I never really thought about the fact that babies could be born too soon. I thought that prematurity was something that was unfortunate, but rare. I never imagined I’d be volunteering with the March of Dimes and become an Ambassador Mom—until Ricky.

Seeing his heartbeat for the very first time on the monitor, feeling the first flutter of movement, watching him move all around during his ultrasound, putting my hand on my belly to feel him kick—these were all the typical “mom-to-be” experiences I had in the first months of my son’s growing life.

Then around 6 months upon an exam due to spotting, I was told by my doctor that I was dilated 2 cm and in preterm labor. I was shocked and very scared.

I went immediately to the hospital and was hooked up to monitors. That evening I went into full labor, dilating further. Ricky was only 23 weeks gestation. Chances were if I delivered then, he wouldn’t survive. But by the next morning, medications had worked to stop the labor. I was still pregnant, but Ricky’s life hung in the balance.

Our goal was to get Ricky to 28 weeks when his chances of survival would be greater. Strict bedrest in the hospital for the duration of my pregnancy was a small price to pay to deliver a healthy baby in the end.

Over the next month, Ricky and I spent all of our time bonding. I read him stories, sang to him, talked to him and hugged my belly lovingly. Every night he would lull me to sleep by wiggling his tiny toes under my ribs.

Everything was going well until, at 27 weeks, an infection started the labor all over again. Ricky was born via emergency c-section on June 16, 2002. He was 2 pounds, 12 ounces, and 14 inches long. He was born too soon—and very sick.

That evening Ricky was rushed to Children’s Hospital in Philadelphia while I stayed in the hospital where he was born. My son lay in another hospital, fighting for his life, and my dream of motherhood.

By the next evening, I left the hospital to go and be with my son. I knew after talking with his doctors that Ricky was dying.

I spent three hours with my son, caressing his curly hair, holding his tiny hand, wiping my tears from his soft cheeks.

Just before midnight, Ricky’s vitals became very unstable. The nurses unhooked the tubes and gave him to me to hold. Then my son, my only child, died in my arms.

I have made a promise to my son—a promise that his brief but powerful life will have meaning. Through all that I do in working with the March of Dimes, I will create Ricky’s legacy.

Not all premature babies live. The March of Dimes is working diligently to find ways to prevent and treat preterm labor. Together, we’re working hard to make sure that in the future, all moms have a chance to bring their healthy, full-term babies home.

Patricia Obst
Turnersville, NJ