help us fight to bring Oliver home to his family

My Story: How Boston Children’s Hospital and DCF Took My Children

On January 22, 2024, I brought my youngest son, Oliver, to Boston Children’s Hospital (BCH) seeking help. Since fall of 2023, Oliver had been battling a series of respiratory illnesses and recurrent ear infections. By early winter, he had lost 12.5% of his body weight in a short period of time. While Oliver has struggled with weight gain since birth, this was different. He was also passing blood in his stool, which began shortly after his first birthday in August 2023.

Oliver was admitted to BCH for evaluation and treatment for these concerns, along with an ear infection and conjunctivitis. I had no idea this would be the beginning of the worst year of our lives.

During his stay, Oliver underwent extensive testing, yet everything kept coming back normal. Then, on February 9, 2024, things took a dramatic turn. That day, Oliver underwent multiple procedures: a triple scope (which includes an endoscopy and colonoscopy), PICC line placement, and insertion of ear tubes. I was told these were routine and would take around two hours. They took over four.

By 1:00 PM, Oliver arrived in the PACU with his face swollen and his eyes barely open. I was told this was due to fluids and prolonged sedation. He remained mostly unresponsive until about 7:30 PM, when he woke up disoriented with a fixed gaze. I immediately alerted his nurse, who said he seemed fine but would page the medical team if I wanted. I insisted she do so.

It wasn’t until 11:00 PM—over three hours later—that an MRI/MRA was ordered. Because of his age, this required additional sedation. That scan revealed what I feared most: Oliver had suffered three strokes and at least one vertebral artery dissection. He was transferred to the ICU due to the high risk of neurological deterioration.

I was terrified. I had so many questions—Was my baby going to die? What happened? What caused this?

Neurology suspected the strokes were related to the recent procedures. Around this time, I also learned Oliver’s IV had been mistakenly placed in an artery, not a vein. They admitted that not all necessary tissue samples had been collected during the initial procedures—a supposed "oversight."

After two days in the ICU, Oliver stabilized enough to move to a neuro floor, and eventually back to his original unit. While he was neurologically stable, his original issues—weight loss and bloody stool—persisted. Despite numerous diet changes, he wasn’t gaining weight. He also became anemic, and his hemoglobin and hematocrit levels dropped so severely that he required blood transfusions. On top of that, Oliver developed bloodstream infections and became septic.

On March 14, 2024, he was discharged—still losing weight, still passing blood in his stool. That very morning, he passed a blood clot. I questioned the decision to discharge him, but we were sent home.

Just 11 days later, on March 25, Oliver was readmitted. A short stay was planned, with a follow-up admission scheduled after Easter. On April 2, he returned to the hospital. This time, doctors proposed TPN (IV nutrition) because he wasn't absorbing enough enterally. A new PICC line was placed, and another colonoscopy performed. Thankfully, this time, the procedures went smoothly.

Once on TPN, Oliver finally began gaining weight. But the question remained: Why wasn’t he absorbing nutrition through his GI tract? Why was there still blood in his stool?

Three weeks later, complications returned. Oliver contracted COVID-19 from a roommate and again developed a bloodstream infection—from the same bacteria as before. He developed blood clots, including a septic one, requiring six weeks of antibiotics and the blood thinner Lovenox. Once again, his hemoglobin plummeted, and he needed more transfusions. No one could explain it. Hematology speculated early on about bone marrow suppression or GI blood loss but was hardly involved later. Tests were inconclusive, and his bleeding continued.

On June 4, I asked for a transfer to another hospital for a second opinion. That afternoon, I was called into a meeting. BCH decided to place a “sitter” in Oliver’s room to observe for anything they might have missed. I pushed back—it felt invasive—but agreed. A few days later, I attended another meeting with my father, who expressed our intent to pursue legal action due to Oliver’s strokes.

Shortly after, BCH filed a 51A report against me. They claimed that Oliver’s issues “resolved” once the sitter was placed. They falsely stated that he began gaining weight, that bleeding stopped, and that his hemoglobin stabilized. But medical records told a different story: Oliver had already been gaining weight while on TPN and formula before the sitter. Nursing notes documented blood in his diaper during the sitter’s presence. His hemoglobin even dropped again the day after the sitter arrived.

They left out critical facts: Oliver had a known corn allergy and had just started a new corn-free formula. He was no longer on Lovenox. He had a documented history of weight issues since birth, and had been hospitalized at just five days old. BCH excluded all of this in their report.

Then came the worst day of my life: June 26, 2024. I was escorted out of BCH by hospital security and DCF. My son was in the hospital, alone. I was given five minutes to say goodbye to my other two children, Dylan and Addison. All three were taken from me based on BCH’s incomplete and misleading report.

There were no concerns with Dylan or Addison, but DCF took them anyway “as protocol.” My daughter was 3 years old. My son was 11. They were terrified. For two weeks, I was barred from contact. Dylan and Addison were placed with their grandparents. Oliver remained in the hospital—without visitors, without comfort items, and without updates given to his family.

According to records, Oliver was force-fed through his G-tube until he vomited, sometimes multiple times a day. His right leg showed signs of weakness, but BCH dismissed the concerns despite their own documentation. They blocked his placement with his grandparents—even though they were caring for his siblings—until they found a foster home. Why did BCH have that much power?

Eventually, I was allowed one supervised visit per week with all three of my children at BCH. I couldn’t ask about Oliver’s health. I couldn’t bring toys, clothes, or anything from home. I was watched like a criminal. I had done nothing wrong. I was presumed guilty without a single piece of evidence—because BCH filed a report, possibly to protect themselves from legal consequences for Oliver’s strokes.

On August 20, 2024, the judge returned custody of Dylan and Addison to me. But Oliver remains in DCF custody, now living with his grandparents under a kinship agreement. I’m allowed only two one-hour supervised visits per week.

Despit lack of evidence, DCF is taking this to trial. But why? There is no evidence. Just false allegations from a hospital trying to avoid accountability. The doctor who filed the report admitted she was pressured into doing so.

How can this happen in our country? How can a mother lose her children without evidence? I have no history of abuse. No substance use. I’ve worked the same job for eight years. My children have been in daycare and school all their lives without a single concern raised.

Now, DCF controls Oliver’s care. He still struggles medically—on iron supplements, requiring 4 G-tube feeds a day, weekly feeding therapy, and early intervention for PT and OT due to right-side weakness. BCH denies this weakness, despite documentation. His PCP tried to refer him for a second opinion, but DCF blocked it.

In April, Oliver was diagnosed with Neurofibromatosis Type 1 (NF1) by BCH’s geneticist, Dr. Lance Rodan. This diagnosis explains his developmental delays and short stature—and raises serious medical concerns for his future. He now needs yearly follow-ups with Orthopedics, Ophthalmology. He will also be followed by the NF1 program at BCH. . His weight remains low—24.6 lbs, as of the latest appointment. He’s lost 2 pounds since September, and he’s now back in the 2nd percentile. His PCP raised concerns with BCH a month ago, and the response was to “wait and watch.” Now he's lost more weight.

When I asked again about a second opinion, I was told one would be arranged. But I recently learned that what they’re calling a “second opinion” isn’t a real evaluation at all. There will be no physical examination of Oliver. Instead, Hasbro Children’s Hospital in Rhode Island is only conducting a record review—looking over Boston Children’s medical notes, without ever seeing or examining my child in person. How can that possibly provide an accurate or unbiased second opinion?

How could BCH accuse me of medical abuse while withholding vital information from DCF? Why didn’t DCF investigate before tearing my family apart? Why aren’t they fighting for Oliver’s health now?

I am not guilty. I am a mother who fought for her child. My children are the ones suffering. Why won’t anyone help us? Why isn’t anyone holding BCH accountable?