From Pain to Peace: My Journey with Adenomyosis and Embracing My Wholeness

By Maria Mamora | Endometriosis Foundation of Houston

Trigger Warning:

This post contains personal reflections on chronic pain, infertility, surgical procedures, and includes a photo of a uterus post-hysterectomy. Please read with care and pause if you need. You are not alone.

A Journey That Began at 11

I was just a child when the pain began—11 or 12, barely old enough to understand my body, let alone endure the waves of agony that came with each monthly cycle. Middle and high school were shaped not by carefree moments, but by days I barely made it through. I remember clenching my jaw, swallowing Midol, Advil, whatever I could find—until even those betrayed me. Eventually, I developed allergic reactions to almost every over-the-counter painkiller, including Tylenol.

Pain became my unwanted companion. It ruled my world in silence. I found some relief through cannabis, but even that felt like a patch, not a solution. The truth? My unmedicated labor and delivery—yes, unmedicated—was less painful than what I endured every month for decades.

Diagnosis and Awakening

I wasn’t diagnosed until I was 34. First it was endometriosis. I remember feeling both validated and heartbroken—finally a name for my pain, but also the realization that I had lived half my life without answers.

Two years after my son was born, as I struggled to conceive again, my doctor introduced a new word: adenomyosis. That diagnosis hit differently. It carried the weight of loss—the possibility that I might never carry another child. But it also eventually opened a door to something else: a reckoning with my own worth. Maybe, just maybe... I was already whole. Already enough.

My Hysterectomy and the Healing That Followed

In February 2018, I had a hysterectomy with excision surgery. Recovery took nearly nine months—not just for my body, but for the fragments of my spirit that had been scattered across years of pain.

I didn’t just want to “get better”—I wanted to heal.

I turned to functional medicine to repair my gut, which had been damaged by years of medication. I began pelvic floor physical therapy to realign what pain had twisted. I committed to mental health therapy to unearth the trauma buried beneath my endurance. And I embraced hypnotherapy and plant medicine to release what couldn’t be spoken.

The moment I saw a photo of my uterus after surgery, I didn’t feel rage—I felt sorrow. Deep, aching sorrow. She had held my pain for so long in silence. That moment changed me. I didn’t just grieve what I lost—I honored what had carried me through.

A Life Once Curled in Pain

I remember the nights—curled in bed, sobbing, soaked in tears and guilt, pleading with whatever higher power might listen. I remember passing clots and whispering apologies to my body. I still carry guilt—that my son will never have a sibling. But I’m learning to meet that guilt not with shame, but with compassion.

From Suffering to Something Greater

I co-founded the Endometriosis Foundation of Houston to support others like me. What started as a focus on endometriosis has grown to embrace the wider reality of chronic illness. We now acknowledge and explore conditions like adenomyosis—because every person living in pain deserves to be seen, heard, and believed.

Walk of Hope: A Step Toward Healing

This week, we walk.

The Houston Walk of Hope, hosted by local Houstonian and endo warrior Leah Chapman and benefiting Resolve: The National Infertility Association, isn’t just a fundraiser. It’s a sacred gathering of stories, of dreams deferred, of strength rediscovered. We walk for those who are silently living with pain, for partners who carry invisible loads, for families dreaming of growth, and for anyone seeking healing, clarity, and peace.

A Final Word

This walk is more than an event. It’s a declaration. A vow. A whisper to every hurting soul: you are not alone.

You are not defined by what was taken from you. You are defined by the power you hold, even when you tremble. By the hope you dare to carry. By the wholeness that has always been yours.

Join us. Walk with us. Hope with us.

Learn more: https://www.efhou.org/events-1/2025-houston-walk-of-hope