Some of you know me as Ruben, others as Ruensito and most of you do not know me at all. But to know my story, let me introduce you to a little kid born in a small village in the mountains of Mexico under the name of Cesar Omar Islas Pérez, on a hot night exactly as you would imagine it.

Back then we did not have much, not even a cradle for a premature baby born a few days shy of 6 months inside my mother’s belly. Although any doctor would say that it is practically impossible for a human baby to develop correctly in that short amount of time, he could see me as the exception that made the rule. Me, Cesar Omar.

But what exactly happened?

As a Mexican family mine was like every other, with drama following them every step, always running into bigger problems than they could handle. My mom especially, a short hot-tempered waitress was always getting into trouble according to my grandma, and that fateful night that I was born was a large dose of extra drama.

After she had broken up with her boyfriend of the time, the family of the guy decided to show up at her house to steal her belongings and kick her out with me included. To paint you a clear picture, you have to understand the extent of poverty and despair that we lived in Mexico’s inner-city projects, where gangs rule with terror and people die every day shot on sight for drug deals gone wrong.

When I say her house, I mean four walls and a tin roof, living day by day, kids crying, adults screaming, not sure how to survive until the next meal. Still, that house and the few belongings she had were reason enough to get her into an altercation that left her bleeding almost to death in a three meters deep ditch


As my mother held her stomach in pain inside the hole, she had to wait for hours until the Police arrived on the scene to take her out from the ground and transport her directly to a hospital for immediate intervention.

Looking up at the night sky, screaming in pain and praying to God, she had no choice but to have her stomach cut open to save me, to bring me to life. Thus, I would be forced into this world, fighting to breathe, to live.

The doctor explained that as a premature baby my whole body wasn’t ready to survive. Underweight and unable to fight infections, I required an incubator. But as you might conclude, the hospital didn’t have incubators for all the kids that need it due the poor circumstances and my family couldn’t afford a private hospital to get me one. And this is when my first adventure began.

My mother left the hospital five days postpartum and walked home to go find her family who had improvised a home-made incubator for me. I know you might be wondering what a home-made incubator might look like. A cozy blanket stuffed in a shoe box that would serve as a cradle, lined with two hot water bottles and topped by a light bulb that would provide the heat needed to keep a baby warm and alive.

The next day, before healing from her C section and still in a lot of pain my mom decided to go to the city looking for a job in order to support little baby me, born ahead of time and needing extra care.

To her surprise, that night when she came back from a disappointing job search, exhausted, she found me not only alive. I had been taken care of by her extended family, friends and even the neighbors. They were curious to see if I would survive, and so they brought all supplies a baby needs, and they watched over me. They gushed and said I had an angelic smile, calling me a miracle baby.

Bless them all, what a nosy bunch.

There was even a couple who were better off than us that offered my mother to adopt me so I could have a better life. But I’m glad she didn’t accept because I believe everything in life happens for a reason, and my destiny wanted to take that road of staying with my family.

And that’s how it happened, although the doctor insisted on saying the opposite, hours turned into days into weeks, then months, and here I am sharing this life story with you.

Life conquers all. Miracles happen every day and my story is the proof of that.

The story of a family that didn’t lose hope.

The story of a mom that didn’t give up on her child.

The story of a child ready to live despite everything.

The story of how Cesar Omar Islas Perez was born, the miracle baby.


Mucho amor,



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