Read an Excerpt
From Depths We Rise
By Sarah Rodriguez Barbour Publishing, Inc.
Copyright © 2016 Sarah Rodriguez
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-68322-022-0
CHAPTER 1
First Comes Love
Whatever you do, just promise me you will not meet a boy," my mom said earnestly.
It was an unseasonably warm January evening, and I was out for an after-dinner walk with my mom and sister. It was to be the last walk for the foreseeable future. In two days I was going to pack everything I could fit into two suitcases and board a plane for my big move from Oklahoma to New York City. This move was something I had been longing for, for quite a while, but never knew quite how to make it happen. My parents, while supportive of my dreams, were extremely concerned at the prospect. In the end my father had one request: if I was to move, I had to find a job before I go. No problem. When this girl sets her mind on something she will move heaven and earth to make it happen. In this instance, moving heaven and earth meant calling a woman about her receptionist job posting and begging her to hire me over the phone. It worked. She hired me on a Friday and asked if I could be there on a Monday. Of course I could, I told her.
The next step was telling my parents that in seventy-two hours I would no longer be living under their roof. Instead, I would be taking everything I had to a city they'd never been to and living with people I had never met. It was definitely a sound and responsible plan. I was nothing if not determined.
I knew it wasn't boys my mom cared about. In fact, she was ready for me to find a boy, get married, and most importantly, have grandbabies. What she was not ready for was those grandbabies to be located halfway across the United States. I, on the other hand, was not in the same frame of mind. I was twenty-two years old and relishing the single life, with no significant other to worry about. I also knew that New York, though crowded, might not be the easiest city in which to meet people.
"Mom, don't worry," I replied. "The last thing I am interested in is meeting a boy."
To my surprise, a mere twelve weeks later, I met the man of my dreams. He was a tall, dark, and handsome New Yorker, the total package. A friend introduced us and arranged our first meeting, which didn't start off very smoothly. I went with him and a group of mutual friends on a trip to a large mall in West Nyack, New York. I immediately found him to be very attractive. He was gorgeous but also loud and brash, a typical New Yorker and a total guy's guy. I, on the other hand, am a not-so-loud midwestern gal who was brought up in an entirely different environment than he.
The curt and to-the-point way in which he communicated would definitely take some getting used to. That was evident on that first day we met. Imagine my surprise that day when the first store on his agenda was Yankee Candle Company. Not only that, he seemed to be somewhat of a candle connoisseur, floating around from one candle to the next, taking in each one's scent and speaking of them in knowing terms.
I was intrigued by him and decided a little flirting might be in order — only I was terrible at it. That didn't stop me from trying.
I walked over to him, smiled coyly, and blurted out the first line that came to mind.
"Ooh, looks like you're really into candles, huh?" He looked back at me, looking completely unamused and slightly annoyed. "Yeah ... so?" he replied, sounding offended.
Hmm, I thought. Not quite the reaction I was hoping for.
He was obviously irritated at my flirting gone awry. I was annoyed myself and decided I didn't like him after all. Without so much as another word, I turned on my heels and left the store, trying my best to avoid him for the remainder of the day.
What had, in those moments, annoyed me completely drew me in at the same time. This guy had managed to put me in my place in an instant. Not an easy thing to do with this feisty girl.
We had the same group of friends, so I wasn't able to avoid him for long. As much as I hated to admit it, I was still pretty captivated by him. I managed to downplay it when he was around and act like I couldn't care less about his presence. He obviously wasn't interested in me, so why waste my time? Imagine my surprise when a mere three weeks later he came up to me out of the blue and asked if I would be interested in having a movie night with him.
Um ... huh?
I was confused. I stood there for a moment formulating my response when he smiled at me — that cute, crooked, like-he-was-up-to-no-good smile. In that moment I knew I was about to dive headfirst into a relationship that would forever change my life.
I said yes to the movie night and yes to spending many more days getting to know him. Before I knew it, I had fallen in love.
* * *
On October 16, 2004, seven months after our first meeting, Joel proposed and I accepted. We were married in Oklahoma on July 2, 2005, in front of a group of friends and family. The location was a beautiful chapel in the woods, with soaring ceilings and glass windows everywhere.
Our wedding day was magical in every way possible. I remember the poignant moments of pledging our love forever, our first kiss as man and wife where he cupped my face gently in his hands, and the joy written on both of our faces. I also remember the lighthearted moment, during our first dance, when Joel told me he was so nervous he had been downing Tums all morning long.
After our wedding we headed back to New York and to our tiny little apartment in the Bronx. Less than a year into our marriage, we were longing for a change, and more space. New York City is an incredible city to live in but an extremely hard one at that the same time. Everything was terribly expensive. Starting a family was on our mind, and we knew if we stayed we would be raising our children in a tiny apartment, lugging strollers up and down subway steps. We wanted more for ourselves than that. A move south would make it possible. Though Oklahoma certainly lacked the excitement and entertainment New York did, it gave us what we wanted in return: great jobs, a brand-new house, and stability.
We settled in easily and thrived in making our house a home. Decorating and Pier One runs became our favorite activity. We quickly made new friends and loved having them over, while our very own pampered chef, Joel, cooked us fabulous meals. Hanging out in coffee shops was a favorite pastime, especially ones that also served cupcakes. Many a Friday evening was spent cheering on Oklahoma's newly acquired NBA team and walking around downtown. Oklahoma certainly greeted us with open arms. Life couldn't get much more perfect than it already was.
* * *
"So, what do you think about going ahead and trying to get pregnant?" I said to my husband in the car while driving home from a quick grocery run.
Admittedly, it was an odd time to broach such a subject, but it wasn't completely random. A journey to the back of the store to pick up an item had taken us right by the baby section. That meant we had to stroll by the land of all things teeny tiny and adorable. It wasn't as if babies weren't on our radar. It was the very reason we had moved to Oklahoma. What was holding us back was the timing.
Despite all their attempts to prevent a pregnancy, my parents had gotten pregnant with me their first month of marriage. Joel and I had a pregnancy "scare" the first month of our marriage as well. I remember the relief I felt at the negative sign on the pregnancy test. The thought of being pregnant at that time was terrifying for me. It wasn't that I didn't want to be a mom. I wanted it more than anything. It was just about finding the right moment. And at that point I didn't feel ready. I assumed getting pregnant would come easily for me. It had for my mom; why would I be any different?
That incident was a year prior. Now I was feeling more than ready. We had gotten through the adjustment first year of marriage, had relocated to a new state, and had a brand-new home and stable jobs and income. I felt there was no better time than now.
"Are you sure, babe?" my husband asked. "I mean, do you feel ready for all that comes along with a baby? Especially no sleep. I know how you like your sleep." He laughed.
"I feel ready," I said in return. "There's no better time than now. I know we've always imagined it would happen quickly, but what if it doesn't? I'm almost twenty-five, you're almost twenty-nine — at a certain point the clock starts to tick," I stated, tapping my wristwatch for dramatic effect.
"You know I've been ready for a while. If you are ready, I say we go for it. But trust me, I think it will happen quickly."
Boy, how I wish he had been right.
* * *
At the very beginning, it's not that you are trying to get pregnant; you are just not preventing. This is the fun part. Your life is ripe with the possibility of what's to come. Each month could be a life-changing one, and you wait in eager anticipation for when that moment will come.
The beginning was exciting. We just knew we would be pregnant within the first few months. After six months, and many failed pregnancy tests, I began to wonder: Why is this taking so long? After nine months, an even heavier thought: What if something is wrong with me?
A visit to my OB showed I had a condition called polycystic ovary syndrome. While it's not anything that will prevent you from getting pregnant, it can complicate things. For me it meant an erratic monthly cycle that was hard to predict. Her recommendation was a round of fertility drugs she was fairly certain would do the trick.
One month on the drugs: nothing.
Two months on the drugs: nothing.
These drugs tend to lose their most potent effectiveness after three months. We were about to hit that mark and were perplexed at the lack of results. When my doctor recommended a surgery to go in and manually cut off the cysts from my ovaries, we jumped at the thought. The surgery would be followed by one last month of fertility drugs. Surely this was the answer, and we would finally get pregnant.
The surgery was much more invasive than I thought and required a three-day hospital stay. Joel was there with me every step of the way, sleeping on the hospital couch and helping me out of bed. It was painful, but I didn't mind taking one for the team. Joel had been tested, and nothing was wrong with his ability to produce a baby. Really, nothing was badly wrong with me. There was nothing they could see that would totally prevent us from having a child, so I believed we would have one. After the surgery I was more hopeful than ever.
Three months on the drugs, and after the surgery: nothing.
Our OB said there was no more she could do on her end and at that point recommended a fertility specialist. I wanted answers. I didn't understand why, if there were no major issues, a pregnancy wasn't happening for us. Our diagnosis of "unexplained infertility" didn't sound like a diagnosis at all. It sounded like a mockery. It was a diagnosis that said something must be happening, but we don't know exactly what.
We knew a visit to a fertility specialist would mean much more invasive measures. We were already tired physically and worn out emotionally from the last year and a half of trying. The decision was made to take a breather, some time off.
Even though we were not, at that point, using any medical measures to try to move things along, it was heartbreaking each month when we still weren't pregnant. I had a large stash of pregnancy tests I kept under the counter. At the slightest hint of a pregnancy symptom, I would run into the bathroom and take a test. Negative, negative, negative, every time. With each negative test, my heart started to lose hope it would ever happen for us.
Then there was a glimmer of hope. We were three long years into the process when I started to develop some very strong symptoms indicating I might be pregnant. Not only that, my cycle was two weeks late. I had held off on taking a pregnancy test because I was scared — scared of another negative result and the rejection that came along with it. Finally, fifteen days after my cycle should have begun, I couldn't wait any longer. Without any fanfare, I made my way to the bathroom and pulled out another trusty pregnancy test. I took a deep breath and said a prayer.
"Please, God, let me be pregnant. I don't even care as much for myself anymore, but I want this so badly for Joel. He will make the best daddy. He wants it so badly. We have waited long enough. Please let today be the day," I whispered.
With that I took a deep breath and did the test. I put it on the counter away from my line of sight, sat on the floor, and waited the required three minutes.
When the moment finally arrived, I stood up slowly and walked over to the test.
Negative.
I had seen many negative pregnancy tests in my day, so this one shouldn't have come as a shock. But there was something about this month; it had felt like it was finally our time. It was not to be. I was so frustrated. I didn't understand why this wasn't happening for us. Sixteen-year-old girls were accidentally getting pregnant and having babies all the time. My friends were getting pregnant without even trying. People were always asking us the question "When are you two going to have a baby?" If only they knew the years and years we had been trying to no avail. It was all too much. In that moment I sank to the ground, curled into a little ball, and started to sob.
My husband ran into the bathroom to see what was wrong. He glanced at me on the ground and saw the pregnancy test on the counter, quickly putting two and two together. I was sobbing uncontrollably. He knelt down on the floor and wrapped his arms around me.
"Baby, it's okay. Don't cry."
"I can't take it anymore. I just want to have a baby. Is that too much to ask? It happens for people all the time, but not me. It's all my fault. We're not pregnant because of my stupid body not working. I just want you to be a dad. I'm so sorry you're not a dad! It's all because of me."
He looked at me in shock for the thoughts I was thinking and the desperation I was feeling. They were words I had never voiced but that weighed heavily on my mind.
"It is not your fault at all. How can you say that?" he said.
"Because it is! If my body would just work right!" I yelled.
"None of this is your fault. I know you want this more than anything. I want this more than anything. Trust me, it will happen."
"How can you be so sure?" I replied.
"I've just always believed it will happen for us, babe. I don't know how, and I don't know when; I just know it will happen."
I wished I shared his optimism. The truth was, with each passing month I became less and less convinced. I also felt more and more like a failure. I was a woman; this was what my body was created to do, and I was failing at it miserably. I had had surgeries, taken drugs, been poked and prodded to no end, and was still no further along than I had been. I wanted to give my husband a child, make my parents grandparents. Everyone had been so hopeful and excited. It felt like I was responsible for continually dashing everyone's hopes and dreams. The amount of guilt I was feeling for it all was nearly crushing me.
I lay on that bathroom floor for quite a while. The sobs eventually stopped and turned into silent, warm tears dripping down my cheeks. My husband stayed by my side the entire time, handing me tissues and wiping the tears from my face. As I finished, he slowly pulled me to my feet and enveloped me in a huge hug. As I pulled away, he cupped my face in his hands.
"One day, you are going to be the best mom there ever was."
* * *
An entire year had passed since that moment. I was now about to turn twenty-nine years old, my husband, thirty-three. We were a long time removed from that grocery store run conversation, nearly four years prior. We had never stopped trying to conceive but were still coming up empty-handed. The months once filled with anticipation for what could be were now filled with predictable dread for what I knew was to come — another month of no results. I was to the point where I was numb. I never expected it, so I didn't cry about it. The basket under my sink, once overflowing with pregnancy tests, now held a single expired test that hadn't been used in nearly a year. My heart feared I would never be able to have a child.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from From Depths We Rise by Sarah Rodriguez. Copyright © 2016 Sarah Rodriguez. Excerpted by permission of Barbour Publishing, Inc..
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
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