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  • Writer's pictureNicole Alviti

Dream Crusher

I was just a child when I used to tell my mom that I was going to live with her forever with my 18 children. She laughed at the dreaded thought of me never leaving home.


When I was in high school, I remember telling my best friend how much I wanted to be a young mom. She thought I was crazy.


I always said I wanted to have my kids before I was 25, just like my mom did. I wanted so badly to feel that same close bond and special love.


Early on in my 20's I was diagnosed with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, or PCOS and Premenstrual Dysphoric Disorder, or PMDD. In doing lots of research after this conversation, a lot of things started making sense. Specifically the extreme pain, both physically and mentally I struggled with on a daily basis all through high school and after. The doctor who diagnosed me told me if I did not have kids by the time I was 28, that it would be extremely difficult for me to get pregnant. I thought to myself, "no problem, I'll have kids by then for sure."


At the time, I had been with my boyfriend, Vinny, a couple of years already. Sure, we had conversations about our future. We talked about marriage but neither of us were really sure we wanted to ever get married. What we did both know for sure, was that we wanted to be together and we wanted to have children. After discussing the potential challenges my diagnosis would bring upon us, we confidently decided I would stop taking birth control and start letting fate take over. We informed our parents of our decision so they were not blind sided in the event we were successful. They of course had questions, but couldn't have been more supportive.


After a couple years of "if it happens, it happens", sure enough, it didn't happen.


At age 26, I started with a new OB who immediately ran a whole bunch of diagnostic testing to confirm my previous diagnosis. This included a hysterpingogram to check for blocks in my tubes, and a minor exploratory surgery called a hysteroscopy. During this procedure (June of 2013) my doctor performed a proactive D&C, removing polyps that were found and essentially giving me a "clean slate" to ensure a healthy atmosphere for a baby to grow.


Later that month, Vinny would go for his own diagnostic testing, before I started my first round of Clomid as planned. Little did we know, while I was anxiously sitting in the waiting room for him, I was already pregnant.


We found out about 3 weeks later (July of 2013) that I infact, had conceived on my own after the procedures I had done. We were elated, to say the least. We told close family and friends at first. We were SO excited that we broke the assumed "3 month rule" and announced our news at the end of the month, around his birthday. I was making plans with my mom and my cousin to go baby shopping. Vinny started buying more mature work attire, so adorably saying he had to buy "dad shirts" to look the part.. (I think this was my favorite part of all because he was so happy). Our parents were so excited to be grandparents, mine for the first time and his for the first time in 10 years. They started to buy baby clothes and picture frames. A few weeks after that, all of our hearts were broken.


When I first found out I was pregnant, my doctor had me going for HCG blood tests every other day to watch what my number did. The HCG count is supposed to double daily. In the beginning, it wasn't raising as quickly as the doctor felt it should be. She had me going for ultrasounds every week to monitor the baby's growth. It's growth started out on the slower side, but always had a strong heart beat. We got to hear the baby's heart beat! We got scan pictures for our picture frames, and copies for our parents. Soon enough, the growth caught up, my HCG was increasing as it should, and everything "looked great!"


One day towards the end of August while I was at work, I was helping a patient who was being sort of difficult and was making me very anxious. I got up from my chair and felt this pit in my stomach, like my stomach just bottomed out. I went to the bathroom because I didn't feel well, and saw that I had started clotting. I was too afraid to move because I knew what this could mean. I sat in the break room talking to the doctor on staff that day, who started to tell me about her own fertility problems when she was younger, and how she lost a baby around 5 months along. I remember thinking how awful and terrifying that must have been for her. I couldn't even imagine. She tried comforting me, explaining that bleeding doesn't always mean miscarriage. Still, I couldn't shake this awful feeling, that I knew what was happening. Eventually, I got up and drove myself down the street to my parents house, because I was too afraid to drive all the way home to Cambridge. I laid on the couch with my feet up while my dad sat with me for a bit before calling my doctor.


My doctor had me go in right away for an ultrasound, to which my mom drove me. I will never forget the stone cold inconsiderate tech, who is never supposed to give results mind you, that so nonchalantly took it upon herself to tell us that nothing was showing on the screen and that I couldn't still be pregnant. She had me wait in the room while she went and got the doctor to come in and talk to me. The doctor asked if I wanted to have a D&C or try to pass it on my own at home. "Pass it on my own at home", like it was a kidney stone or something. The NERVE of this hospital to be so insensitive was so unbelievably mind blowing. Of course I didn't want them to be anywhere near me anymore, so I went home.


That night, I sat on the toilet for what seemed like hours as blood just POURED out of me while I balled my eyes out. It felt as if there were no end in sight. All Vinny could do was stand there and watch, feeling helpless. When it finally "passed" I held it in my hands and I know I saw the faintest resemblance of a sweet little baby face. I may have only been 10 weeks along, but that image will forever haunt me. My first angel baby.





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