Girl in Florence

A Tuscan Texan immersed in Florentine life

Honest Conversations: Facing Loss


This is a series that I’ve conjured up in my brain for quite some time. Admittedly, I should have posted the first edition about a month ago which is supposed to be about the realities of social media according to some who know it best but life has been very busy lately between work, improving this site and well, life. Don’t worry, it will come….

I definitely didn’t anticipate writing about a subject like this, especially during a time when we should be celebrating.

For me, when it comes to uncomfortable topics, it’s much easier for me to write things down. Preferably, in a place where no one can see me or look at me and where I can cry in peace and be a crazy woman if that’s what the day calls for. It feels as if the month of May so far agrees, with strange, oddly cool weather and many looming clouds, something I notice a lot more now as I’ve spent a fair amount of time looking out onto the city’s terra-cotta tiles through our often rain-slicked windows.

I feel as if the city of Florence as times feels my pain right now which in a weird sort of way brings a strange level of comfort.

First, I want to set up a trigger warning because not everyone might want to read this post. I know I focus on Florence, travel and life in Italy 99% of the time so if that’s what you came to this blog for, I certainly won’t be offended if you don’t want to read about my personal story of loss or grief. 

I should start with the fact that I believe that if you stand by being truly honest and transparent online, you need to stick to that – this of course should be taken at every human’s own personal discretion. 

I am the first to say that cookie-cutter aesthetic perfection does not appeal to me, online or offline, even though I naturally love taking beautiful photos of my city. I like the idea of doing what you love but without living in fear of being judged for being human when shit truly hits the fan. 

The unfortunate truth is that we lost our baby last week and as you can imagine, we are devastated, shocked and overwhelmed with a kind of grief that I didn’t even know was humanly possible. 

I was nearly at the five-month mark and predictably felt quite safe knowing that we had made it past some important pregnancy milestones. These are the kind that you literally count down the days to get to with a mix of fear and happiness that interchange within the day; 9 weeks, 12 weeks, 16 weeks…. often marked with notifications in an app with pings saying “today your baby is the size of an avocado” offering advice to stay hydrated or invest in a new bra.  

To say we were happy would be a gross understatement. It was such a beautiful time in our life because I felt this enormous responsible for something larger than me, and so did Nico. He was ready with our “dossier” of pregnancy documents, and tubs of 5% greek yogurt, he was way more updated on my body than I even was. We were both ready for what we knew would be an extreme life change, that which would bring a new chapter in our story; albeit one that would come with sleepless nights and endless amounts of poo. 

I was a little nervous in the beginning of this year because last year we suffered an early miscarriage, something I’ve never mentioned before on this blog but dealt with by confiding in the few that knew I was pregnant and by reading articles like this. I was devastated and very confused, however I knew at that point that it happened to many women that early out of the gate. 

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the only life hurdle there was to confront in 2019. 

Earlier this year my husband lost his mother after a long bout of cancer. Just the summer before we were back in his hometown of Castelnaudary, reveling in the local food festival celebrating cassoulet, their local beloved dish, so it was rather unbelievable that in just a short time things could change so quickly. It was the worst way to ring in a new year but the knowledge of a new and unexpected pregnancy, helped us cope with the terrible loss of someone we loved.

Growing up, I rarely envisioned what the future might be like other than what I didn’t want it to be and trust me, I had plenty of examples of that around me at the time. My dreams were mainly aimed at going far, far away and to reinvent life in all of its possibilities in a big city like NYC or Los Angeles to do something I loved, something with people, somewhere where I felt could be the “real” me. 

With that thought in mind, Los Angeles is the place I moved to as soon as I was 18 and I worked several jobs while getting myself through community and then normal university. California became a happy place where I could be finally free of hot, humid climates that carried an air of hope, possibilities and future. You might have read this already on the blog so sorry for the repeat, but I often think to understand who someone really is, you need to know a bit of backstory too not just the glossy side they choose to show after. 

I worked with study abroad students at my university of Cal State, students who wanted to study abroad, and those coming to America from China, Europe and even as far off as Saudi Arabia. We would twirl our fingertips over destinations on maps as shared their own coming to America dreams and expressed fears and hopes for their own experience in America, land of unstoppably dreams and possibilities.  

Eventually life brought me to Italy, first as a study abroad student and then to live full-stop because I was crazy enough to take the extreme highs and lows of not having “a plan”. Believe me, it’s better to have a plan.

I’ve written about this several times on the blog, here and there but I can tell you that expectations were nil because I didn’t want to think too far into the future and didn’t have much to go on as I mainly met expats who were married and established in Italy for 10+ years or students content to “enjoy their experience” for a limited time. It was awkward to be in that “middle world” and just before it was extremely easy to meet anyone on the internet from Facebook community groups and meet ups. It bit how I feel about being considered a technical “millennial” because I was born in 1984. 

I just wanted to see if I could “make it” as an actual functioning working adult in Italy on my own merit. Luckily after years this did happen and these past few years have been a wonderful example that life can be what you make of it if you have the right person along for the ride.  

Nico is most definitely that person.

We met in 2008 (you can read more in this post here) and I initially wrote him off as a nice-but-serious biomedical engineer who was light years ahead of most of my friends in terms of life. At the time, most of the people I knew were juggling just as many jobs as I was, dealing with just as mediocre relationships, ranting about permesso paperwork, and apartment hunting was nothing short of frightening combined with the next best/worst option of living with one’s Italian family gifting fuzzy-bear pajamas for Christmas.

Despite being a year younger than me, Nico was far too mature for his age for all of us friends and yet still accepted our penchant for late nights and bad drinks in mediocre bars in Florence.

I found myself always wanting to be next to him at parties, dinners or more often aperitivi, a chance to converse with a person with an interesting life experience (he had previously lived in Canada for his masters and came from a small town that he referred to as “depressing” in the southwest in France).

The fact that he would choose to come to Florence, forcing himself to learn an entirely new language from scratch; content to work in an entirely Tuscan ambiance after two years in Canada was intriguing. 

Our romantic relationship didn’t start until six years later, when I became single and we both realized that there just might be more to us than a close friendship. I should say that It really kicked off after sharing a meal of Tuscan cow guts, at one of the very first dinners I was ever invited to for the blog. We stomached our way chewing through cold trippa salad and boiled cow tongue with green sauce, but we had a good time and plenty of wine to wash everything down, including my feelings that maybe, just maybe, there was something there.

From the very beginning, it was as if a courage lightbulb finally decided to turn on.

I understood for the first time that relationships could be easy. Mutual respect being for us, the most important thing; to also always remember that as individuals we were people that liked to be around other people and as a couple, we made it a point to always stay independent. To value our friends and family and alone time and also make sure we were each other’s priority. 

Devoid of torturous emotional mind games and (thanks to improved life conditions at the time) it was blissful to be without the pressure of the constant struggle in those early years of “how can I stay in Italy and uh…survive?” I know a lot of you guys can relate to the struggle, an important time to discuss lest anyone think it was as easy as buying a plane ticket or getting sent abroad on a work contract. 

Life was good, and after a year we moved in together in my small flat near Piazza della Passera, and a year after that we got married. A winter wedding in late November of 2015, home to Florence’s moody skies and a day that brought together three cultures: French, Italian and American with an old-fashioned commonality everyone could understand, plenty of alcohol and well,love, one hopes.

Now four years later, as life moved on in a normally pleasant way, we are dealing at times with real-life problems that hit you like a hurricane wind in the face. The one thing that never changes though, is my faith in Nico, which has only absolutely grown as we confront these wave-pool like moments in life together that I sometimes desperately wish remained more like a calm pond of boring.  

Losing a baby is a terrible, horrible, awful life event for anyone, period.

It’s not something I personally can easily get over, nor should it, but everyone processes their pain differently. I don’t want to hear about a “bright side, “at least you’re fertile” or god’s will” or “next time” at this moment used to ‘help’ take today’s away. I want to be able to feel this now in its entirety, it’s officially part of my life and part of our story as a couple. 

Of course, I have questions, serious concerns even, about why I wasn’t admitted to Careggi hospital to undergo observation as the situation got progressively more concerning. Careggi is one of the best hospitals in Tuscany and in Italy. The facts are that we were there three times in two days for the extreme pain and contractions and were told time after time that they couldn’t be uterine contractions with no way to test that with a belt or any machine, was bizarre. AND why was it so hard for these hospitals to give a person pain relief when they are withering in absolute terror and agony after hours, days, of pain at home. Why should you have to scream for like an insane person after losing your baby at home and getting a D&E because they will only design to give you paracetamol (tachipirina)?  It’s not ok, and this is something I strongly believe in local health care that they really need to work on, even as a culture. People have a right to not be in constant agony.

It’s been a week now, to the day.

A week of waking up with sadness tinged with the realization of a future that will no longer be there and most of all knowing that while one day everything will be ok, it’s also normal to not want to think about that right now and live day by day. Our dog, a beagle named Ginger, has been tremendously appreciated during this time. Because I work alone, she’s often my butt-buddy on the couch, leaving an endless trail of fur but always making me laugh with her funny expressions and need for constant cuddles. 

I have communicated with people about the loss on online forums where people are going through the same thing and we are taking person steps to create a memory box for our son who we only briefly got to meet. My friend Rebecca sent me this article and it really resonated with me, because like the poster, I’m not exactly on planet earth right now but I know I will be eventually. 

Nico and I are beyond grateful for the support from our local community and friends who have gone above and beyond to be there for us in every imaginable way, even if just to listen to us tell our horrific story over and over and over again.

We haven’t had to do food shopping or cooking this entire week and every day we get messages of love from so many that it’s overwhelming in the best possible way. A friend of mine even wrote me yesterday that a group of them donated money to a local charity that supports children affected by chronic and complex pathologies and their families, this completely blew us away. A friend planted a tree in the baby’s honor and another couple purchased a star/constellation for child of Jupe-Pradier, acts that made me both cry but smile, as we start to collect things for our memory box for our son. 

It’s true that I don’t respond as quickly as I would normally do,  usually it’s what I’m known for, being consistent, being dependable and very present but I do want people to know I appreciate every single one of their kind thoughts and gestures. 

So many people have gone through similar losses and I had absolutely no idea… as we’ve learned from friends, colleagues who have shared their own painful stories. 

I’ve read online that if a woman knows about the pregnancy, the risk of loss is about 10 to 15 percent, but that between weeks 13 and 20, the risk of experiencing a miscarriage is less than 1 percent (source). It honestly feels like more from the number of people I’ve spoken to this week who have opened up and shared their own stories. 

I wish miscarriage and loss weren’t such a taboo subject, but luckily there are communities/online accounts/places where it isn’t

People should feel more open to share their stories with people they trust and love and most importantly, in a way that makes them feel the most comfortable, no matter how hard it might be to share that kind of very personal grief. This is precisely why I am writing about our loss today, to hopefully help other people not feel alone in pain. 

If you have gone through something similar or even just want to talk, know that I am here, there is a human behind this website, and I will listen.

As for the generosity that we have received, well that can never really be repaid.

It has served as a reminder for Nico and I to be better people.

To make sure to check in with those we love and be truly there for them not just through well wishes and condolence cards. As life moves on it, world sometime tilts in a way you would never expect and all you have is what you can do as a person, giving the most precious gift of all; your time, patience, compassion, emotional support, errands done and deadlines forgiven. It really helps and it really matters… 

Sincerely,  Georgette

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64 Responses

  1. Thanks for sharing, your story is dense of humanity, essential life- values, love, and entirely an excellent example of a life well lived through the most important values. There is a part of the story which is really a masterpiece.
    My best wishes to you and your husband, you are simply fantastic and you deserve all the wellness and happiness of this world

  2. I am so sorry for your heartbreaking loss. Some of your words resounded with me. In fact I probably spoke your words 19 years ago when at 22 weeks and 4 days my husband and I suffered the loss of twin boys. Grief is deeply personal no one deals with it in the same way. I just did my best to get through day by day. Honestly though, I don’t think I have ever “gotten over” that awful day. I know that I am a complete stranger to you, but as an empathetic human being I am sending you and your husband love and peace during this difficult time.

  3. Dear Georgette,

    I am so sorry for your devastating loss. I know that nothing anyone can say will make it better or eliminate your pain. Please be comforted somewhat in the knowledge that you are loved by so many. My heart and tears go out to you and Nico. Hugs to both of you. XO


  4. Beautifully written and heart wrenching to read, but this will be so helpful to so many others. All our love is with you <3

  5. My heart hurts with you and Nico. Love and kisses from South Carolina.

  6. Dearest Georgette,
    No words can express the loss. Sending you all possible love and strength. From a fellow grieving mother in Italy. The years pass but the love always remains.
    Love to all of your family.

  7. Oh Georgette, my heart aches for you both. This post was so beautifully written. I wish you strength and peace as you move through this painful chapter. I feel like loss is something that never truly leaves you even when joy finds us again. It’s so important to embrace the loss, share it with those we love, and then move forward with it in the way that serves us best. I’m an American reader (who studied in Florence many years ago) and I’ve always felt that you exude such joy and people who surround you do as well. I hope surrounding yourself with joy (when you are ready) helps you find yours again.

  8. Georgette, I am so, so sorry for your loss. April 25th was my one year anniversary of losing my daughter at almost 6 months pregnant…so I felt the grief in your post. It’s taken me an entire year to feel anything close to myself again, so please give yourself time and patience. Grief comes in waves and there will be bad days and good days, but just be really gentle on yourself for as long as you need. I’m so glad people are loving on you and Nico and honoring your sweet baby. He existed and he deserves to be celebrated. ? sending you love all the way from Arkansas

  9. So sad for your loss – know how it feels as I lost a little one at the 24 week mark. It took me forever to ‘move on’. Comments for the next pregnancy (soon after the loss) were terrible as some didn’t realise the first loss and asked ‘haven’t you had that baby yet?’ They were not to know. I can only send comforting wishes and hope you ‘move on’ soon.

  10. Georgette,

    I am so sorry for your loss, and truly appreciate you sharing this with everyone. I’m happy to hear that you are getting so much love and support, as I can’t imagine what it’s like. Keeping you and your family in my thoughts ❤️

  11. This was beautifully written. I am so sorry that you suffered this loss. There is nothing I could say that will help, but please know that you have done something so unbelievably important by publishing it. I’m glad we live in a time where people are sharing their stories so you and others don’t have to feel as alone. Sending you + Nico good vibes!

  12. Georgette,
    We have never met, yet share the same Florentine streets, me the year your mother was pregnant with you in 1983. Thank you for sharing your pain. Miscarriage is a very hard subject for most to discuss or empathize with. I have lost 2 baby girls, one in 1992 and one in 1997. The pain is horrific and the questions never end. Why me? What’s wrong with my body? Why doesn’t it work? I can’t tell you the number of nights I have been awake thinking these questions. The women who share this experience know how you feel and we are here to listen to your grief, dry your tears and help you through it. The dream of your child is more that difficult to lose. I pray for comfort for you and for Nico.

  13. Georgette, I found your blog last week when I was in Florence and looking for local tips. I just wanted to reach out and say I am incredibly sorry for your loss. My family has gone through a very similar, very heartbreaking experience, and I think it’s so important to talk openly about it because not enough people do. Give yourself time, honor your baby and honor your body. Sending you love from San Diego.

  14. Thank you for so bravely sharing. Women’s health care is not taken serious enough and i am so sorry you went through that. Take time to grieve, we will all be here for you.

  15. Georgette,

    I am so sorry. I have recently discovered your blog and this is so poignantly written. You are in my thoughts and prayers.


  16. I am so sorry for your loss!
    Honestly, thank you for sharing your story. My thoughts are with you today!

  17. I’m so sorry Georgette, for your loss and your heartache. Thank you for being so candid and for sharing your words, they will no doubt ease the pain of others. Know that you bring joy to so many of us who follow you, as a small comfort— we support you with love. All my best wishes to you and Nico from NYC.

  18. Georgette, my husband I just began following you, we love Florence and are currently planning a trip in 2020. Your article brought up so many memories for us, since we endured something similar and I was ultimately unable to have children. As a blogger, I admire your honesty and I understand how difficult it is to share such intimate details, but I know from experience that the more I share, the more I find understanding and a deeper connection with my readers. My loss was many years ago, and though I have reconciled it, the longing still remains. Thank you for sharing so deeply… inviando un abbraccio forte.

  19. Georgette….I am so very, very sorry. I don’t think anything I write will give you any kind of comfort. I experienced the same loss…not as far along, but it has stayed with me all these years., I can only imagine y’all’s pain. I love what Rochelle wrote: “The years pass but the love always remains.” Take care.

  20. I’m so sorry, Georgette. I had four miscarriages including one in the second trimester. I had two before I had my son and two more before I had my daughter. The only good thing about this was that I discovered the infinite capacity for hope. Good luck.

  21. Georgette,
    I, missing your normal daily posts, started praying for you earlier this week. I am an American reader and look forward to my daily dose of Florence and whatever adventures you and Nico embark on. My heart hurts so much for both of you. I wish you the space to continue to grieve, that you continue to feel the love of being wrapped in the arms of your friends and family, and that you never feel like you can’t celebrate the hope and joy that lived in your son for the first five months of his precious life. Hugs to you.

  22. Thank you for sharing. I am not a writer and will not be able to comment as eloquently as others but I feel I need to comment regardless. People don’t always understand the loss of miscarriage. The normal response “you can try again” although meant as a kind gesture, is such a dismissive statement about a life and ignores the grief associated not only with the loss of a child but also the unknown of what was to have been; a child, a family, the future and a lifestyle change. Both of my miscarriages were around 18 weeks. They were many years ago and despite having children and moving forward it’s a loss I will always secretly hold in my heart.
    Although family and friends are supportive most do not understand that it doesn’t just go away. They don’t understand that there was a little life that I created and never got to know. Thank you again for sharing and I am sure that others going through similar journeys will benefit knowing thier grief is real, it’s ok and they are not alone. My deepest sympathy to you both for your loss .

  23. Dearest Georgette,
    I normally have a lot to say about most things but your loss has left me speechless. So I am sending you a ‘nice warm blanket and a hug’.
    Amore June xxx

  24. Georgette, I am so very sorry for your and Nico’s loss. We recently returned home from Italy and spent three days in Florence. I would encourage you to plumb the depths of your grief, perhaps through some of the beautiful art in Florence which tangibly gives expression to many of our deepest human emotions, including grief and loss. To plumb the depths is to journey to and through a dark place, embracing it and integrating it into your psyche. You WILL emerge on the other side of that dark place, but please reach out if you become stuck. Grief is not linear, and often spirals back upon itself when we least expect it. Let Firenze hold you in its loving hands. Peace and love to you both.

  25. Dear Georgette, Nicco, and Ginger,
    I am so very sorry for your loss, My sister Tina and I always look forward to your posts about our favorite city. You have made it seem as though we have to keep visiting Florence to catch up on what we missed.
    I can’t imagine losing your child, my heart goes out to your family; know that the love of your community surrounds the family with love and healing.

  26. Very sorry to hear the bad news for both of you. Hang tough. Stay strong.

  27. Georgette and Nico, you are in the hearts of so many as you go through this painful experience. Thank you for sharing this. When I had my miscarriage I felt so alone and was similarly surprised to discover how many others had experienced this kind of grief and not talked about it. Your sharing is a gift to others and also allows you to know others truly care. We walk with you. Much Love.

  28. Carissimi– My heart aches for both of you…standing in and sharing your truth has always been your way. Beautifully written and courageously shared. <3

  29. I am in tears and as result, most of my reply will make no sense. Thank you for sharing your story, Georgette. I know we’re strangers but my heart aches for you and Nico.

    I’ll never be able to share my story of loss openly, but when another woman shares hers, it’s as if my voice has found a vessel.

    I will a light a candle to Saint Felicitas of Rome and St. Catherine of Siena to bring you peace and comfort during this difficult period. And will also cut a few Rose’s from my garden to display them in honor of your sweet bambino.

  30. Dear Georgette and Nico, I’m so sincerely sorry for what you are going through. Toutes mes condoléances… Caroline

  31. Georgette and Nico, I was so touched by what you wrote…I am so, so sorry for your loss. Sending you love and hugs from Florida!

  32. Thank you so much for sharing such an intimate moment. I’m very sorry for your loss and wish you and Nico all the strength in the coming days. My prayers are with you and your family.

  33. Georgette and Nico – my heart goes out to you both. I feel for your loss and pain. I, too, lost a baby at 5 months. It is a day indelibly etched on my heart and memory. Like you, I miscarried at home with my bewildered partner feeling helpless by my side. You will never ‘get over’ losing your baby, and the arrival of any future babies will not replace THIS child. Honour the life with love. Be gentle with yourself.

  34. Dear Georgette, I am so, so sorry about the loss of your baby boy….
    In 2007, I had what is called an ectopic pregnancy, that was misdiagnosed and I was not medically cared for properly. The trauma of the drawn out and very painful miscarriage has left its mark on me, changing me forever. I want to check in with you soon on messenger if that is ok, I’m so happy you have such a great community of friends and loved ones…and of course, Nico. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss, but the best thing you can do is allow yourself this time to grieve.

  35. I am so crushed to hear this. Thank you for sharing this. My sincerest condolences and hope for a stronger you on the other side

  36. Dear Georgette- I have been following you for a very long time and in 2013 when I was in Florence Girl in Florence was my guide. I truly adore, love, and appreciate all you share with us. I am holding you and Nico so very tightly in my heart right now. All of the love and support you are receiving from you family and friends is mirrored by the beautiful online community you have created.

    Sending you love.

  37. Dear Georgette,

    I’ve been following you since early 2017 when we were planning our trip to Florence to photograph a wedding. Florence Girl was our tour guide throughout our stay! I’m sorry to hear of your lost. My prayers go out to both of you!??

  38. Georgette, so deeply sorry that this has happened. No more words than that but like Ginger, i’ll sit alongside. Thinking of you & Nico on this day and many more.

  39. Dear Georgette,

    We have never met (argued, once, many years ago over the quality of sanitation in the Florentine restaurant industry), but I have followed your journey loosely over the years, particularly because our timelines are very similar and we have both lived in this neighborhood for a long time now. Just three days ago I saw you in Piazza Tasso with Ginger and was so tempted to approach you with my congratulations. I decided to respect your privacy at the time, but I want to reach out to you now. I am sorry for your loss. I know the grief of miscarriage — I lost a child between my son and daughter — and it is a mourning of immensity, a mourning of self and of another, of the future and of the present. Mourn, mourn as long as you need to. Know too that you can also move on when you need to, that your child will always be a part of your story. That today is also your day, because you too are a mother. Know most of all that, though I do not know you nor you me, I am proud of you, so proud of the business you have grown, of the hard, thoughtful work that you do, and what honor you pay to this, your city. You are an extraordinary creature, and I wish you the very best.

  40. I have just read your beautifully scripted blog about a painful and terrible occurrence in your life. I’m reduced to tears here in Cork on Sunday morning to hear your news ( I have been reading your blog for over a year now and always enjoy the way you write, and what you write about). I have experienced grief; a father, a brother and a father-in-law, and most recently a dear friend. I haven’t experienced the agony of what yourself and your husband are directly enduring. I send love and embraces to both of you even though we have never met, because love and embraces sent with intent, do mean something. Take care Georgette and Nico

  41. There are no words to express how sorry I am for your family’s loss. I’m so sorry about your experience at the hospital as well. The doctors, nurses, and staff should certainly have more compassion.

  42. I want to put my arms around you both and hug you tight! Especially today on Mothers Day, I remember my first without our baby in our arms, we lost our first son Aaron 19 years ago at full term and I know some of your grief and pain, always in your hearts your darling little one, much love and I whisper to you our love and thoughts are with you both and your sweet baby xx

  43. Georgette, you have always been so generous of heart, candor, thought and humor. My greatest hope for you and Nico in the midst of these awful, awful circumstances is that the giant community of people who love and care for you will show you that same spirit. Long past this stage of the grief and healing process, too. Hugs and love to you both. ~Mary

    1. Thank you so much Mary, its times like this when you truly appreciate those around you and I have never felt more supported and that is the light at the end of my tunnel right now. Hugs and love to you as well.

  44. Dear Georgette, thank you for sharing your honest and heart-wrenching personal story. Amidst la dolce vita, there is real life to live, and no reason to hide it. You are right in saying that these stories need to be shared. In this way, you find that you are in warm company and have great support, even from people you do not know well or not at all. No matter how difficult this may be, do keep up your hope. I had 3 miscarriages in 2 years before having a successful pregnancy. Honor and remember your little one forever, cry, take some time to heal, and be open to try again if that is what you want.

    1. It was something that I had debated for a long while before publishing but I really felt alone after the first loss and I just think that people find comfort, at least I know I do, in other’s stories. I do have hope that we will be able to successfully have a family one day and we are taking measures right now to help ensure the next pregnancy might be more viable (I have fibroids so we are getting them removed). I’m sorry you went through so many losses as well, thanks you sincerely for the kind comment.

  45. Dear Georgette and Nico….my heart hurts for you as you go through this grieving process. Know that there is light on the other side ?

  46. My sincere condolences. Your blog post is beautiful and it’s so brave of you to open up this way to heal and to help others too. I’m sure you’ll get to give your love to another soul when you’re ready. Sending love!

  47. Dear Georgette, We met at a yoga class and a few times after to say hi. I am so sorry for your devastating loss. I also live in Italy and love it here, but if I ever needed a solid medical establishment for any reason, I would go back to the states in a heartbeat. Italy is wonderful in so many ways, but your health and pregnancy need the United States. Please consider returning home for a pregnancy and delivery should you decide to try for another baby. My best wishes to you and Nico. Best wishes, Lauretta Dimmick

  48. Dear Georgette,

    Thank you for your courage and generosity in sharing this story of loss and healing. These are words we all need to hear. You opened an important conversation even in your darkest moment, another example of what a strong and special woman you are. With all that love and strength I know that one day you will impart that to a child and we will all be your cheering section. Sending love and hugs to you and to Nico.

  49. Dear Georgette, Thank you for trusting your readers and also for honoring yourself by sharing the truth of your experience — the profound loss of your baby. Your writing is beautifully revealing and strong…..and you have allowed us to know you in a very tender way. I wish you and Nico blessings and love on your journey of healing and recovery.
    With great respect,


  50. Georgette, I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. This is heartbreaking.

    As you say, miscarriage is all too common and it is not right for women to suffer alone. Thank you for reaching out. I hope sharing your story and the outpouring of love from your digital family is giving you some peace in this terrible time.

  51. I’m so sorry, Georgette. I was hesitant to read this post because I experienced a devastating (to me) loss three weeks ago when my pup of 11 years passed away unexpectedly. I know this is NOT the same as the loss of your baby. But grief is grief, and your paragraph about your dog providing you comfort really got to me. I’m so glad you have your pup and your Nico and your support system in place. I, too, have several friends who have experienced multiple miscarriages. I cannot imagine the physical and emotional pain you must have gone (and must still be going) through. Sending love from Ferrara. <3

  52. Cara Georgette scrivo in italiano perché voglio esprimere le mie emozioni al meglio, non mediate dalla lingua. Ti ammiro per quello che hai fatto. Aprirsi al web non è mai facile, ma vedo dai commenti qua sopra che i tuoi “fan” o “followers” ti vogliono davvero bene e questo mi fa piacere. Non sei sola, anche se vivi in una città che non è quella della tua famiglia.
    Riguardo alla tua perdita non riesco a immaginare cosa si provi… penso sia terribile. perciò prenditi il tuo tempo, davvero. Ti scriverò’ in privato per dirti altre cose. ma ora qui, voglio dirti che ti mando un abbraccio enorme. Sei una grande donna. Non ti scoraggiare… conosco tante donne che hanno avuto figli dopo diversi aborti. Spero che tu e Nico, che è un uomo altrettanto splendido, possiate trovare di nuovo questa gioia.

  53. Georgette,

    I know no set of words can take away the immense pain of loss you are feeling in these days, but I only hope they can comfort you in the strangest of hours. This took not only bravery but heart to write, and I’m glad you did so if it helps you in this process and not to mention how much it will help others who have lived similar experiences. As a friend of yours, who also feels like family, I am relieved by all of the comments left and assured you have so much love surrounding you- which is a reflection of you, certainly. You deserve to be happy and well, and I will never stop hoping the best world for you and Nico. It goes without saying how saddened we all are on your behalf for your loss, and know we (and me) are always here for you. Love you, my dear!

  54. I was 23w. She had Turner’s syndrome. Almost exactly one year later I had another loss, a miscarriage at 11w. I now have 2 beautiful baby boys. But my marriage fell apart after I found out that my husband had an affair – I assume this was his way of coping with our loss.

    I hope your experience makes your marriage stronger. I’m so sorry for your loss. My heart goes out to you both during this extremely difficult time. Take your time. Grieve. Heal. And when you’re ready, have more babies. Know that it does get better. Please do reach out too. <3

  55. Dear Georgette, I found your post while searching for fun things to do in Florence in September and just wanted to say that I’m sending love your way, especially this month. I’m so sorry for your loss and think it’s very brave of you to share your story. The more we talk, share and support each other, the less taboo the subject of miscarriage and loss becomes, and hopefully the less lonely it feels as well, so thank you for contributing to such a change. Also, on a lighter note, thank you for creating such thoughtful content. I’ve used your blog and resources multiple times while planning our trip to Italy, and I really appreciate everything you’ve curated. I love getting a local’s perspective, so thanks for sharing with all of us visitors. All the best to you and Nico (and Ginger), Joshlyn

  56. I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ve read you for a long time now and never posted a comment, but I wanted to now. Your blog is a guide and inspiration to many, and I wish you and Nico all the best during this tough time.

  57. Come to Gemelli Hospital in Rome, or Fatebenefratelli Hospital on Isola Tiberina. Get your family doctor here in Rome. Change residence for the medical help. You’d do better in Rome.

    1. I appreciate your advice. Luckily I’ve gotten the fibroid removal surgery and I am recovered by this point so we have positive hopes for 2020.

Georgette Jupe

Welcome to my personal blog by a curious American girl living and working between Zug, Switzerland and Florence, Italy with my husband Nico, our newborn Annabelle and Ginger the beagle. This space is primarily to share about my love for Italy (currently on a 13 year romance) with a fair amount of real talk, practical advice, travel suggestions and adjusting to a new culture (Switzerland). Find me on IG @girlinflorence @girlinzug

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