDDING — WHEN I CRASHED IT, I FINALLY UNDERSTOOD WHY.
The air in the elegant ballroom hung heavy with the scent of lilies and unspoken words. Guests, dressed in their finest attire, buzzed with excitement, their conversations a low hum against the backdrop of soft music. I stood frozen at the entrance, an invisible ghost amidst the throng of well-wishers.
My name was Sarah, and I was crashing my best friend’s wedding.
It had all started with a casual conversation. “So, have you heard?” my friend, Emily, had gushed, her eyes sparkling. “Amber and Ben are getting married!”
“Amber? Oh my god, that’s wonderful!” I’d exclaimed, feigning excitement. But a seed of doubt had been planted.
Weeks passed, and invitations arrived for everyone I knew – everyone except me. I tried to convince myself it was an oversight, a simple mistake. Maybe the invitation had gotten lost in the mail. Maybe Amber was planning a special surprise for me. But as the wedding date drew closer, my hopes dwindled.
The day of the wedding arrived, and I found myself inexplicably drawn to the venue, a grand old mansion overlooking the lake. Dressed in a simple black dress, I slipped in unnoticed, blending into the crowd of elegantly dressed guests.
The room fell silent as I made my way through the throng of people. Whispers followed me, a hushed murmur of disbelief and pity. I felt eyes boring into me, judging, analyzing. I had never felt so alone, so utterly invisible.
Then, I saw her. Amber. Standing at the altar, her face radiant, her eyes sparkling with happiness. But the moment our eyes met, the joy in her eyes vanished, replaced by a look of sheer terror.
And then I saw him. Her groom.
My breath hitched. It was David. My ex-boyfriend.
The memories came flooding back – stolen kisses, late-night conversations, promises whispered in the dark. David, with his charming smile and his infectious laughter, had been my first love. We had been inseparable, until he abruptly ended our relationship, citing a need to “find himself.”
The betrayal, the hurt, the shattered pieces of my heart – it all came rushing back. So this was why she hadn’t invited me. She had been afraid I would ruin her wedding, would expose their secret, would remind everyone of the man who had broken my heart.
The room seemed to spin. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me, the festive atmosphere suddenly suffocating. I turned and fled, disappearing into the night, the sound of their wedding vows echoing in my ears, a cruel reminder of the love I had lost, the trust I had betrayed.
As I walked away, I vowed to never forgive them. Never to forgive Amber for her betrayal, for the way she had used me, for the pain she had inflicted. And never to forgive David for the hurt he had caused, for the way he had shattered my heart and then moved on, without a single backward glance.
The night air was cold and unforgiving, a reflection of the icy pain that had gripped my heart. But as I walked, I knew that I would heal. I would learn to forgive, not for their sake, but for my own. I would move on, stronger, wiser, and more cautious. And I would never again allow myself to be blindsided by the betrayal of those I trusted.
Leave a Reply