Amor a la Mexicana

You bring out the Mexican in me.
I love you with furia y pasión.
And with tears that fill up my eyes but have too much orgullo to spill.

You bring out the Mexican in me.
I love you with rabia y temblor.
And with the sweet tenderness that only tu can make me feel.

You bring out the Mexican in me.
That bipolar kind of love.
Y te amo, like a manic.
Like the most pinches of the thrills.

You bring out the Mexican in me.
Inspired by Sandra Cisneros, “Your Bring Out the Mexican in Me”


algo único



No no matter how much you think you’re prepared to hear the news you were expecting, it still beats the shit out of you when you realize the truth.

There’s a poem by Leslea Newman called Attitude Adjustment that I can’t ever seem to get out of my head. It goes…

I am a negative person
A very negative person.
I have always been a negative person.
My mother said, “Don’t be so negative,”
My father said, “Accentuate the positive,”
I say, “Expect the worst.
If it happens, you won’t be disappointed. 

If it doesn’t happen, you’ll be surprised.”

And I’ve tried to live by that since I first read those lines.

It  hasn’t worked.

By nature, I am positive. By nature, I hurt.

When my wife starts feeling down about anything I am usually the one who tries to cheer her on and reassure that no matter what comes our way, we will get through it as we always have. And we do. But still, I hurt.

We have been waiting to hear good news for a very long time now. We have changed plans, we have switched paths, we have tried artificial methods, controlled substances, natural drugs, known donors, anonymous donors, kissing, not kissing, making love…

In hopes that we will get that love in return.

And still,

It hurts.

When will it be our turn? When will we feel like we’re complete?

When will we stop hurting?

Don’t get me wrong, I am complete with her. What we have is algo ùnico, something unique. Something no one else can come between. But we ache.

I’ve heard the song of our child. I’ve dreamed that her mother (my wife’s) has bought a new home with an entire nursery to spoil our little baby balu. She (my wife) is the most motherly instinctive person I have ever met. And yet…we’re here.


Back to square one.

Back to where it hurts.

Back to where we get knocked down after weeks of holding on to hope. After feeling physical things we were sure were going to be the “yes, this is now.”

And we wait.

And we plan.

And we cancel sending out Christmas cards this year because it just wouldn’t be the same.

And I act like everything’s okay while I get teary eyed at work.

And even though it’s the most painful gut-wrenching-i-feel-like-throwing-up kind of pain, I hold on to hope.

Because I know you’re out there baby, and we’re right here.

We’ll always be right here.




Please don’t turn back now

Hush little baby, don’t you cry
Momma and I are here to sing you a lullaby

We’ve waited so long, we’ve dreamed of your face
We’re ready to hold you and to feel your embrace

Please trust that we’ll catch you
Don’t go hiding again

You’ve come so close baby,
Please, won’t you stay?

Momma is nervous,
As I am too

So please make it home baby,
We’re waiting for you


A few mornings ago Viviana was telling me that she was sitting in her car talking to God before going in to work, asking for a sign that it will work this time. As soon as she looked up, she saw a pregnant woman walk into her building and she felt an overwhelming calming sensation fall over her.

As I was listening to her I couldn’t help but feel pain. I don’t want her to keep hurting. I wish I could give her everything she’s ever wanted and could possibly need to feel complete.

I was peeved.

I was angry because we’ve been so hopeful each time. Never would we have imagined it was going to take this long. We thought for sure it would work the first time…now here we are, the 4th time around. And there was absolutely nothing I could say or do to support her excitement.

So I stood in the shower, letting the water wash down my emotions while I too had a private conversation with God. Only I wasn’t asking for a sign. I asked him to please stop pulling us along if we were only going to be faced with disappointment again.

When I opened my eyes, I heard Robin on Good Morning America presenting Garth Brooks’ new song and in the shower, I silently cried.

I don’t know if this was a sign that our baby is on its way or if it was a sign that again, our baby’s not ready. I chose to think positive.

I chose to believe that this time it is going to happen. I made a pact that I would talk to our baby each day, even if he wasn’t forming in momma’s belly just yet. I want to make sure s/he knows that we’re ready and that there is nothing to be scared about. Sometimes I talk to him/her in private, sometimes I whisper into Viviana’s  belly, but most times I hope.

I hope and I pray and I wish that this is the point of no return.

So here’s to you baby, you’re going to be alright.


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