Four years of treatments, a heart that stopped beating, and the faith that changed everything.
For more than fifteen years, Verónica de León brightened up Guatemala's mornings on television. Her smile, energy, and professionalism made her a familiar face to thousands of families. But behind the cameras, Verónica was fighting a silent battle that few knew about: the struggle to become a mother.
In this conversation with Andrea Cardona, Veronica opens her heart and shares a story that touches on pain, faith, marriage in crisis, and ultimately, miracle. It is a story that many women will recognize as their own.
Verónica had always managed to achieve her goals when and how she wanted. She studied what she wanted, got her dream job, and when she met Jorge Mario—a man who was just as organized and successful—she knew it was time to start a family.
"We got married and planned those first years of marriage. We're going to travel, we're going to do this, we're going to do that. And then we're going to become parents," recalls Veronica.
They were so confident in their plan that before getting married, they underwent every possible fertility test. Everything was perfect. She even quit her job before getting pregnant, convinced that the baby would arrive soon.
But life had other plans.
Three years after getting married, when they decided to try for a baby, Veronica and Jorge Mario hit an unexpected wall. She wanted to have twins—her husband is a twin—and they looked for a doctor who could perform in vitro fertilization, even though technically they didn't need it.
"I had two IVF treatments that weren't necessary. I didn't get pregnant with either one," she says. "When the doctors told us, 'the worst that can happen is that you'll get pregnant with one,' because we were a fertile couple with all our tests in order."
They decided to leave it alone and let nature take its course. Two more years passed. Nothing.
That's when Veronica begins to interpret her situation as divine punishment: "We got involved in deciding things that weren't our business. That's what I thought. Today I understand it differently. Today I know that it doesn't work that way, that there was a greater purpose."
What followed was, in Veronica's words, "the darkest period" of her life. Without a job, far from Guatemala, living in Xela while her husband continued with his professional routine, she began to sink.
"I felt like I was suffocating, like I was sinking deeper and deeper. I had left my life in Guatemala behind completely. He continued working, he continued with his daily routine. I had left my job to become a mother, to play house... without dolls. That's how I felt."
The symptoms were devastating: isolation, shame, the feeling that everyone was her enemy. Every pregnancy she saw felt like a knife in her heart. Every question about when they would have children forced her to lie: "No, we don't want to yet" or "I don't know if I want to become a mother."
One important detail that Veronica wants to make clear: she and her husband experienced infertility in completely different ways. "I saw my husband laughing, telling me to travel, and I felt alone, suffering without him. Whereas from his point of view, it was: 'She needs me, I can't break down because she's broken down. I have to be the rock in this marriage.'"
In the midst of that darkness, Veronica made a crucial decision: she needed to return to work. She told Ricardo, her close friend and production director at the channel: "I need to go back to work. If life is denying me one fulfillment, I can't deny myself the other that is important to me: being a professional woman."
Ricardo replied, "Let's put ourselves in God's hands, Vero. You'll see that He will move the pieces."
Two weeks later, a colleague resigned. That job was for Veronica.
"For me, it was like they were throwing me a lifeline in that pool where I was drowning. Finally, I was going to get out of that mud where I couldn't find a way out."
The decision was not easy. It meant living apart from her husband during the week. They went to a couples therapist, who gave them a clear diagnosis: rejecting this opportunity would do more damage to their marriage than accepting it. Veronica could develop resentment and remain trapped in that emotional tangle.
Back in Guatemala, Verónica flourished professionally. But something dangerous began to happen: she started associating Xela with failure and Guatemala with success. She no longer wanted to return. If her husband wanted to see her, he had to come to her.
"I'm starting to see my husband as an enemy, as part of my failure in life. He was part of my failure."
The situation reached a breaking point. Verónica told Jorge Mario that she would not return to Xela unless it was with her family. He replied that his work and his life were there. They separated.
It was a brief moment, but it was real. Until Jorge Mario made a decision that would change everything: "I've made up my mind. You're right. We're going to Guatemala. We're going to fight there, we're going to seek more help. We have to stick together."
Once reunited in Guatemala, the couple found something that would transform their journey: a deep connection with their faith. They began attending Mass every Sunday, joined a marriage retreat, and fell in love with the Catholic couples movement.
"We met again. We found a group of lovely couples who, for the most part, had arrived there after a crisis. I think we often wait for a crisis to come before we return to God as the center of our lives."
With their faith renewed and feeling stronger as a couple, they decided to seek medical help again. But this time, something had changed: they were willing to accept not having children if that was what God wanted.
A priest said something to Veronica that freed her from years of religious guilt: "God gives wisdom to doctors so that they can do everything humanly possible. If God wants you to become a mother, you will become one. If He doesn't want you to, it won't matter if you undergo eighty treatments."
After four years of treatment, she got the first positive result of her life. Veronica had never seen those two lines before. She was convinced that her baby was on the way. She told everyone: family, friends, the whole world.
At four and a half months, the baby's heart stopped beating.
It was December 22. Veronica had already prepared baby Christmas gifts for her entire family.
What happened next defines who Verónica de León is. Leaving the clinic where she received the news, on her way to the hospital for the curettage, she said to her husband, "Let's go to the Blessed Sacrament."
"I arrived crying and thanked him. I knelt down and said, 'Thank you, Father, because you know why you are doing this. You know what you were saving us from. Even though I don't understand it right now, I know you have better plans for us. And I accept that. Here is my heart.'"
Veronica wanted to give up. She told her husband that she had had enough: she didn't want to inject herself anymore, she didn't want to get her hopes up again, she didn't want to go through that pain again.
In January, he went to his follow-up appointment with the intention of saying goodbye to the process. He told his doctor, Dr. León Tretsch: "I'm not going to continue. I've had enough."
Then something happened that Veronica describes as supernatural. The doctor took her hands firmly and said, "Vero, don't do this to me. We're so close. We've already gotten your positive result. I promise we're going to make it. Please, let me try one more time."
"I felt such a strong energy. I felt that it wasn't him who was talking to me. It was something bigger than what we were experiencing."
Veronica agreed. One last time.
On February 16, she found out she was pregnant. This time, with twins.
The pregnancy was anything but easy. At four and a half months, fifty percent of Mariana's placenta detached. There was severe bleeding. Veronica was confined to bed for two months—she couldn't even go to the bathroom; they changed her diapers.
The twins were born at 29 weeks, premature but fighters. They spent a month in intensive care, but every day brought good news. There were never any infections or serious scares.
But the real miracle, says Veronica, came nine months later: she became pregnant completely naturally with her daughter Montserrat.
"I always said to my husband, 'How do people feel when they do little things and suddenly, positive?' And he would say, 'I don't think we'll ever know.' And then suddenly, boom. Pregnant."
For Veronica, Montserrat was divine confirmation: "I felt that it was God telling me, 'Yes, I also wanted you to be a mother, and it was I who made it happen.'"
Today, Verónica de León is a different woman. She lives in Xela with her family—yes, she returned, but this time with her children, just as she had promised. She works from home producing podcasts, maintains a close connection with her audience through social media, and enjoys being four minutes away from her parents.
But the most profound change is internal.
"I was always a woman who lived very much in the future, with a lot of anxiety. Today I repeat to myself every day: don't be anxious. You have to enjoy the present. Life, far from being a destination, is a journey. And we often spend our time saying 'when I graduate, when I get married, when I become a mother, when my children are in school'... and we don't enjoy the journey, which is really what life is all about."
When Andrea asks her about a phrase that sustains her in difficult times, Veronica responds without hesitation: "This too shall pass."
This conversation reveals truths that transcend the issue of fertility:
Infertility is experienced differently by couples. Just because your partner isn't breaking down doesn't mean they aren't suffering. They may be your rock precisely because they see you falling.
Seeking professional help does not contradict faith. As that priest said to Veronica: God gives wisdom to doctors. Science and faith can go hand in hand.
Sometimes help comes from where you least expect it. For Veronica, going back to work did not mean giving up on her dream of becoming a mother; it meant surviving so she could keep fighting.
Marriages grow during crises. As Andrea reflects: having a partner is like having a mirror that shows you your blind spots. Time spent together, whatever it may be, is an opportunity for transformation.
Gratitude can coexist with pain. Being thankful in the midst of suffering does not deny the pain; it transcends it.
And perhaps the most important lesson: the journey is life. Not the destination, not the goal, not "when I get there." The journey. The sleepless nights, the injections, the tears, the hands held in a clinic. All of that is living.
If you are going through a similar process, if you feel alone in this struggle, if you need to hear that someone else went through that darkness and found light on the other side: this episode is for you. And if you know someone who needs it, share it. Sometimes, knowing that we are not alone is the first step to moving forward.
