Cotton on (phrase): To begin to understand something
Sunday marked five years since Summer was born and died and it was the first anniversary where it felt lighter, with zero tears my end. It’s started to feel like an out of body experience, that it all happened to someone else, almost. Except I have the public diary published via this website, which proves otherwise. Where I would have felt guilty about this disassociation previously, I associate it instead with gradual healing and the acceptance that we will (and should) all change over time. That’s not to say I would willingly go through it all again, to get here today. Rather that it happened and I was thankfully, eventually able to move forward. I am one of the lucky ones, where my third loss marked the lowest low of my fertility journey (to date that is, I don’t want to jinx anything here).
I decided not to (for want of a better word) “torture” myself this year, by looking at photos and videos from the day Summer was born. I can’t quite articulate why – I guess I just didn’t feel it was something I needed to do. Perhaps it’s because I feel more comfortable knowing that although I don’t necessarily explicitly think of her every day, I am still aware of her all of the time. I am quietly confident that I carry Summer continually. I’m always both consciously and unconsciously on the lookout for her name – and as a daily devourer of books, that means she’s always on my mind, somewhere. So not thinking of her outright, feels okay. It’s not dissimilar to how I’ve frequently worked a whole day, busy in the office, only to walk out at lunchtime or the end of the day, realising that I haven’t thought of Ellissa all day. Although some part of my brain tells me I “should” feel guilty about this (and I quickly log into her nursery app), the rational part acknowledges that that’s perfectly reasonable too.
Because I’ve been feeling more at peace with Summer’s birthday, I wasn’t expecting any signs from her this year. Although she’s ALWAYS sent me one (on her 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th birthdays), this year it felt like a reasonable trade-off. Quid pro quo, almost. I did secretly hope my pregnancy insomnia would “coincidentally” strike at her birth time, but instead I awoke about 10 minutes late, which try as I might, doesn’t count. I went back to bed and went about my usual night wakings into Sunday morning, wondering what this year’s “first day of Summer” would bring.
It was a regular Sunday – I took Ellissa to her baby ballet class (a franchise which coincidentally do a lot of fundraising for Tommy’s, so it’s been a great way to mindfully spend time with all of my babies), but with one main difference – it was HOT and SUNNY. It really did feel like the first summer day of the year. So much so, that when another parent commented on my wearing a nice dress, I could nonchalantly reply “first day of Summer!” without her even cottoning on to what I was really saying, or who I was dressing for.
After class, a friend and I usually grab some cakes and treats from the coffee shop across the road and head back to my house for a catch-up while our girls play. Instead, Ellissa and her little pal sat down so patiently in the shop (unprecedented for our 2 year olds, I tell you!) that we decided to dine in with them, something we’ve not been able to do since we were on maternity leave – leaving me smiling at the impromptu summery breakfast tea party, we were able to enjoy with our littles. I didn’t even mind that Ellissa stole most of my raspberry smoothie – it was a treat day for her, being her sister’s birthday, after all.
After heading home for lunch and Ellissa’s nap, I started updating Instagram with some of the birthday photos I’d been sent. After an increasing number of people had sent me lovely floral pictures, I went to check on our back garden. You see, since the daffodils bloomed on the 21st February at the library, I’d been on my own daffodil watch at home. I wasn’t sure we’d get any this year (I’m an unintentional prolific plant killer!) but lo and behold – there they were. The daffodils had chosen Summer’s birthday to bloom. My eyes went straight to a particular bunch of three, and there was my sign. Dafffodils are Summer’s birth flower and she was my third baby. But she’s also the middle child that links them all – third in line after BoC and My Baby, but also the first of three of my births when counting Summer, Ellissa and the baby I’m currently carrying. It just felt like her doing.
After pointing out the blooming beauties, the three of us (James, Ellissa and I) went out for a short walk nearby that James had planned. None of us wore coats. Summer was indeed here. For the first time ever on Summer’s birthday, we ate cake! It was something I had always hoped to do, but it had never yet felt right – far too celebratory for far too sad a day. We found a quiet spot, lit a candle (suitably stressed, about not wanting to start a forest fire!) and sang happy birthday to Summer. After demolishing the cupcakes in minutes, Ellissa declared “I like sister’s birthday” which really was the ultimate icing on the cake.
All of the incredible Fifth Day of Summer photos can be found here. Although, you might have to click this icon from my @anjulies_mumoirs Instagram profile instead, to see them:
As has become the unexpected tradition, the photos poured in ALL day, from when I awoke at 7am, to just before I called it a day at 10pm. From all over the country, and indeed the world, with photos from Europe, North America and Australasia. Thank you to everyone who contributed and celebrated alongside us. I really expected the photos to dwindle this year, so was taken aback by how many people remembered our daughter alongside us. It really meant a lot. And though not every year will be as light as this one, 2025 really did put the “happy” into “happy birthday Summer”. Wherever you are little one, we see you still. Gone, but never forgotten.
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