Mia cuddling Laine

Laine honored Mia, always.  Whether telling people about Mia at random and unexpected moments (I have a sister Mia – she died and she is in heaven), or talking about her all the time at home “Mia liked it when I kissed her”, or not occupying the spot where Mia slept.   The last point was particularly emotional for us.  Laine piled two pillows in the precise spot where Mia slept.  She never let anyone sleep there after Mia died.  Putatively the pillows at an early age were also there to prevent her from falling off the bed, but Laine was rabid at times if someone tried to move them.  If a pillow fell off, as sometimes happened, in the middle of the night, Laine would invariably get up, hunt for it in the dark, replace it, then return to sleep.  Laine and Mia loved each other.  In many ways we believe they were connected souls.  Laine arrived three years after Mia arrived, and left three years after Mia left.   The entwined spirits of our daughters make for a powerful duo.   They were profoundly life altering for us and for many around us.

The picture above and below were taken in our family room.  Mia and Laine are resting on a sheep skin rug, listening to music.  Laine is a newborn, and sound asleep.  On the left is Anna’s pump, with which she expressed milk for over two years to feed Mia, who was completely intolerant for mysterious reasons to any kind of alternative oral nutrition we could give her.  In the end Mia was switched to TPN by her Stanford physicians.  Laine’s presence was uplifting to Mia.  Mia was comforted by Laine in a way that was not possible by anyone else; Mia’s pain was eased by Laine in a way that was not possible even by opioid analgesics.