We had moved to California from Utah on a whim in December of 2014 and decided that it was time to start growing our family. Everything had seemed like a fairy tale, until it turned into my nightmare.
I got pregnant quickly, had very few negative side effects besides some minor morning sickness, and according to the doctor at my 12 week appointment, everything looked wonderful with the baby. Like most first time moms, I was dying inside to find out our baby’s gender. I begged my sweet husband to go to a cheesy ultrasound place the day I was 14 weeks and he eventually relented. When we got into the room, the technician was looking around my belly and said she didn’t see anything because the baby was hiding. We left the room confused, but kind of brushed it off.

    I got a call from the Doctor 2 days later and he told me that I needed to go see a specialist as soon as possible because the tech saw something in the baby’s belly. I was scared, confused, and worried about my little baby. My doctor told me that there was nothing to worry about and that everything should be fine; he just wanted to do this appointment as a precaution. We were lucky enough to get an appointment two days later.

    May 1, 2015 was the worst day of my life. I went into the appointment with high hopes and left heartbroken. As I sat down in the specialist office with a huge screen in front of me, the tech started moving around my belly with her tool. All I could see on the screen was a big, gaping, black hole in the middle of my wiggling baby’s body. The technician said, “well, it’s a boy, but I need to go get the doctors.” My husband and I looked at each other and I just started crying.  We knew something was wrong. The doctors came in and told me that our baby had what was called Lower Urinary Tract Obstruction (LUTO). To put it simply, his urethra was blocked and he could not urinate, leading him to retain the amniotic fluid inside his bladder. They told us that there was nothing that could be done, and asked us if we preferred to perform an abortion there on the spot. We obviously said no. We asked if anything could be done, but the doctors responded that there had been some experimental treatment, but that they never had positive outcomes. Luckily, a front office employee saw how distraught I was and mentioned that she could get us a second opinion appointment from her old doctor’s office and that if anyone could do anything for our baby, he could.

    That’s just what we did. We had an appointment a week later with a surgeon who specializes in high risk and unusual pregnancies and complications. The week leading up to seeing the doctor was the hardest and most trying week of our lives. We prayed and we hoped and practiced a lot of patience. We hoped that there was something – anything – that could be done, even though the previous doctors told us there was nothing.

    A week went by and we went to our appointment with the specialist, who turns out to be one of the top doctors in the world (in this field). He told us that there was a tiny bit of hope, that there was something that could be done, but that the odds were not great for a good outcome. He sat us down and told us that there is a surgery, that can be done in utero, but that the baby had to go through and pass numerous tests in order to qualify. The baby would have to be in perfect health, with zero abnormalities for this surgery to be worth it in the end, and even if the baby did get the surgery, it could still have all different types of health problems after it was born. We didn’t care; we wanted to do anything we could to get this sweet baby here.

    We started all the testing. I would go in every week and get a needle in my belly, that went into the baby’s bladder, to drain the fluid for testing. After a month of these tests, the results came back and we had found out that the baby had qualified for surgery. I don’t think I have ever been happier than I was hearing that news. After a month of thinking I was going to lose my baby to now knowing that there was at least a little bit of hope, I was thrilled.

    Baby boy and I went in for surgery a couple days later (at 18 weeks) where the doctor went in through my stomach into the baby’s bladder and placed a pigtail looking coil to drain the bladder and replenish the necessary amniotic fluid. We were so happy with the surgery that I ignored the following soreness and discomfort.
A week after the surgery I started having light spotting and I was put on bed rest because I was having contractions.  I went back and forth to and from the ER for three weeks until my water broke. I just cried and cried and cried because I was only 22 weeks and I knew they wouldn’t do anything to help save the baby until 24 weeks. We sat in the hospital and had doctors all around us checking on the baby. But something that we all couldn’t figure out was why there was still fluid around the baby. By the standard care if your water breaks, you are advised to deliver your baby within 24 hours or else you have a high risk of infection. My doctor was out of town but the doctor that was on call told me that I had three options: 1. Deliver the baby naturally and he will not survive. 2. Have a D&E. 3. Wait it out, but have a high risk of getting an infection and never being able to have kids again (they strongly suggested that I not do this.) So they put me in a room because I was completely devastated after they told me this. How could this be happening to us? We had come so far.

    I decided that I really wanted to have a natural delivery because I felt so connected with my baby boy and I wanted to at least hold him and see him even though he wasn’t going to make it. The doctor came in and asked me what I wanted to do and I told her my choice, but then I asked her why there was so much fluid still around the baby. My sweet husband insisted that we call our doctor whom was out of town and tell him our situation. After waiting for him to land in New York City, they finally got a hold of him. The doctor explained to our surgeon what was happening and he wanted to talk to me and he sternly said, “Whatever you do, do not let them touch you. What I think has happened was when I did the surgery, the outer layer of your sac had a hole and it was leaking but your inner layer of your sac is still in tact. I want to keep you in the hospital for a couple days to monitor for infection and I want them to measure your amniotic fluid every 12 hours.” So that’s just what we did. The fluid looked fine. And I was able to go home…for a couple weeks. To this day, I’m convinced that this Dr. wasn’t sure there was anything going on beyond my water really being broken, but just wanted to buy us time and not have take our baby from us. I was still on strict bed rest in hopes that the fluid leaking would lessen as I lay down.
On the night of my 24th week at 1:00 am, I started bleeding bright red. We rushed to the hospital and I didn’t leave until my baby was born 5 weeks later. There were ups and downs in the hospital and times where they had to stop my contractions with magnesium.
Miraculously, on August 11, 2015 Nash Kimball Moyes was born at 29 weeks via C-section weighing 3 pounds 3 oz. and he was perfect in every way. We spent 9 ½ weeks in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.  There were good days and then there were bad days, as is apparently almost always the case in the NICU. Nash was able to get his surgery when he hit 4 pounds and they ended up not having to do much due to the catheters clearing the blocked tissues while they were relieving his full bladder in his incubator. When he was born we were told he also might never walk because of some spotting on his brain.
With my whole entire heart, I believe in the power of miracles because I saw countless in this time in my life and continue to see them everyday. The miracle of moving down to California and not knowing why. The miracle of going to get an ultrasound before my routine appointment, allowing us to catch the problem early. Finding our amazing doctor through a simple referral from a stranger, and being given hope and the opportunity to give our little guy the chance to fight. The biggest miracle of all, our baby boy being born safe and sound, and crossing one more hurdle off what was known as the impossible, taking his first steps.

    Nash is now almost 2 years old and is our miracle child. I like to call him my little fighter guy because that is just what he is. He is pure sunshine and he is walking (mostly running) and urinating like any boy would. He is a fighter and I couldn't be happier to be his mama.

 I’ll always be so grateful for this experience. Even though it was so difficult in the thick of it, I am glad I can look back and recognize all the blessings and miracles that occurred in our lives.
Our goal with this blog series is to help each of us to remember, we are not in this alone. We all need each other to help educate us, lift us up, and inspire us to push through the ups and downs of parenthood. If you have a story you'd like to share, please email us at

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  • Thanks for sharing, I’m a pediatric RN so I love hearing stories about little babes similar to ones I care for here in Seattle with positive outcomes. I just won your little nursery reveal giveaway and my 3rd babe just turned 1 as well :).

    Abby on

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