Hi friends, I hope your summer was filled with beautiful moments. As I sit to write, fall feels like it's here, with that familiar back-to-school feeling. I'm reflecting on these past few months and all that's unfolded. Part of me is excited to turn the page on summer, while another feels a bit robbed of my favourite season. I’m sharing the words below as a way to connect, in hopes that some of you may feel seen. Since, after this experience, nothing has felt as healing as hearing others' versions of this story. If you've followed harly jae's journey from Vancouver to White Rock, you’ll know that I made this move to create more balance in my life with the hope of growing my family. After returning to work just three days after giving birth to my daughter in 2021, I promised myself I’d never go through that again. This move was my way of honouring that promise. So, once we were settled in the new space, my husband and I began trying for our second child. Five months in with no luck, I decided it was time to start investigating—not necessarily my fertility, but why I had been feeling so depleted over the past few years. I tend to put my well-being last, and it finally felt like the right time to figure out what was going on. With my naturopath, I began the journey to "fix myself," starting with a series of tests. The day she called me into her office to discuss the results, I felt both relief and worry. I was diagnosed with Hashimoto's, an autoimmune disease where my immune system attacks my thyroid, reducing its ability to produce the hormones my body needs. This could potentially have been affecting my fertility. I was relieved to finally have an answer after struggling to find one through traditional medical routes, but also concerned about what this meant for growing our family. By a twist of fate, that evening I took a pregnancy test—and it was positive. Once again, I was both relieved and worried. For the next four weeks, I threw myself into overdrive at work. I wanted to lay the groundwork for an upcoming maternity leave, pushing myself hard now so I could enjoy a break in nine months. The Hashimoto diagnosis barely crossed my mind because, after all, I had what I wanted—I was pregnant! So I slipped back into my old habits, only this time with even more intensity. At eight weeks pregnant, I traveled to Québec City for my annual family visit. It was too early to share the news, but since it was my only chance to celebrate in person, I went ahead and did it. A couple days later, I started bleeding.
Nothing prepares you for the gut-wrenching experience of miscarriage. The hours spent convincing yourself it’s just spotting, that everything’s fine. The desperate searches online for stories of similar symptoms turning into healthy pregnancies. The long waits in the emergency room only to be told you’ll need to return to see someone more qualified two days later. The slow realization, that inner knowing, that you’re losing your baby.
Seeing that tiny life leave your body, followed by days of bleeding. The hospital staff, desensitized by how common it is—1 in 4, they say. Family members, well-meaning but telling you it’s all going to be okay, that it's better it happened early. "Imagine if it were later," they say “At least you have one healthy child”.
Then you return home after what was supposed to be a two-week vacation, back to your old life—the life you no longer wanted. The future memories you’d dreamed of, ripped away.
The ultrasounds and doctor appointments continued for over a month after, due to what they coldly call "retained product" in my uterus—reducing what was once life to a medical term. It’s hard to move on when you’re faced with weekly reminders, each one involving something being physically inserted into your body.
And grieving feels impossible when you tell yourself there’s no time to rest. You’ve just taken two weeks off, and the show must go on—you have a retail lease to pay and five people depending on you.
The silver lining, as my naturopath reminded me, was that we now had time—before hopefully welcoming another pregnancy—to focus on healing. By then, more test results had come in, revealing that my gut needed serious attention. So for the past eight weeks, I’ve been following a healing protocol, and I’m finally starting to feel better, both physically and emotionally.
The biggest realization, though, was that I contributed to my Hashimoto’s by pushing myself too hard. For the past seven years, harly jae has consumed nearly every aspect of my life, limiting friendships and leaving little room for anything else. Work always came first. If something came up, I’d drop everything to handle it, which is the exact opposite of why I set out to create this business in the first place. Realizing this has been both eye-opening and a bit scary.
I think many of us are starting to realize just how burnt out we are. The “girl boss” era may have shown us that we can do it all, but it’s come at the cost of our health. I haven’t figured out the solution yet, but when I do, I’ll be sure to share it.
For now, I’m questioning everything and doing my best not to put work first. It’s easier said than done when others depend on you, but I’m trusting in the process. "Let go, let God" has been my guiding mantra. I’m hoping the answers will come naturally, without the need to force them, which feels like honouring the magnetic feminine energy we all carry.
I’ll wrap things up here—it’s already been a long email. Thank you for reading, and I hope it resonates with you or someone you know. Before I go, I wanted to share a few resources that have been helpful to me:
This episode & this episode of the Mother Daze podcast, where the hosts share their recent pregnancy loss stories.
This episode featuring Coco Brown discussing her pregnancy losses.
This raw episode of Jillian Harris addressing women’s exhaustion from trying to do it all.
