Why It Took 15 Years to Get Answers
I was 16 years old, sitting in school on the Upper East Side when the pain hit.
Not a dull ache. Not something you can ignore.
The kind of pain that makes you stop everything.
I remember having to leave early, getting on the 6 train downtown by myself. Sitting there, hunched over in my seat, trying to hold it together—probably scaring the other passengers around me.
I couldn’t sit up straight. I couldn’t think clearly. I just needed to get home.
My parents were worried, of course, but also confused. And if I’m being honest, there were moments where it felt like they were more concerned about what I might have done to end up in that much pain.
We can save that part for another time.
At 16, I didn’t have the language to explain what was happening.
Learning to Live With the Pain
And yet, I did what so many of us do.
I pushed through.
Through high school. Through college. Through my 20s.
Some months were manageable. Others weren’t. But I got used to planning my life around the pain—around my cycle, around the days I knew I wouldn’t be able to function at 100%.
I thought I just had really bad periods.
When Trying to Conceive Changed Everything
It wasn’t until my early 30s, when we started trying to conceive, that things started to feel different.
At first, it was give it time.
Then months passed. Then more months.
Eventually, my OB-GYN recommended we see a specialist.
That recommendation changed everything.
Answers at 33
The specialist suggested a laparoscopy.
By then, I had been living with this pain for over a decade. I didn’t realize that surgery would be the moment everything finally made sense.
I was 33 years old when I woke up with answers.
Endometriosis.
Not just that—my right fallopian tube was completely blocked and had to be removed.
Fifteen years of pain, explained in one procedure. But also a question I couldn’t ignore.
Why did it take this long?
IVF
After surgery, we moved forward with IVF.
And then I got pregnant.
But that joy was short-lived. At six weeks, we learned the pregnancy was not viable.
Still, something in me knew I wasn’t done yet.
What Helped Me Along the Way
I started exploring a more holistic approach.
And over time, it became a meaningful part of my journey.
Acupuncture. Chinese herbal medicine.
Not quick fixes, but consistent practices that helped me manage pain, regulate my body, and feel more connected to it.
I also started incorporating castor oil packs, a cleaner, more anti-inflammatory diet with more fish and leafy greens and fewer processed foods, and learning to slow down and actually listen to my body.
These were small shifts, but over time, they added up.
Why I’m Sharing This
March is Endometriosis Awareness Month, and it feels like the right time to share this part of my story.
Because the truth is, so many women are living with this and don’t even know it.
And in our community, we don’t always talk about it.
Topics like infertility, reproductive health, and becoming a mom later in life are still not openly discussed in the Latino community. There’s a silence around it. A discomfort. Sometimes even shame.
That’s part of the reason I created Soy Nueva Mamá—to open up these conversations in Spanish, in a way that feels real, honest, and relatable.
Because if we’re not talking about it, we’re not helping each other find answers any sooner.
From Pain to Purpose
Today, as a first-time mom after 40, I look back at that 16-year-old girl on the subway with so much compassion.
And I share this now for her, and for anyone else who might still be searching for answers.