Nine Years Gone

by Shelly Cruz

  The Diagnosis

  In early March 2003 (I was twenty-four) I saw a doctor at the University Health Center. He induced a period, ordered me to have all the tests (that the first doctor should have done) and in late April of that year, I finally got answers. I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS), which is a hormonal disorder causing enlarged ovaries with small cysts on the outer edges as well as Primary Amenorrhea, which is the failure of menses to occur by age sixteen (and in my case I had yet to have a menstrual cycle without the help of meds).

  “In over twenty years of practice, I have never seen this combination. It’s fascinating,” the doctor told me with more enthusiasm than I would have liked to have heard. That doctor (an Endocrinologist) told me there was a high probability that I would never have children. The only words I heard were “never have children.” Everything else sounded muffled. Those words may as well have been a punch to the gut. They knocked the wind right out of me and I was silenced by their heaviness. I felt like I was in The Twilight Zone. That day I called in sick to work and drove for hours in silence. No music. No company. No food. Just my thoughts and the open road.

  It was news that I never shared. Not with my parents, not with my siblings, not with my friends. I put the secret in a box, wrapped chains around it, locked it up, and threw away the key. It weighed like a ton of bricks but damn I was good at carrying that weight. I always smiled, laughed, joked, hung out, lent an ear to all those who needed me, worked and studied like crazy. I was the person everyone could count on. No one suspected a thing. But behind closed doors, I felt shame. I cried in bed, in the shower, or when I would randomly see moms with their babies. I felt empty. I felt alone.

  When I got my diagnosis, my relationship with Alex was becoming serious. I knew I had to tell him my secret. Not doing so would ruin everything and it wouldn’t have been fair to keep it from him. I had no idea how I was going to do it. I was (and still am) never one to shy away from heavy conversations, after all they’re part of life. But this? What would he say? How would he react? Would he leave me? This secret had me thinking and feeling things that are completely out of character for me.

  I danced around the subject for weeks, waiting for the right moment, the right place, the right time. But let’s be honest, there is no right moment to tell the man you love you probably can’t have kids. So, one night over dinner as we ate our rice and beans I dropped the infertility-bomb. I opened up my secret box and told him everything. I felt so much lighter after saying it out loud to someone other than my reflection in the mirror.

  His reaction was nothing that my mind had made it out to be. He hugged me, he told me he loved me no matter what, and he asked questions about it. Then he said, “The doctor didn’t tell you that you cannot absolutely have children, he said you may not be able to. It’s not the same thing. We will get help and we will have a baby.” And just like that, he changed my perspective. His ability to see things from a different perspective and in a positive light when I cannot is one of the many things I love about him. From that day, I no longer had to face the struggles of infertility by myself.

  Infertility

  Over the next few years we sought help from my OB/GYN, an Endocrinologist (a doctor who specializes in glands and the hormones they make), and an Infertility Specialist. I underwent extensive testing, treatments, and took a lot of medication. Throughout this time, I still only had a menstrual cycle if I took meds to induce it. Despite all the things we tried, we never tried In Vitro Fertilization (IVF) because we couldn’t afford it. I never got pregnant. My body wasn’t cooperating. I was frustrated and angry. We gave up.

  Because I couldn’t get pregnant, I decided to focus on everything else in my life. If I just kept busy, bettered myself, volunteered, traveled, studied, and worked, then I wouldn’t think about my body’s inability to procreate. I loved doing all the things that kept me busy, but I still never addressed the underlying issue. I always told myself, there is still more we can attempt. There is still hope for us to have a baby. There is still time. I had to stop putting Band-Aids and blindfolds on what was wrong and make a decision once and for all. Years later we still want a baby and we have decided to try IVF.

  In Vitro Fertilization

  Last year Alex and I shared our struggle and decision to try IVF with our family and closest friends. It was the first time I really talked about my history with anyone other than Alex or doctors. The more I told my story, the more I wanted to share it. It’s incredible how many people struggle in similar ways. But nobody talks about it. It’s almost as if it’s a taboo subject. I suffered in silence for many years not realizing that so many individuals around me were also suffering in silence.

  In my forty-three years of life, I’ve had two spontaneous (aka natural) menstrual cycles. Because of that, I’ve felt ashamed, embarrassed, weak, not-woman-enough, out-of-control, like a failure (and many other things)—all because my body is broken and continues to betray me. After all, I often hear people say, or read an article that says, “Being a mother is the greatest accomplishment of a woman.” When I hear and read those things, the only thing I interpret is that I am not a mother, therefore I am a failure.

  I am at a point in my life where I make decisions that are the best for me (and my husband). If I want something, I buy it. If I want to experience something, I do it. If I want to travel somewhere, I go. But getting pregnant and having a baby is something I cannot control. And for this Type-A personality, that’s a tough pill to fuckin’ swallow. For years I kept silent and never shared my story because of the shame that coursed through my veins. I am no longer ashamed. I will no longer be silent.

  This year we started the IVF process. I’ve had two Egg Retrievals and we have a good number of frozen embryos. We are now ready to move onto the next phase of transferring those embabies into my uterus in hopes that they’ll stick and a baby will grow. If my story can help even one person out there, then my work here is done.

  My lifelong struggle with infertility led me to create this fictional love story. It’s a story I’ve thought about for a long time. When I started openly discussing my struggle, having so many private conversations with women about their similar journeys reinforced the fact that we need to discuss these issues more often. I talk about my struggle and my journey as much as possible in an effort to break the silence. Massimo and Lena’s story is an extension of the journey I’m on—getting people to discuss infertility and the impact it has on people’s lives.

  Resources

  If you are someone you know has PCOS, please visit: https://www.pcosaa.org/

  If you or someone you has Endometriosis, please visit: https://www.endofound.org/

  If you or someone you know suffers with Infertility, please visit: https://resolve.org/

  Acknowledgments

  To my Alpha Readers: Janet Aznar, Jessica O’Connell, Kristie Puentes, and Akilah Harris—you ladies read this story as I was piecing it together, chapter by chapter. Thank you for your patience, guidance, and friendship. Your encouragement, feedback, constructive criticism, and support mean so much. I am truly grateful for each of you and this story is better because of your participation.

  To my Beta Readers: Lisa DeMarco, Silvia Gonzalez, Nicole Reid, Shannel Rivera, Dawn Sousa Birch, and Jacob Cohen. Thank you for your honest opinions. You each provided feedback to help make this story authentic and real and it was crucial in making this work of fiction what it is. Jake, Massimo’s voice is genuine and realistic because of your feedback. Thank you for helping me bring him to life. Your feedback was immensely helpful.

  To everyone that helped me along the journey to make Nine Years Gone come together, my sincerest gratitude! Murphy Rae created a stunning cover from my jumbled visions and I couldn’t have asked for a more beautiful cover; Alyssa Garcia with Uplifting Author Services made the interior of this book beautiful, and was so patient with me when I had a million questions; Erica Russikoff, my editor—I entrusted my book baby to you
. Thank you for showing it the love that you did; Virginia Tesi Carey and Lori Sabin—your attention to detail is impeccable, thank you for proofreading with your fine-tuned eyes. Kiki and the entire team at The Next Step PR, thank you for all your support in helping me navigate my introduction to the author/writing world. Christine Brae and A.L. Jackson, both of you are two authors whose books I absolutely adore, and the words you’ve written have impacted me. You’re both extremely talented, successful authors, and Boss ladies! That each of you took the time out of your busy schedules to read this story and provide me with your feedback is absolutely invaluable and there are not enough words to express my gratitude to each of you.

  To my besties since day one, Jessica, Kristen, Lucia, and Melissa—you ladies give me life (and lots of ideas for my stories and characters) and I am thankful for each of you every day. My #RideOrDie sisters till the end of time.

  A mi Mami, soy la mujer que soy por vos. Gracias por todo tu amor y todo tu apoyo. To my sisters and brothers, you all support me in all my endeavors and your encouragement pushes me to be a better person every day.

  And last but not least, my husband Alex whose patience should be rewarded—it’s not always easy being my other half. Gracias por tener tanta paciencia conmigo todos los días, pero especialmente mientras estaba escribiendo este libro. Te amo.

  About the Author

  Shelly Cruz is a lawyer who runs her own law firm in Miami, Florida. She was born and raised just outside of Boston, Massachusetts by a fierce Argentinian mom and super strict Puerto Rican dad. When she’s not researching and writing legal documents, she enjoys expressing her creativity by writing fiction. She’s a lover of love, romance, and relationships, which is why she writes wicked sexy romance. In her free time, Shelly loves reading, traveling, and riding on the back of her husband’s Harley Davidson motorcycle while enjoying the open road.

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