8 min read
mood: honest
📸
The Hidden Cost of Transformation
If you saw my baby pictures compared to now, you'd probably say I look way better—and that's true. But what you wouldn't know is that it took 23 surgeries to get here, and technically, I'm still not done. I'm 31 years old.
The before and after photos that people love to share about cleft journeys? They're missing about 99% of the actual story.
The before and after photos that people love to share about cleft journeys? They're missing about 99% of the actual story.
👶 The Beginning No One Could Prepare For
👶
The Beginning No One Could Prepare For
I was born with bilateral cleft lip and palate in Mexico City in 1994. Back then, this condition wasn't as well-known or visible as it is today—and even now, it's rarely talked about because it's still considered rare. My mom had no idea I would be born this way. There was no time to research, no chance to prepare, no prenatal counseling about what to expect. She only learned about my condition after I arrived.
I couldn't eat. I couldn't be a "normal" baby. And my mom desperately needed help with virtually no resources to get it.
The universal healthcare system in Mexico offered assistance, but with a year-long waiting list—far too long for a newborn who couldn't feed properly. My mom found a private doctor within the hospital who agreed to operate without overcharging, and this should have been the beginning of a success story.
It wasn't.
I couldn't eat. I couldn't be a "normal" baby. And my mom desperately needed help with virtually no resources to get it.
The universal healthcare system in Mexico offered assistance, but with a year-long waiting list—far too long for a newborn who couldn't feed properly. My mom found a private doctor within the hospital who agreed to operate without overcharging, and this should have been the beginning of a success story.
It wasn't.
⚠️ When Medical Care Goes Wrong
⚠️
When Medical Care Goes Wrong
That doctor essentially used me as a learning experiment, causing more harm than good. My mom was devastated, but in Mexico at that time, medical lawsuits weren't common and the odds of winning were very slim. When she sought other opinions and realized she couldn't afford proper private care on her own, she made a decision that would change both our lives forever.
She left her great job in Mexico City and moved us to America—all to give me access to the medical care I desperately needed.
Let that sink in for a moment. A single mother gave up everything she knew, left her support system, her career, her entire life, because the healthcare system had failed her baby. That's the kind of sacrifice that doesn't show up in before and after photos.
She left her great job in Mexico City and moved us to America—all to give me access to the medical care I desperately needed.
Let that sink in for a moment. A single mother gave up everything she knew, left her support system, her career, her entire life, because the healthcare system had failed her baby. That's the kind of sacrifice that doesn't show up in before and after photos.
🏥 Finding Our Medical Home
🏥
Finding Our Medical Home
That's when we found Shriners Hospital, and they became our saving grace. They performed all my subsequent surgeries and did an amazing job working with what they had to work with. I'll never forget that journey or all the people I met along the way—the doctors and nurses who essentially became my extended family for 12 years.
I was probably in the hospital at least once a year for surgery, sometimes more. Twenty-three surgeries total. Let me repeat that: twenty-three surgeries before my twenty-first birthday.
People see the final result and think, "Wow, modern medicine is amazing!" And it is. But they don't see the years of my childhood spent in hospital beds, the missed school days and the social events I couldn't attend because I was recovering.
I was probably in the hospital at least once a year for surgery, sometimes more. Twenty-three surgeries total. Let me repeat that: twenty-three surgeries before my twenty-first birthday.
People see the final result and think, "Wow, modern medicine is amazing!" And it is. But they don't see the years of my childhood spent in hospital beds, the missed school days and the social events I couldn't attend because I was recovering.
🔄 The Surgery Cycle
🔄
The Surgery Cycle
No amount of experience made any surgery easier than the others. I went through the same emotional cycle every single time: first, I'd be the brave one going in, trying to reassure everyone else that I was fine. After surgery, I'd become the strong yet deeply depressed girl who just wanted to disappear from the world. Once I healed enough physically, I'd slowly emerge as my old self again.
But here's what the before and after photos never show: the hardest part wasn't even the surgeries themselves. It was the months of recovery at home afterward.
But here's what the before and after photos never show: the hardest part wasn't even the surgeries themselves. It was the months of recovery at home afterward.
💔 The Hidden Recovery
💔
The Hidden Recovery
Alone with my pain and feelings, I battled depression, self-hatred, fear, and resentment toward life and the world for dealing me this hand. While my face was healing, my mind was often falling apart. The physical recovery was just the visible part—underneath, I was processing trauma, grief, and the exhaustion of going through this cycle over and over again.
Each surgery meant starting over. Eating differently, speak clearly again, get used to how I looked in the mirror. Each time, I had to rebuild my confidence, relearn how to exist in public spaces, figure out how to explain my temporary changes to classmates and friends.
The recovery periods weren't just about healing incisions—they were about healing the part of me that felt broken every time I had to go through this process again.
Each surgery meant starting over. Eating differently, speak clearly again, get used to how I looked in the mirror. Each time, I had to rebuild my confidence, relearn how to exist in public spaces, figure out how to explain my temporary changes to classmates and friends.
The recovery periods weren't just about healing incisions—they were about healing the part of me that felt broken every time I had to go through this process again.
""What Success Actually Looks Like
So yes, if you compare my baby pictures to now, I look dramatically different. The surgeries worked. The medical intervention was successful by every measurable standard. My speech is clear, I can eat normally, my appearance is within the range of "typical."
But here's what success actually looks like in real life: I'm 31 years old, still trying to live fully, still working to accept myself completely, and still fighting the voices that try to tear me down. Some days I feel grateful for how far I've come. Other days I feel exhausted by how long the journey has been.
The before and after photos suggest a clear narrative: problem, solution, happy ending. The reality is way messier, ongoing, and infinitely more complex.
🌱
The Continuing Story
I'm technically still not done with surgeries. There might be more procedures in my future, more recovery periods, more cycles of that familiar emotional pattern. At 31, I'm still learning how to love the face that's been reconstructed so many times, still figuring out how to separate my worth from my appearance, still processing the trauma of growing up as a medical case study.
But I'm also here. I survived 23 surgeries, countless recovery periods, years of depression and self-doubt. I'm writing about it, talking about it, refusing to let my story be reduced to a simple before and after comparison.
Because the real story the one that doesn't fit in a photo comparison—is about resilience, sacrifice, complex medical journeys, and the reality that healing isn't just physical. It's about a mother who gave up everything for her child's future, a healthcare system that became family, and a person who's still becoming herself, one day at a time.
The before and after photos tell you what surgeries can accomplish. But they don't tell you what it costs, what it takes, or what it really means to rebuild yourself literally and figuratively over and over again.
That's the story that deserves to be told in full.
But I'm also here. I survived 23 surgeries, countless recovery periods, years of depression and self-doubt. I'm writing about it, talking about it, refusing to let my story be reduced to a simple before and after comparison.
Because the real story the one that doesn't fit in a photo comparison—is about resilience, sacrifice, complex medical journeys, and the reality that healing isn't just physical. It's about a mother who gave up everything for her child's future, a healthcare system that became family, and a person who's still becoming herself, one day at a time.
The before and after photos tell you what surgeries can accomplish. But they don't tell you what it costs, what it takes, or what it really means to rebuild yourself literally and figuratively over and over again.
That's the story that deserves to be told in full.