Five (number): Equivalent to the sum of three and two
Lustrum (noun): A rare literary word that means a period of five years
As it approaches five years since Summer was born and died (it’s her birthday, this weekend) there are two particular blogs that have been playing on my mind:
Sarah Michelle Gellar-ing and The Lustrum
The former, because it’s what I hoped to be doing at some future point. The latter, because it’s the best piece of advice I can give to anyone struggling. For those who can’t be bothered to re-read them (I don’t blame you) – I’ll paraphrase.
1) Sarah Michelle Gellar-ing: Whilst growing up, Sarah Michelle Gellar and Freddie Prinze Jr were absolutely everywhere, all over the telly and in all the best teen films. Then the amazing pair got married and all went quiet. I always liked to think it’s because they were (are) off somewhere, just being happy. I wanted this blog to be like that too. Although I always knew I would miss writing (and I really have) – the coveted outcome was that the blogging would just grow quiet, as I was off living happily ever after in the real world again.
2) The Lustrum: The idea that you’ve got to take your pregnancy hope where you can find it. So instead of focusing on the “maybe this time, next year” mantra – to give yourself a five year fertility window instead. If you can do it, this is actually really great advice. So much can change in five years (for better, for worse), but it’s enough time to move from plan A to B to C etc, to hopefully reach that end goal and/or find some peace and acceptance as to where you eventually find yourself. Thinking in one year intervals is far too narrow – it takes at least 9 months to have a baby in your arms, after all. But five years, five gives you some breathing room.
So here I am, a lustrum later. Five years since my third pregnancy ended and still in want of magical powers – but instead of the crystal ball, this time it’s time travel. I wish I could go back to the day, week or months after Summer died to tell myself to hold on. To be able to reassure myself that better days are coming, that the best is yet to come.
Indeed, the overwhelming emotions I feel today are relief and gratitude – something I never would have thought possible back then. A lot can happen in five years. Since 9th March 2020, not only have we welcomed our daughter (Ellissa), but I am now pregnant for the 5th time, days away from giving birth to a sibling.
When I think about the start we had (three consecutive losses), never in my wildest dreams did I think we would be in this position now. For anyone who has read my blogs, you will know that I genuinely never thought we would even have one child in our arms. So for me, it’s a fitting example of how five years is a helpful way to hope for things. So yes, I wish I could time travel to reassure myself of that.
I know that not everyone will be as fortunate after 5 years, and for that I’m deeply sorry. I understand how hurtful reading some of this may be. I toyed with not posting, but I ultimately feIt that I owed it to this community (and my old self) to provide an honest update as to how it’s all playing out. As always, I just hope that this helps more people than it hurts.
It’s still not entirely plain-sailing, our end. Although the days are immeasurably lighter and worlds away from my darker 2020 days, it does still hurt. Like when Ellissa recently pointed to a framed photo of Summer and said “sister! I want sister to wake up” (the reason Ellissa likely made that comment, is because my mum placed Summer’s photo in a prominent place in our house for a religious ceremony (and I never moved it back). At a later date, she must have told Ellissa that Summer’s asleep in the photo – both things I’m pleased she did). Although it was heart-wrenching, I still prefer Ellissa knowing who Summer is and feeling comfortable talking about her. I feel this about everyone in our lives now, it’s sort of a non-negotiable prerequisite.
As we approach Sunday; there were many of Summer’s birthdays where I never thought I could feel anything other than overwhelming sadness, but this year – her upcoming 5th birthday – feels different. We will continue to mark The First Day of Summer, as has become her birthday tradition (as always, you are all welcome to join us), but I feel this year could be the turning point, for when it really does start to feel a tad more celebratory. I never knew that could be possible, five short/long years ago.
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N.B. Interestingly, at the end of my original lustrum blog from April 2021 (which I do actually think quite a witty, worthwhile reread) I wrote:
P.S. I wonder what happens to the loss diagram after you’ve had a healthy baby? Does it reset (James still says “if we can have one (healthy) baby, we can have two”) or do you pick up where you left off? Personally, I can’t see how you can return to the beginning. I imagine, it would be a small step backwards, towards the origin, but the exponential curve will still loom ahead. We know too much.
My subsequent thoughts, four years on:
- The diagram after a birth: It’s probably a new line which pops up, in between. There’s more hope and confidence (because it’s no longer zero), I perhaps have a higher tolerance for loss (I.e. I could perhaps cope “better”), but I do indeed know too much, so it’s certainly not a return to ignorant bliss where a positive pregnancy test equals a baby
- My husband is (thankfully) always right.
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I’m so happy that you keep updating, and congratulations on the imminent birth of your second child! And Happy 5th birthday to Summer 😇