Motherhood--it's something that a lot of us hope to see. It's something I have always dreamed of, and something I never thought would happen for me.

For much of my adult life, I was convinced that I would never be able to have my own child. I was told by doctors, in 2009, that it was close to impossible for me to be able to conceive my own child without the hope of some sort of help by way of fertility medications, procedures, and clinics. This was not something I wanted to participate in, especially being from such a large family. I didn't want to become pregnant unnaturally. It just didn't seem fair to me.

I've had countless hysterical pregnancies, because I just wanted so much to be a mother. With each one, came even more heartbreak, and a little less hope. I thought it was the worst pain ever, to feel pregnant, and to never actually be--but I was wrong.

In 2017, I had entirely given up hope. I was convinced that the doctors were right, and I could not be a mother in the way that I had always dreamed of. You could imagine my surprise when I turned out to be wrong.

Just before Mother's Day, I was really sick, and I couldn't figure out why. I figured I was catching a cold, or had caught a stomach virus of some kind, so I went to the hospital. They went through the normal procedure in the Emergency Room: vitals, urine cup, and questions. Every time I go to the ER, I always say there's a chance I could be pregnant. Even though I had given up hope, I guess a part of me wanted to believe I was wrong. For 2two hours, I waited in the ER, eager to find out what was wrong, so that I could go home.

Finally, the nurse called my name because they had a room for me. While walking back to my room, the nurse looked at me and told me that my test had come back positive. I looked at her, the look of confusion on my face, and asked her what test was positive. She smiled back at me, and said that I was pregnant. I don't think any other feeling describes what I was feeling better than shocked. I had always read about some pregnancy tests coming back as a false positive. So, considering all the trouble I had over the years, I was assuming that was what had happened.

The doctor had ordered a pelvic ultrasound to ensure I wasn't having an ectopic pregnancy, considering I had a high level of stomach pain. As they rolled my bed to the ultrasound room, my heart raced. I expected it to look normal, with no signs of a child as that is what always happened. To my surprise, they pointed out the little embryo, and my eyes filled with tears. It was finally happening to me. I was finally getting my wish, to be a mother.

The coming weeks were very painful, because I had a very serious case of morning sickness. It wasn't until I was about 14 or 15 weeks along, that I discovered I had something called HG, which stands for Hyperemesis Gravidarum. All that basically means is that it's an extreme form of morning sickness which causes nausea and vomiting. I was alternating 2 different nausea medications every 4 hours, but if I didn't take it, I wouldn't even be able to hold down water, let alone any kind of food.

About a week later, it was my birthday. I decided to go out with my friends to a bar because they had karaoke night every Thursday. It seemed like a good way to get out and enjoy my birthday. I was only drinking ice water, of course. Towards the end of the night, the DJ was playing some requested songs just so people could dance. One of those songs was Suavemente by Elvis Crespo. I'm from Hispanic decent so I know the song very well. You can't just sit while that song plays, so I grabbed a few of my friends and went to the dance floor. I danced so much, and everyone said I was going to shake the baby loose. After the song was over, I was so tired, so one of my friends went to get me a water whiIe I sat down to catch my breath. Just after I sat, I felt my baby move for the first time. The feeling was not something I could ever describe in words. I felt like it was my baby's way of saying, "Hi Mom. Happy Birthday. I love you."

I had fought almost my entire pregnancy to find a doctor. I finally found one, just in time for my 20-week appointment. I could not have been more excited. Not only was I finally getting to a prenatal doctor, but I was possibly about to find out if I was having a boy or a girl. I never thought I'd get the news that I did.

This was the first time I had seen my baby since I was 14 weeks, and the baby had gotten so much bigger. I was so happy to see my baby growing. Unfortunately, the midwife couldn't find a heartbeat, so she called in a doctor. She was also unable to find the heartbeat. I was 20 weeks along, but the baby was only measuring at 17 weeks. They apologized to me, and I began crying no matter how hard I tried not to. They left for a couple minutes, and then they came back.

They wanted me to be induced to deliver as soon as possible. The labor and delivery department at the hospital was full, so I couldn't go directly there like they wanted. I went the next day to be induced. I cried so much that night, hoping that their machines were malfunctioning. The next day came, and the ride to the hospital was so painful, and I didn't want this to be real.

Upon getting to the hospital, they knew exactly who I was by my name, and had my room ready. I asked for a ultrasound before anything, and the doctor agreed. The last thing I wanted to do was induce, and kill my baby if they were wrong. They did the ultrasound, only to show no change from the day before: no heartbeat. I felt my heart breaking over, and over again. All I wanted to do was scream, but all I did was cry. I began the process of inducing that afternoon, and had my baby the next morning. It was a boy, and he was so small that my heart broke all over again. It was about 2 hours before I even held him, after giving birth to him.

I held him, and I cried. I told him that I was sorry that I wasn't strong enough for him, because even now, I feel like I failed him. I know now that I didn't fail him. He was just too perfect for this world.

It killed me to hear that I had to make funeral arrangements for him. How can you become a grieving mother just as fast as you became a mother at all? The thought of putting my baby in the ground was more than what I could bear. I mean, the thought of burning him hurts as well, but I get to carry him with me all the time, and he'll always be close. I have a necklace that my aunt bought me that has his name engraved, his birthstone, and some of his ashes that I wear all the time. The rest of him is in a teddy bear urn that my father picked out for him. I sleep with his blanket that he was wrapped in every night. I can't seem to sleep without it.

I chose to name him after my grandfather, Alejandro (but I used the English version of it), and my father, Ray. These are two of the best men I have ever known, and it felt fitting to honor them by naming my angel after them. Alexander Ray forever lives in my heart, and he made me a mother. There is no right or wrong way to grieve, but I will say that support is the best thing you can have. Thank you to everyone who has been there and supported me during this time.