a bump in the road

I don’t know about you, but sometimes it’s hard for me to write a post about something when I have something ELSE kind of BIG that I want to tell you and can’t yet. Kind of like when I know I have a coffee date with someone later in the week, I tend to avoid them, because I’m afraid we’ll run out of things to talk about before we get together (silly – I know it’s silly).

Anyway, so my blog has been a little silent for the past month, and I’ll tell you the reason. I’m finally ready to tell you the reason.

The reason is that I found out I was pregnant in early August. Finally, finally pregnant. We’ve waited longer than some, and conception does not seem to come easily – we want children so badly. We love children. We love our nieces and the babies that surround our lives. We want our own. And I cannot tell you how overjoyed we were to finally see those double lines on that little pink stink and know that our dreams were being realized.

And so I know you’re “supposed” to wait 12 weeks, to get out of the “danger zone”, to tell people. But we rushed right out and told our immediate family…immediately. At, like, 5 weeks.

Last Monday, I hit the 10 week mark. I know, I know. You’re doing the math. Julianna, you’re still telling us early! It’s not quite 12 yet!

Well. That’s because last Friday evening, just about two days ago exactly, I lost it. It’s gone. I say it, because of course we don’t know if it was a boy or a girl. I think boy, but my sister thinks girl. And we’ll never know. Suddenly, quickly, within just a couple of hours, it was over. And all that hope and joy and anticipation went down in a (pardon the graphics) red sea of disappointment.

It’s so painful. It’s so hard. It’s so hard to understand. I don’t think we’ll ever understand, and I know we probably don’t need to. But we made so many plans and hoped for so many things, and it’s all gone. As my two-year-old niece put it yesterday, “Baby – all gone.” Kind of love how kids have no filter.

As painful as it is right now, though, I would not trade the last 8 weeks for anything. They were some of the happiest days of my life – I got to be pregnant, and people actually knew about it! I got to take a bump picture (with not really any bump, but the symbolism remains), and people gave me baby clothes and baby shoes and we arranged our baby room and we had so much JOY and so much HOPE! And I wouldn’t give that up. Even if it meant not having to go through this miscarriage, I wouldn’t give it up.

So this isn’t how you were supposed to find out. You were supposed to find out next Monday, when I posted the most amazing, most happy, most upbeat post I’ve ever written to tell you that I was 12 weeks pregnant, in the “safe zone”, expecting my baby on April 13 of next year. But this is the way that it is. And I considered not telling you at all, but Morgan pointed out yesterday that unshared, secret grief builds invisible walls, and I don’t want walls. I want transparency and friendship and openness and love. I want honesty. (Does ANYONE know Billy Joel’s “Honesty” song? That’s my life’s MOTTO. Listen to it.)

You don’t have to feel bad for me/us. There are plenty of people who do already. That’s not the purpose of the post. The purpose is to tell you. To let you know what’s going on in my life, because isn’t that, after all, why you read this blog?


6 thoughts on “a bump in the road

  1. Julianna, I’m so sorry for your loss. I commend your transparency and courage in sharing something so intimate and personal. I have not experienced the loss of a pregnancy but we did struggle to conceive for many years. I learned so much about faith and trusting in Hashem’s timing – even though it was a painful process. I will keep you and Joshua in prayer.

    • Thank you, Crysta. G-d forbid you should ever lose a pregnancy. This experience, going back a year and a half, when we first began the journey, has definitely taught us a lot about faith and trust in HaShem. I absolutely agree. In fact, I would venture to say that few things teach that more effectively! But yes, it is painful. And it’s perhaps more painful to struggle and then finally achieve pregnancy, only to have it taken away. It’s hard to understand why G-d would give, just to take away, but we trust that His reasons are good, and beyond our understanding.

      Thank you for your prayers. We appreciate you.

  2. I made it through three successful pregnancies before I found out how much it hurt to lose a tiny growing life. I took fertility for granted until then. But it really hit me hard that being a mother means that I get to bring x-number of lives into the world…but I don’t have the power to keep them in the world for as long as I want to. Each soul has it’s mission and even though I’m their mother, I don’t get to know what the mission is or when it’s completed. You are now a mother, Julianna. You’ve done the work of nurturing, of giving your all for another. I pray that you are soon blessed with another pregnancy that gives you the end result of a healthy baby so that you can continue to put into practice that delicate balance of loving, nurturing and letting go.

    For what it’s worth, here are the thoughts that were running through my head as I struggled my way through my miscarriage two years ago.


    Sending love to you and Joshua and praying for healing and happy news soon.

    • Thank you so much for sharing your love and thoughts with me, Jessie. I will admit that Joshua and I also took fertility for granted when we got married; my sister seems to be able to blink and get pregnant, and with our family history, I assumed the same would be true for us. G-d has taken us on a hard but much-needed journey to see how valuable these little lives are. How children truly are treasures from Him. And also, how we have absolutely no control over conception or how long we get to keep these gifts.
      I wish that my thoughts immediately following the miscarriage were as righteous as yours – I have always thought of you as a Holy Woman, and I think your post is a case-in-point – but they weren’t. I don’t really remember any thoughts. Just pain and disappointment and a struggle to accept what had just happened. One day (maybe next time, if there is a next time, G-d forbid), I will be more like you. 🙂

      Thank you again and, B”H, happy news soon.

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