I became a mother at the age of 15 when I first gave birth to my baby a boy, Michael. By the time I was nineteen, I had two children and was raising them on my own. My second son, Carlos, was born with no skin on his hands, feet, or chest. I got suspicious right away knowing something is wrong.
Courtesy of Melissa Jaquez
Doctors diagnosed him with Recessive Dystrophic Epidermolysis Bullosa, a rare and painful skin disease. The slightest touch could cause his skin to blister or peel away. The hospital transferred him to another facility because his condition was so unusual. I felt lost and scared. His father, who was abusive, was nowhere to be found, but thankfully, my family stood by me.
Courtesy of Melissa Jaquez
Six months later, even though I was on birth control, I learned I was pregnant again. Specialists told me there was no way it could happen twice. But when my third son, Marky, was born, he had the same condition. I went numb. I was only twenty, had no diploma or job skills, and was living with my parents, caring for three children two with terminal illnesses.
Courtesy of Melissa Jaquez
I vowed I wouldn’t end up as just another number in the records. Life was still hard, and I went through more abusive relationships, but my children slowly began teaching me what real strength looked like.
Courtesy of Melissa Jaquez
One day, both boys had to be flown to Kansas City for medical tests. The small plane couldn’t take me with them. When I arrived later at the hospital, my husband met me at the door. His eyes told me before his words could. I ran to Carlos’s room and collapsed. CPR had torn his fragile skin, but nothing could save him. Three years after his diagnosis, my sweet boy passed away on November 21, 2013, at fourteen years old.
Courtesy of Melissa Jaquez
We didn’t tell Marky right away. The next morning, he said, “I had a dream about Carlos. He told me he loves us, that he’s in heaven, and he’s not hurting anymore.”
Marky is now nineteen. I know his time will come, but my faith in God and the lessons from my sons keep me moving forward. Despite living in constant pain, Marky always thinks of others before himself. “Mama, don’t be sad,” he says. “One day God will give me a new body, and I’ll be whole.”
Courtesy of Melissa Jaquez
He has never walked, eaten on his own, or done the simple things most people take for granted. Yet every day, I see his love, his joy, and his smile.
This is their story two boys who taught their mother how to keep hope alive and find strength through heartbreak.
