Sophie was 10 years old when she passed away suddenly.
Sophie was a vibrant, happy, funny, gentle, loving little girl who loved unicorns and rainbows. She loved her family and hanging out with her older sister, Hannah, they were best friends.
On Sundays, Sophie liked to make everyone pancakes for breakfast and this day she made them with blueberries. It was a warm day in February 2016. Hannah and Sophie wanted to go in the pool which was very normal. They both started swimming lessons from the age of six-months, and I had no concerns about their ability in the water. Sophie was diagnosed with Epilepsy at age three. Up until her accident she hadn’t had a seizure in two years. We were looking at decreasing her medication.
I was going to the supermarket and Andre – Hannah and Sophie’s dad was at home.
Hannah and Sophie were in our family swimming pool relaxing, each on a blow-up unicorn and flamingo. I was at the supermarket and rang to check if they wanted anything else. Hannah got out of the pool to answer the phone. In the space of 90-seconds, it’s suspected that Sophie had an epileptic seizure, went into cardiac arrest, and drowned. When Hannah went to get back in the pool Sophie was at the bottom.
Hannah went and got her dad from the shed, and bravely rang triple zero. Sophie fought hard to keep breathing as she was taken by ambulance to Caloundra Hospital, stabilised, then flown onto Queensland Children’s Hospital via helicopter. We went home and I packed a bag for Sophie. I packed her favourite unicorn and blanket. Her favourite nightie and some clothes to come home in. I thought she might only stay for a night or two and then we would bring her home. Andre, Hannah and I drove to Brisbane and to be honest, I don’t think we said a word the entire trip. It was like we were in a horrific dream.
We called our immediate family in South Australia who flew to Queensland to see Sophie. While Sophie was in hospital it was important to me to be as close to her as I could. I laid in bed with her skin-to-skin, I massaged her hands and feet, braided her hair, put lip balm on her little lips and tried to care for her the best way I could. I read her favourite story, sung songs, played music, cried, kissed her gently and told her how much I loved her.
Sophie had further testing, and it was then that we received the absolute worst news imaginable from the doctors – she was brain dead. There was absolutely nothing that could be done to keep our beautiful Sophie alive. My heart was broken.
We spoke with the social worker and doctor about organ and tissue donation then had a meeting to decide if we would like to go ahead. Andre, Hannah and I decided that our beautiful Sophie was such a giving little girl and if any of her organs could save another person’s life then we would donate her organs. From this point we could change our minds at any time. This time also gave us eight precious hours with Sophie.
I allowed all family members to spend alone time with Sophie to say their goodbyes. For me this would be important part of the grieving process for everyone.
As I laid in bed with Sophie skin-to-skin and cuddled her, I knew that soon I wouldn’t be able to feel her again. My baby girl came into the world skin-to-skin with me, and she left the same. After her operation to have her healthy organs taken, she came back to me looking beautiful. She had her nightie on, her unicorn tucked into beautiful pink sheets with her and her blanket over her. Sophie looked like an angel.
I left the hospital without my baby girl, this was heartbreaking and then when we got home, I froze and couldn’t get out of the car to go inside. Inside to a home where Sophie belonged. Her things were all over the home, all the memories, flashbacks of her accident, her bedroom… it was hard.
I never thought I would ever need to bury my child and here I was planning a celebration of her life. I wanted it to be perfect. And it was… Andre and I spoke about our beautiful little girl, Sophie’s school teachers spoke and told beautiful stories about her, we had a white casket with a unicorn and rainbow. Everyone who attended wrote a message for Sophie. We had music, balloons, cake, photos and her favourite story ‘Time for Bed’. Together Andre and I carried Sophie’s white casket to the hurst. My heart was broken.
I also planned a celebration of Sophie’s life in our hometown of Mount Gambier in South Australia. It was similar but with a singer who sung ‘You are my sunshine’ – which everyone joined in singing. We had lots of balloons, photos, cake, stories, hugs and tears.
For me, every birthday, anniversary, Christmas, Easter or any family get together is difficult. It always reminds me that Sophie isn’t present with us. Around Christmas is particularly difficult for me, it’s Sophie’s birthday a couple of days before, then Christmas, my birthday, New Year, then the anniversary of her accident and the anniversary that she passed, and then Hannah’s birthday. Sophie always loved birthdays, not just her own, but everyone else’s.
Every year I celebrate Sophie’s birthday with a cake. On her anniversary I take time to sit and reflect and do something that I think she would like to do. Not a day goes by when I don’t think of Sophie.
My emotions run high as I reflect on what I have been through during the year and I set myself up for what I want to get through the next. Sophie taught me not to give up, have a go at everything, try my best, try new experiences, be grateful, be kind and be loving.
Sometimes I want to achieve little things and sometimes they are big. I don’t put pressure on myself and it’s interesting how different things come to mind when I’m sitting in silence… usually at the beach.
I’m so grateful that Sophie chose me to be her mum. My heart is broken but my memories are present.
