It was the spring of 1996. I was working as a paralegal in Coral Gables. Poppa and I were raising our little Alexandra who was 4 and the princess of not only our home but that of every home she knew of since none of our friends had any children of their own. I was all of 24 years.
Poppa and I had a small but cute and cozy two story home in South Miami, very south. Our lives consisted of work, play, Alexandra and our ambitions. To think back now, it was a very simple time. Meals for three, walks in the park across the street from our house and lots of friends to party with when we wanted to escape the domestic life for a little while. We planned to work hard and upgrade homes, cars and lifestyles as time went by and we planned to have one child. Actually, planned would be a wrong term to use. We were told we would have one child as Poppa was told in the military that he could have no more children. We were OK with that. We had our perfect little blond haired, blue eyed baby and we could do whatever we liked in our life. To say that thoughts of all those babies we would never have haunted me, well no.
I worked. I loved to work. It seems though that my body did not love it as much as I did because earlier that year I began having terrible heartburn, and wrenching stomach pains quite often. After a few trips to the emergency room in the most pain I have ever experienced (and asking some poor doctor to marry me after having some opiates via an IV for the pain) I was told that I might have an ulcer and I should see a gastroenterologist. An ulcer at the ripe old age of 24. That would be me, of course because I was a Cuban coffee junky who did not eat well, partied a little too much and lived for the next big thing.
I went to the gastro and had a whole battery of tests done, meanwhile being given the instructions to stop drinking coffee, alcohol or anything spicy or with tomato. Ok, so I was going to eat mush for a living? I mean seriously, I’m Cuban, I like food! After a whole stomach x-ray panel, barium test and some other tests, I was told that I had a duodenal ulcer. Lovely! The pain though that I had been experiencing was enough to halt me in my tracks and so I was a good patient and followed orders.
A month later, Poppa and I were catching a plane the next morning to his cousins wedding in Tennessee. Sometime after Poppa had gone to bed, I had started up with some stomach flu symptoms which quite worried me as my ulcer could not handle any aggravation. After a night sleeping with my head practically in the toilet, I woke up Poppa and told him where I had spent the night. I remember asking him “we are sure that we can’t have any more babies aren’t we, because I kind of remember this feeling”. We both laughed it off and caught a plane. Another month went by and life was pretty much back to normal.
One morning as I prepared for a big case that I was working on with my boss and a deposition that afternoon, one of the girls that answered the phone was looking a bit sad. Knowing her to be so peppy, I asked her what was wrong and she immediately fell apart into a puddle at my feet. She was engaged to be married and almost in law school… and she suspected she might be pregnant. Oh dear, we really didn’t have time for this and so I told her to quickly run across the street to the pharmacy and get a test. That way, if she was pregnant she could go home and figure out how to tell her fiance and if she was not we could get on with the rest of our day. She took the test and came back from the bathroom telling me it was negative but she was sure it was wrong. I was at this point, a bit aggravated. We had so much to do that day. I offered to take the second test so she could see that they work. As I type this, my heart is racing.
I went into the bathroom and did what you do with a pregnancy test. As I washed my hands, I could see the stick there on top of a tissue paper next to the sink area. Oh. my. goodness. What? But how could this be? I walked back in feeling my knees too weak and not really remembering what was going on with the receptionist, just feeling numb. She looked and me and looked at the stick in my hand and immediately, she forgot what she had been worrying about. I felt apart in my chair. Feeling full of despair, I thought of my life, my life with Poppa, our plans, Alexandra. I felt like I was spiraling. And oh, how to tell Poppa.
In what seemed like that very moment, he called. I could not speak to him and he picked up right away that something was wrong with me. My bosses had arrived, perfect timing. I told him that we had to talk, later. He asked me what was wrong but I couldn’t tell him, I just kept saying “we will talk later”. Filled with despair he said “Trish, please tell me what I have done, please, I love you”. What he had done? He went on, “Trish, we can fix whatever is wrong just give me a chance”. Did he think I wanted to leave him or something? I was so confused by his reaction that I just blurted it out, “no, I’m not leaving you… I’m pregnant!”
A second went by and he said “Ok, we will talk at home” and then he said “hey, I love you”. I was no good to anyone, my boss found out what was going on and sent me home. Just where I wanted to be… What was Poppa going to say to me? I drove home and honestly, I don’t remember how the heck I got there but I remember opening the door to find Poppa standing there holding a huge bouquet of roses and I fell apart in his arms. I remember feeling safe at that moment, scared but safe.
I called my Gastro to find our what kind of antacid I could take now that I was expecting and he asked me to come in to see him. The next day I went to see first the Ob/Gyn to find out that I was really pregnant and about 8 weeks and then to see the Gastro which was not as nice. He sat me down and explained to me that with all the stomach x-rays I had a few weeks earlier I would have a problem. Stomach x-rays??? That was when it all came back to me. Did no one even think to ask me if I could be pregnant? Would I have answered a resounding no either way?
The doctor told me he recommended an abortion. Um, excuse me? That was when I realized that I was in love. I was fully in love with this little person, even though it was a shock, even though we thought we could not afford it, even though this doctor was telling me to do something I could not possibly fathom.
This is where I should stop and tell you that I was raised as a Catholic but left the church and would not return until Alexandra was nearly 12, so my Catholic faith had little to do with my decision. How could this doctor possibly know what he was asking me to do? I flat out to him that I would not do it. He told me to go home and speak with my husband (Poppa and I did not believe in marriage at this point in our lives). I assured him there was nothing to discuss and that Poppa would feel the same was as I did. I called him from my 1 pound, bigger than my head cell phone on the way home.
We were both in agreement. Come what may, we would face it together. Our family was going to be a little bigger. The weeks went by and we began to plan all sorts of things, baby rooms, baby names, how to tell my mother in law. My parents were happy though we never told anyone about the xrays or the doctors and come to think about it, there may not be many people who have ever heard this whole story. My parents know now but back then we just wanted to be happy with our baby. The day we found out the baby was a boy was so exciting. Poppa would have a buddy to watch soccer with, someone to teach and play football with, a boy!
We decided on Nicholas. It was a good strong name and for a middle name we picked Rolando after Poppa’s grandfather who passed away during the whole x-ray and find out I was pregnant commotion. My belly grew each day and so did my heart. The day came that I went into labor and since we had not even told our OB that there might be a problem, we happily went along to the hospital. Me with Nicholas’ future god parents, who were much more nervous that I having never had any children yet of their own, and Poppa who met us after work at the hospital. After a grueling 19 hours, I met my boy.
He was perfect. In every way. He still is. Nicholas is probably one of my children who is most like me. He can make me laugh in a second and un-nerve me in the next. I would not want to live in a world that he never knew. We are intertwined him and I. He taught me to really love. A love that is bigger than ambition or fear. My true love.
And so you might already know the rest of the story. We went on to have many more babies and now Nicholas is all of 16 years old. I have not shared this story with many people but I think it is important to see that with God all things are possible and even though we didn’t consult with him at the time, he was holding our hands and carrying us through, just as he is today. 
I hope to see you tomorrow here for Real Food on a Real Budget which will be hosted by Emily of Front Forty Farm. See you then!
What a great story, full of love and faith! Now, for part 2… How did you wind up back in Church? And married and not working as a paralegal and all of that?
I love your love story. We need many more like this one. The bond between your son and you is so obvious and what a handsome man you have raised! This love story should be shared.
Beautiful! Sooner or later we all come back to the faith- welcome home!
What a beautiful love story! Surely a great gift from God´s hands. May He bless you all even more!
very, true. this love story.
Great story but how am I no where in it. 😛
What a beautiful beautiful tale. God bless you and happy birthday!
Thank you for sharing this story: it gives me so much hope! I have 2 children who have left the faith, but part of your story revealed that you left and later returned. God is good, I have to continue to love and have patience! May God continue to bless you and your family! Happy birthday to Nicholas! And please continue to share your stories.
Penny, yes love and faith but it was also my mothers prayers…years and years of prayers 🙂 Thank you very much. Oh and it's not his birthday, oh dear did I give that impression? No, I am sharing this story because of Saint Valentines day tomorrow.
Beautiful story! Thanks so much for sharing. I am wondering how in the world you had a blonde haired, blue eyed baby girl?!?!?!?! I would love to hear more about how you came back to the Catholic faith when your precious daughter was 12. What an amazing blessing. Thanks again for sharing, you story was very touching. God bless you and your family.
Karise, My great grandmother is almost her twin 🙂 She is the only person in my whole family who is blond but her eyes turned green/grey in her adolesence. My mother is one of 14 and so I have a large family and she is the only one though I think one of my uncles was blond as a child. Thank you for your beautiful words.
What a wonderful story!!! I love it! I'm so glad you shared this. It just makes me smile. 🙂
What a great story! Thank you for sharing it with us. Happy Birthday Nicholas! Isn't awesome how babies are always the most wonderful blessings, even if we are not "ready" for them. God is so wonderful like that isn't he?!
thank you for sharing that wonderful story.
Thank you for sharing your story. It is good to remember that God has a plan for us and will help us through our difficult times. Stories like the one you just shared are a wonderful reminder of that truth. I was very touched.
Children are such a gift (I know you know that!). You reminded me of my sister-in-law and her doctor troubles a few years ago ,when she was first diagnosed with cancer. She was early in her pregnacy and three docotors told her to abort her little Daniel. She would not do it and finally found a doctor she could work with. Daniel is a very healthy 5 year old now.
What an amazing story. You are truly blessed