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Your dear baby has died innocent and blameless, and has been called away by an all wise and merciful Creator, most probably from a life to misery and misfortune, and most certainly to one of happiness and bliss.

My mother giving birth to me was just like Lady Sybil giving birth, except that there wasn't such a tragic ending.

If watching your child die is a parent's worst nightmare, imagine having to tell your other child that his sister is dead... Although I am certain that he cried, that we all cried, what I remember more is how we collapsed into each other, as if the weight of our loss literally crushed us.

A baby is a loud noise at one end and no sense of responsibility at the other.

There was never a child so lovely but his mother was glad to get him to sleep.

She goes through the vale of death alone, each time a babe is born. As it is the right neither of man nor the state to coerce her into this ordeal, so it is her right to decide whether she will endure it.

If it were possible to talk to the unborn, one could never explain to them how it feels to be alive, for life is washed in the speechless real.

Father was very sympathetic, and if the hero of a romance was good or to be pitied, his eyes would fill with tears until he could not see.