It's often the most random of things that come full circle. I remember vividly my childhood in the '70s, jorts and all (that's jean shorts for those who didn't dress ridiculously as a child), and my family's participation in March of Dimes Walk-a-thons. At that age, I had no real idea what I was walking for. Dimes, I guessed. In reality those walks 30 years ago paved the way for the construction of a series of regional Neonatal Intensive Care Units (NICUs). Those same NICUs would help save my son's life in 2000. It's obvious now that whether I knew it or not I was walking for much more than just dimes.

My wife Kristi got pregnant in July 1999. We had been trying to conceive for quite a while and so were overjoyed at our good fortune. Being right on top of things, Kristi began her prenatal care, vitamins and all. We went in for ultrasounds, not worrying too much when we heard the one comment of how small our son-to-be, Nick, appeared. Nobody else seemed worried and as a parent-to-be you never think worst-case scenarios about your child. You just can't.

Like most premature birth situations, the pregnancy went along in the normal fashion for quite some time. But then, around week 30, Kristi started experiencing some unusual swelling. Diagnosed with preeclampsia, she was immediately hospitalized to try to get her blood pressure down. Although that was scary, an ultrasound indicated that Nick seemed to be stable and his weight was estimated to be 3 lbs, which was good for the situation. Kristi's doctor, Dr. Margaret Cohen, showed great foresight with her treatment and in preparing us for Nick's early arrival. The plan was to put Kristi on bed rest and to try and stretch the pregnancy to the 35th week.

It was then a frantic week of learning all we could about premature birth followed by a check up on Thursday, Feb. 17, 2000. To our great relief were told that all the results were positive: fetal movement counts and vital statistics were within acceptable ranges and Kristi's blood pressure was lower.

But then things began to come full circle.

After a sleepless night spent monitoring falling fetal movement counts, Kristi was admitted to Good Samaritan Hospital and immediately put on monitoring devices. As she had minor contractions Nick's vitals would dip. The medical staff started her on drugs to calm the contractions and decided she and Nick were stable enough to move to Emanuel Hospital, due to the greater expertise available with the NICU. Did I mention that things come full circle?

At Emanuel the staff decided Nick would have the best chance at living if Kristi immediately gave birth. I was rushed to the NICU for a brief tour while my wife was made ready for the Caesarean delivery–we barely even had time to be afraid.

Nick was born at 8:10 pm on Feb. 18, 2000. He was a touch more than eight weeks early. Imagine our shock, expecting to see a 3 lb. baby with a good chance at breathing on his own, when Nick came into this world 1 lb. 14 oz and 14" long.

There are certain agonies no one should have to endure. There are limits to patience. I can honestly say that watching your son rushed away to be placed on a ventilator was the first in a series of events that tested the boundaries of both. During his stay in the NICU my son endured the emergence of a birth defect, jaundice, anemia, and intraventricular hemorrhages, to name a few. He had to lay under special lights with his eyes covered for three days to help process the bilirubin from his system. I had to witness an episode of his recurring apenia–where he would stop breathing for an extended period of time–and watch as the nurse showed me how to revive my own son. We were there at the hospital constantly, eagerly awaiting the 15 minutes every three hours when we were allowed to change his diaper and help provide his care. He was almost two weeks old before we were able to hold him for more than a few minutes. And yes, that's my wedding ring you see around his arm in the picture on the "Who We Help" page.

It was in the NICU that he continued with various treatments. One in particular was the administration of surfactants to help keep the lungs inflated. The surfactant treatments were developed through March of Dimes-sponsored research in 1990 and reduced the occurrence of infant death from respiratory distress by more than 60%. Here we were with the March of Dimes, beginning with my steps in the early '70s and coming full circle to help save Nick's life.

Nick, like other premature babies, is by nature a fighter. He was allowed to come home after six weeks, weighing in at 3-lbs. 7 oz, or what we had expected him to weigh at birth. If I had to go up against Nick in a never-ending Walk-a-thon, my money's on Nick.

Nick has gone through developmental follow-up sessions at Emanuel with the pediatric development team, feeding clinics at Doernbecher and several operations and exams since his discharge. As much as I trusted the medical staff that has cared for him so well, life just stopped every time he was wheeled into surgery.

Today, Nick is a happy, healthy five-year-old. He's still small for his age, but his motor skills and mental acuity are quite good and his hearing and eyesight are excellent. We were thrilled last month when he finally reached the bottom of the height curve for his age for the first time in his life. He's starting to read, he remembers everything you say, he's got a wonderfully sweet personality, and is a terrific older brother.

I know my decision to take some steps years ago was just one small act, but it proves that even the smallest act can manifest itself into the largest of benefits. Thanks to the research and programs supported by the March of Dimes my son is alive, taking the same steps with me and Kristi that I took with my family. And with every dime we, and others through actions like Project LifeSail, are able to raise, we ensure that not everything in life will have to come full circle.