Millie Smith and her partner, Lewis Cann, were overflowing with joy when they discovered they were expecting their first child. Parenthood felt close enough to touch. With twins running strongly in Millie’s family, she couldn’t shake the feeling that this pregnancy might hold a surprise—and she was right. An early ultrasound confirmed that she was carrying twins. The news brought an instant rush of happiness, quickly followed by quiet worry, as doctors carefully explained that while one baby appeared to be developing normally, the other was facing serious and complex medical challenges.
From that moment on, Millie and Lewis knew their journey into parenthood would be unlike anything they had imagined. They learned medical terms no parents ever want to hear and were forced to prepare for the possibility that their time with one of their babies would be heartbreakingly short. Still, they clung to hope where they could, determined to treasure every kick, every scan, and every moment they were given with both of their daughters.
At just 30 weeks, Millie went into early labor. The couple welcomed two tiny girls into the world—fragile, beautiful, and deeply loved. One of the babies was diagnosed with a rare, life-limiting condition that meant she would not survive long after birth. Knowing this, Millie and Lewis made a conscious choice: instead of focusing on what they were losing, they would pour all their love into the precious hours they had.
They named their daughter Skye, a name filled with meaning and comfort. For Millie, the sky represented peace, openness, and a place where Skye would always feel close. Whenever she looks upward, she says, she feels her daughter with her. Skye lived only a short time, but her life was surrounded by tenderness—soft blankets, gentle cuddles, whispered words, and a love so intense it would stay with her parents forever.
After saying goodbye to Skye, Millie received compassionate care from hospital staff, including access to a special space designed for families to spend private, meaningful moments with babies who have passed. But as the days turned into weeks, a new kind of pain emerged—one Millie hadn’t expected. While her surviving daughter, Callie, remained in neonatal care, people stopped acknowledging that Millie had ever been a mother to twins. Visitors and other parents, unaware of Skye, would make well-meaning comments that unknowingly reopened fresh wounds.
Simple remarks—“At least you have one healthy baby” or “Is she your only one?”—cut deeply. They erased Skye’s existence, even though she was still so present in Millie’s heart. Millie realized that grief doesn’t disappear just because life continues, and she wondered if there was a way to gently signal that a family was carrying both joy and loss at the same time.
From that realization came a powerful yet simple idea. Millie designed a small purple butterfly symbol to be placed on incubators, cots, or cribs. The butterfly represented babies who had “flown away,” while purple was chosen as a universal color—one that wasn’t tied to gender or specific diagnoses. It was a quiet sign, but one filled with meaning: a way to honor babies who were deeply loved and deeply missed, and a reminder for others to approach families with extra care and sensitivity.
What began as one mother’s act of compassion quickly grew into something much larger. The purple butterfly initiative expanded into the Skye High Foundation, named in honor of Millie and Lewis’s daughter. Today, the foundation works with hospitals around the world, providing butterfly symbols, memory keepsakes, and resources to support families navigating the complex emotions of neonatal loss.
Through awareness, empathy, and small acts of understanding, Millie continues to keep Skye’s memory alive while watching Callie grow and thrive. Her story is a testament to the enduring bond between parent and child—and a powerful reminder that even the smallest gestures can bring comfort, dignity, and recognition to families walking the delicate line between love and loss.