Only weeks after Millie Smith and Lewis Cann learned they were having twin baby girls, they learned that only one would survive.
On April 30, after 30 weeks of a high-risk pregnancy, Smith delivered identical twins, Callie and Skye, the latter who lived only three hours.
Later in neonatal intensive care unit (NICU), Callie slept without her sister in the incubator, with her loving and grieving parents watching over her. In the unit with other babies, an overwhelmed mom of healthy newborn twins innocently told Smith that she was “so lucky” to not have two babies.
Crushed by the words, the new mom couldn’t find the words to explain her loss. Then, she realized that Skye’s legacy was to help other families who lose a child, and it came in the form of a purple butterfly.
In November 2015 Millie Smith and partner Lewis Cann found out they were having their first Child. Smith, who has twins in the family, said she had a “gut feeling” about having a duo and 10 weeks later, doctors confirmed she was expecting identical twin girls.
Less than two weeks after the excitement of knowing they would double the children in their home, the British couple were devastated to learn that one of their babies had a fatal condition and wouldn’t survive after birth.
“During the scan, the doctor didn’t say anything. I was very excited and loved seeing the little babies, but she was silent. Both Lewis and I immediately knew there must be a problem,” Smith said.
Doctors shared the news that one of the babies had anencephaly, which according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) affects about one in 4,600 babies across the U.S. It’s a serious birth defect where a baby is born without parts of the brain and skull, and “almost all babies born with anencephaly will die shortly after birth.”
Knowing that one baby would die soon after birth, and that there were risks involved for their other baby, the couple decided to move forward with the extremely high-risk pregnancy.
Over the next several months, Smith and Cann named their twins Skye and Callie. “We knew that Skye needed to have a name before she was born,” Smith said. “Knowing she would only survive for seconds or minutes, I wanted her to be named during that time.”
The meaning behind “Skye,” she explained “was somewhere we knew she would always be, that we could look up at the sky and remember our baby.”
When Smith went into labor after only 30 weeks on April 30, she needed an emergency C-section. To help navigate the loss, the couple had a “bereavement midwife” during the birth, and they were put I a special room the called the “Daisy Room,” where families can spend time with a baby before and after she/he passes.
“When the girls were born, they both cried. This was a huge moment, as we were told that Skye would not make a noise or move,” said Smith, who was thankful to have three hours with Skye before she died. “We were cuddling Skye when she passed away. This was the worst moment in our lives. I have never ever felt heartbreak like that before. But I am proud that she fought for so long to spend time with us.”
Born premature, Callie had to stay in NICU while she gained some strength and also in the unit were three other sets of twin.
“Most of the nurses were aware of what had happened, but as time passed, people stopped talking about Skye. After about four weeks, everyone acted as though nothing had happened, meaning the families around me had no idea about our situation,” Smith recalled.
One morning, a stressed mother whose twins were also in NICU, harmlessly said to Smith that she was “so lucky” to not have twins.
“None of the other parents knew what had happened or anything about Skye. The comment was completely innocent and more out of humor…They weren’t to know that I did at one point have two.” Smith continued, “But the comment nearly broke me. I ran out [of] the room in tears and they had no idea why. I didn’t have the heart to tell them what had happened. A simple sticker would have avoided that entire situation.”
It was in that moment Smith realized she had to create something that would speak for parents who had just lost a baby, ensuring the misunderstanding never happens again.
She designed a poster for the NICU explaining both hospital personnel and visitors that any incubator with a purple butterfly on it means that one or more babies, in a set of multiples were lost.
“I chose butterflies, as I felt it was fitting to remember the babies that flew away, the color purple because it is suitable for both boys or girls,” said Smith.
The purple butterfly concept–now under the Skye High Foundation–has spread to hospitals in several countries around the world.
Callie is now a lively, happy seven-year-old, and twin’s memory lives in purple butterfly cards along with other initiatives to help families with babies like Skye all over the world. The purple butterflies now come in numerous forms, like ornaments, cards, blankets, stuffed animals and more.
“Ultimately I will never be able to stop this from happening but the more support groups we can set up and put things in place like the stickers the better it will be. It’s the hardest thing anyone has to deal with,” Smith said.
I Found My Daughter Sleeping in the Basement—Her Shocking Reason Will Haunt Me Forever
In-laws are supposed to help and support you, right? Well, not in my case. This is the story of how I got my revenge on Linda, who thought she could mistreat my oldest daughter, Tessa.
I have two daughters. Tessa is 10 years old and comes from my first marriage. She is kind, quiet, and always wants to make everyone happy. Sadie is 4 years old and is from my current marriage to Grant. Sadie is very different—she’s full of energy and always asking questions. Grant loves both girls, but his mother, Linda, has a different attitude toward Tessa.
Linda is… how do I say this? She’s the kind of woman who wants everything to look perfect on the outside. But if you look a little deeper, you’ll find someone who is judgmental and cold, especially toward Tessa. The worst part? It’s all because Tessa isn’t Grant’s “real” daughter.
For years, I tried to keep things calm. “She’s just old-fashioned,” Grant would say. “She’ll come around.” But she never did. Linda made little digs at Tessa.
Tessa, bless her heart, never complained. She just stayed quiet, maybe thinking it was her fault. But I saw it and heard it, and it made me furious every time. Grant? He didn’t see it like I did. He loved his mom and thought she was just being her quirky self. But I knew better.
Sometimes it was a rude comment about Tessa’s looks. “Oh, Tessa, that dress is a bit too grown-up for you, don’t you think?” Or she’d pretend to forget Tessa’s birthday and give Sadie lots of gifts instead.
Things started to fall apart after my mother passed away, and it felt like my world was turned upside down. There was no warning, no chance to say goodbye. My heart felt shattered in a way I can’t explain. I could hardly breathe through the grief.
We had to fly out of state for the funeral, which was the last thing I wanted to deal with. Every minute was a blur of sadness, but we had to think about the girls. My mind was so clouded with pain that even small choices felt impossible.
Linda, of all people, offered to watch the girls while we were gone. It was the last thing I wanted. I knew Tessa wouldn’t feel comfortable with her, and I hated leaving her with someone who never treated her well.
But what choice did I have? I was drowning in grief, and all our close friends were busy with their own lives. I felt so alone and helpless. It was either leave the girls with Linda or find another option, which felt impossible at that moment. Against my instincts, I agreed.
Three exhausting days later, we pulled into the driveway. The house was eerily quiet, almost too quiet. I felt a heavy weight in my chest as I got out of the car. Linda had left a note on the counter: “Took Sadie to the park. Be back later.”
A knot formed in my stomach. Something felt off. “Where’s Tessa?” I muttered, searching the house. I called her name, but there was no answer. My heart raced, and a chill ran down my spine.
That’s when I noticed it. A faint light flickering from the basement window. I stopped, confused. No one goes down there. The basement was old, dusty, and full of junk, and we barely used it. For a moment, panic set in. Had someone broken in? Did burglars get in while we were gone?
My heart pounded as I reached for my phone, turning on the camera just in case I needed proof. If someone was down there, I wanted to document it. I could feel my breath catching as I slowly opened the basement door, the musty smell hitting me.
My hands shook as I hit record and began carefully walking down the stairs, trying to calm my nerves. The wooden steps creaked under my feet, and every sound echoed in the quiet.
As the light got brighter, I finally saw her—Tessa. My sweet girl, curled up on the cold floor, wrapped in an old blanket, fast asleep as if she had been forgotten. Her little body was still, her face pale, and her cheeks were streaked with dried tears.
“Tessa?” I whispered, rushing to her side. I gently shook her, my heart breaking. “Sweetheart, what are you doing down here?”
Her eyes opened, and she sat up, looking small and defeated. “Grandma Linda told me to sleep here,” she said softly. “She said Sadie is her real granddaughter, and I shouldn’t get in the way.”
I froze. The room spun around me. “She what?” I asked, my voice shaking with disbelief and anger.
“She didn’t want me around,” Tessa said, her bottom lip trembling. “She said I could sleep down here, and she didn’t let me eat dinner with Sadie. She said they needed ‘special time.’”
I felt my blood boiling, anger rushing through me. My hands clenched into fists as I tried to keep my voice calm. How could she? How could Linda do this to my child?
But I didn’t explode. I swallowed my rage, knowing that confronting Linda wouldn’t fix this right now. I wrapped my arms around Tessa, pulling her close. “Tessa,” I whispered, my voice thick with emotion, “I’m so, so sorry. This will never happen again.”
Linda had crossed a line, and she had no idea what was coming.
I wanted to drive over to Linda’s house and tell her off. But I held back. I realized that confronting her wouldn’t be enough. I needed to make sure she felt the weight of what she did. I knew just how to do it.
Linda’s annual family reunion was her pride and joy. Every year, she gathered the whole family and a few close friends in her beautiful backyard. It was her chance to show off and act like the perfect matriarch.
I didn’t let on that anything was wrong when Linda brought Sadie back later that day. I smiled and thanked her for watching the girls, even though my blood boiled inside. “I’ve been thinking,” I said, keeping my tone light, “Maybe I could help you with the reunion this year. I know how much work it is.”
Her face lit up. “That would be wonderful! It’s so much to handle, and the more help, the better.”
Perfect. She had no idea what I was planning.
Over the next few weeks, I worked closely with Linda to plan the reunion. I acted like everything was fine between us, all while planting seeds with family members. In casual conversations, I mentioned how Tessa had been feeling left out lately.
“It was tough while we were at the funeral,” I’d say, “especially when Tessa had to sleep in the basement. It’s a shame, but Linda wanted some alone time with Sadie.”
The responses were just what I hoped for—shock, concern, and some raised eyebrows. “The basement?” they’d ask, their voices full of disbelief. “That’s awful.” The gossip spread quickly, and by reunion day, people were already talking about Linda’s treatment of Tessa.
The day of the reunion came, and Linda was in full host mode. The backyard looked perfect, the tables set with her best dishes, and the smell of grilled food filled the air. Family and friends arrived, hugging and smiling. Linda soaked in the compliments, playing her role as the perfect host.
Then came the highlight of the day—the slideshow. I had put together a series of photos from recent family trips, showing the girls laughing and having fun. But in between those happy moments, I added clips of Tessa curled up on the basement floor.
The atmosphere shifted immediately. People went from admiring the cute photos to gasping in shock. I heard whispers spread through the crowd like wildfire. “Is that Tessa in the basement?” someone asked. “Why would she be down there?”
I didn’t need to say a word. The photos spoke for themselves.
Linda’s smile faded as she realized what was happening. I could see her eyes darting around, trying to gauge the crowd’s reaction. Her hands fidgeted nervously as people began approaching her, asking questions and demanding explanations. She stammered, trying to brush it off as a misunderstanding, but it was too late. The damage was done.
Linda tried to defend herself, but no one believed her. Her reputation as the perfect grandmother and hostess was in ruins, and she knew it. The rest of the family saw her for who she really was now.
I stood back, watching it all unfold with satisfaction. Tessa was by my side, holding my hand, and I whispered to her again, “No one will ever treat you like that.”
As for Linda, she hasn’t spoken to me since that day, but honestly? That’s just the cherry on top.
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