This interview is based on a conversation with Laura Orrico, 49, a film and television actor and president of her own PR firm in Chicago. It has been edited for length and clarity.
On June 9, 2025, I received the incredible news that my embryo transfer was successful and that I was pregnant.
The first thing I did was go to the drug store to buy a celebratory balloon. I put it in a Trader Joe’s bag and drove to see my 79-year-old mom, who has multiple sclerosis and Parkinson’s, and was in a rehab facility at the time.
I told her to reach inside the bag because the balloon didn’t automatically float out. She extracted it and read out what it said.
“Congratulations?” she said, looking puzzled. “What do you mean?”
I took a deep breath and said, “Congratulations, Grandma!” The penny dropped. She started crying tears of joy and relief.
I thought motherhood had passed me by
Mom, perhaps more than anyone else, knew the roller coaster of emotions I was experiencing. At 48, and widowed for nearly a decade, I’d almost given up hope of having a baby with the love of my life.
Ryan and I met on a night out with friends in June 1999, when we were both 22. We went to the cinema as a group of six, but I was so busy talking to this cute, friendly guy next to me that I didn’t see a single scene of the movie.
At the end of the night, he asked me out on a date. We went to dinner three days later, then saw the same movie so we could appreciate it that second time around.
We both attended Columbia College, Chicago, where he studied directing and screenwriting, while I studied TV writing and producing.
Our time together revolved around films, dining out, and playing mini golf. Everyone in my family loved Ryan, and I loved his folks.
We got engaged on Christmas Eve 2002, when he wrapped my engagement ring in a series of boxes of different sizes, which I opened in front of our families. We couldn’t have been happier and got married on June 19, 2004.
Children weren’t an immediate priority
We lived in Studio City, California, establishing what turned out to be very successful careers in show business. Ryan was a graphic designer in television and film, and I was an actor.
Life was running at 100 miles an hour. Though we talked about having kids and how fun that would be, it wasn’t a priority. We thought we had plenty of time in the future.
Then, in 2006, Ryan started having terrible migraines, which took him to the ER a couple of times. One night, in July 2007, I woke up in the middle of the night to see him having a grand mal seizure.
It lasted a good seven minutes, the scariest thing I’d ever witnessed. He was rushed to the hospital and eventually diagnosed with a grade three brain tumor at the age of 31.
He had surgery, which removed 75% of the growth, but the rest was inoperable. He needed chemotherapy and other intensive medical treatments.
We took his doctor’s advice and had his sperm frozen ahead of time, in case it affected his fertility.
They were bouncing around all these different procedures for his tumor, yet all Ryan was thinking about was making sure I could have a baby in the future, whether he was alive or not. It was typical of his kind, caring personality.
I had a series of miscarriages
Six years went by, and we focused on Ryan’s health and recovery. There were ups and downs, and he had a short remission. In 2013, we tried in earnest for a baby through rounds of IUI, IVF, and I once got pregnant naturally.
Sadly, it wasn’t to be, and I had a miscarriage for the fourth time in 14 months. I was devastated because I knew what a great and loving father he would have been.
Then we got the crushing news that Ryan’s tumor was growing again. He always put on a brave, smiling face, and we had a party with friends to celebrate his 39th birthday. Even though he couldn’t really speak, he was beaming.
He died three weeks later on April 29, 2015. To be honest, the grieving started long before he passed. I was in mourning before he was gone. Afterward, I tried to numb myself, keeping busy, working, and traveling as much as I could.
I had psychological counseling and joined bereavement groups, and I was the only young widow. But it helped. I’m still friends with the same people now.
It was tough, but I re-entered the dating scene, which seemed very foreign to me as time had moved on. Still. Ryan and I had both said that, if anything were to happen to one of us, we didn’t want the other person to be alone.
I returned to the fertility clinic
“I want you to find somebody to take care of you,” he would say. I had several relationships, but they didn’t work out for whatever reason. I hoped I’d meet the right guy to have a baby with, but as the years went by, it was looking less likely.
So, after turning 48, I took matters into my own hands. I used what we had left at our fertility clinic to have IVF, in line with what Ryan had agreed when he first became sick.
The doctors said that I was fit enough to have a healthy pregnancy, and I was lucky enough to prove them right.
My entire family, including Ryan’s parents, was incredibly supportive throughout the whole nine months. They were thrilled when my daughter, Aviana, was safely delivered on February 5, 2026.
Like me, they can see Ryan’s handsome features in our daughter’s mannerisms and face — an incredible joy.
Aviana is fascinated by my mom, and the three of us live here together, making new memories together every day. I know Ryan would be incredibly proud of us all.
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