Hudson’s CDH Story
At our 20-week anatomy scan, doctors noticed what appeared to be a slight weakness in the diaphragm on Hudson’s right side. They mentioned the possibility of congenital diaphragmatic hernia (CDH), but reassured us that it did not appear severe and that they would continue to monitor him closely throughout the pregnancy. We held onto that hope.
As first-time parents, the uncertainty was difficult. For weeks leading up to my induction—and especially in the days before Hudson was born—we worried about what his future might look like. Hearing that your baby may not be completely healthy is something no parent is ever truly prepared for.
I was scheduled to be induced at 38 weeks on March 30 at Mount Sinai Hospital in Toronto, but the night before, my water broke while we were already in the city. After a long night and day of labor, Hudson arrived at 10 p.m. on March 30.
The moments before I started pushing were surprisingly calm. The doctors, nurses, and my husband were incredibly reassuring and helped create a lighthearted environment that allowed me to focus on safely bringing our son into the world. For that, I will always be grateful.
Because of the concerns surrounding his diaphragm, we knew Hudson would need to be assessed immediately after birth. Even though we were prepared for that possibility, nothing could have prepared me for how difficult it would be to have only a few seconds with him before he was taken away. While I was being stitched up, Hudson was taken for assessment.
An hour later, I was wheeled to see him in the NICU. We were told he was having difficulty breathing. He was started on CPAP, and a couple of days later, he was transferred to SickKids.
What followed was one of the most emotional and mentally exhausting periods of our lives. Hudson was born on a Monday, but we had to wait an entire week before he could undergo an MRI. For seven days, we lived in limbo, unsure of what was happening or what the future would hold.
My husband and I were distressed by the uncertainty. Thankfully, we were able to hold Hudson and do skin-to-skin a few days after he was born. When the MRI finally confirmed a right-sided CDH with liver-up, we weren’t completely shocked because CDH had been discussed as a possibility during pregnancy. What scared us most was not knowing whether surgery would be necessary.
Later that day, we learned that surgery would be needed. That night, neither of us slept. The next day, at just one week and one day old, Hudson underwent surgery.
Knowing our tiny baby was being operated on was one of the hardest things we have ever had to process. We sat waiting—emotional, scared, and hopeful. When his surgeon finally came into the waiting room and told us everything had gone well, it was a moment I will never forget. It felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from our shoulders.
Over the next few weeks, we celebrated every milestone. Every little thing Hudson did and every day that passed felt like a small victory we would never take for granted.
Hudson spent 27 days in the hospital. During that time, one of us stayed with him every night while the other stayed with family nearby. The hardest part was not knowing when we would finally get to bring our son home.
What kept us going was the support of our family and friends and the belief that soon we would walk out of those hospital doors together as a family.
The day we were finally told Hudson would be discharged was the best day. Although we brought him home on oxygen and with an NG tube, nothing compared to the feeling of finally having him where he belonged. It wasn’t exactly the homecoming we had imagined, but it was ours, and we were so grateful. Our families were overjoyed to finally meet him.
Today, Hudson is 6 months old. He is off his NG tube, feeding beautifully on his own, and continues to make progress every day. He is happy, full of life, and stronger than we ever could have imagined.
Becoming Hudson’s parents has been the greatest gift of our lives. His journey has taught us that while the beginning may not always look the way you imagined, babies are incredibly resilient and things can get better.
We are forever grateful to the amazing doctors, nurses, and staff at SickKids who continue to care for Hudson and our family; to our family and friends who helped us through the hardest days; and, most importantly, to each other.
If sharing our story helps even one family facing a difficult diagnosis, I hope it reminds them that there can be positive outcomes. There can be hope. And there is nothing more inspiring than watching a tiny baby show you just how strong they truly are.
