Wednesday 7th November 2007
Our day started like any other. Little did we know that it was going to be the worst day of our life. Rhiya woke up really excited as we were due to celebrate Diwali the next day and she was chatting away about seeing fireworks at her grandparents house. She had a new dress for the occasion and had been counting down the days until she got to wear it. Rhiya never got to wear that dress. What happened next would change everything, our lives would never be the same again.
Rhiya's father received a call from Eton Manor nursery at 11.11am and was told to go to Whipps Cross Hospital immediately. He was told that Rhiya was not breathing and that whilst paramedics were trying to resuscitate her, they couldn't find a pulse. At this stage we knew nothing about what had happened, but assumed that she'd been taken ill suddenly and was going to hospital for treatment. We certainly never thought for one second that we would be coming home without her.
We arrived at the hospital and were ushered into a relatives room. It was here that a nurse and a member of the nursery explained what was happening. The atmosphere in the room told us straight away that something was seriously wrong. We were told that the doctors were doing their best to resuscitate Rhiya. When we asked if she was going to be okay they couldn't answer us. We were allowed to stand close to Rhiya while the doctors did all they could to save her life. The next few minutes were a blur, we were in shock at the sight of our beautiful little girl surrounded by so many doctors working so fast, trying to pump some life into her. With each attempt we witnessed a violent jolt pass through Rhiya, as we were willing her to respond. This is an image that will haunt us for the rest of our lives. It was so hard to take in what was unfolding. How could it be that she was happy and healthy less than three hours before, and now she was dying?
Despite all the doctors efforts, they pronounced Rhiya dead at 11.40am. It was at this point that we began to fall apart. Both of us were shouting at the doctors to continue trying to resuscitate her, not wanting to accept that she was gone. Her tiny body was covered in tubes and yet she just looked like she was sleeping. We wanted to take her home with us and if there hadn't been a nurse stopping us, we probably would have. They cleared the room and told us we could be alone with our daughter.
We cradled her in our arms for as long as we were allowed to, but it didn't seem long enough to say goodbye to our precious little girl. The panic of trying to take in every little mark on her face, every eyelash and her lovely smell is indescribable, knowing that was the last time we would ever see Rhiya again. It was especially difficult as she seemed to be emitting little noises, surely they'd made a mistake and she was still alive? The nurse told us that is was normal to hear these sounds, as her body released gases. We struggle to capture and put into words the chaos around us as family members arrived. Shock, confusion and cries from each person filled the room as they discovered that our special little girl had died. We sang twinkle twinkle little star to Rhiya like we did many times before her bedtime. Finally they told us that we had to let Rhiya go as her body needed to be kept cool. They asked us to put a nappy on her, which we didn't want to do as she'd been so proud of herself for being toilet trained and used to tell us all the time what a big girl she was to not wear nappies.
Afterwards, we were asked to wait in the family room. There were several police officers coming in and out of the room, appearing to have discussions on their radios. Then they sat down and explained that Rhiya had been discovered hanging in a playhouse. It was at this stage that the reality of what had happened started to sink in. Rhiya had died because something had gone horribly wrong whilst she was in the care of her nursery – not because she had become unwell as we first assumed.
The shock of this plus what we had just witnessed was too hard to comprehend , it felt like a terrible nightmare, one that we are still fighting to wake up from. It seemed like we were living someone else's life. This was the kind of thing that you read about in the newspapers. But suddenly it was us having to deal with the fallout from a terrible tragedy. To add to this, now that we had some understanding of how Rhiya died, we were and still are devastated by the thought that Rhiya suffered or cried out for help. Not knowing whether she struggled to try and get free or even realised what was happening is like being tortured over and over again.
The following weeks were a living hell. Due to the circumstances in which Rhiya died, two post mortems were necessary. Conversations between us and the coroner felt surreal. The knowledge of our little girl being cut open and several of her organs removed for analysis was just too much to bear. We could not accept that this was our child they were referring to.
After five weeks we were allowed to lay Rhiya to rest. This was the second hardest day of our lives. Seeing your own child in a coffin is the worst feeling imaginable that no words can describe. No parent should have to experience what this feels like. It was hard to comprehend that Rhiya was a perfectly healthy child one month and that we were at her funeral the next. Knowing that our precious little girl's life and her future was taken because the people we trusted to care for her did not fulfil their duty made this day even more unbearable.
The next few days ran into weeks and then into months. Our sense of loss became greater with every passing day. For us the world had simply stopped turning. Especially as it seemed as if our precious daughter had died for no reason at all. This incident should never have happened and could have easily been prevented. As the facts surrounding her death soon came to light, our resolve to fight for justice for Rhiya became stronger. We will do our utmost to make sure that individuals and nurseries per se are held accountable when innocent and otherwise healthy children die in their care.