Back in 1998, we thought life was stressful so we thought. I was seven months pregnant and on bed rest as they weren't sure exactly what was going on with my pregnancy.

I went to one of my typical doctor's appointments that I went to twice a week. They took my blood pressure and the next thing I knew I was in an ambulance on my way to Legacy Emanuel Hospital. I sat in ICU for five days. On the fifth day I had a seizure, had emergency blood work and then delivered my first child, Austin, all within an hour. My blood work indicated I was on a path to death. My liver was malfunctioning due to a very serious pregnancy disease called HELLP Syndrome. Austin was born weighing 3 lbs! He is now a healthy, thriving six year old.

It took us two years to even think about having another child. We met with a team of doctors that were confident we could get through another pregnancy successfully. HELLP Syndrome is very serious, but this time around we would be looking for it. They knew I would most likely not go to full term – but, our goal was 34-36 weeks. It took us another three years to make the final decision to expand our family to our dream of two children. That's when we really started to understand what stress was.

This second pregnancy was different from the start. Everything seemed to be going wrong, yet nothing even similar to my first pregnancy. The doctors talked about the consideration of needing to terminate the pregnancy twice. I had an amniocentesis to rule out a high percentage of the likelihood of Downs Syndrome and/or other chromosomal issues. The baby stopped growing completely for three weeks and then just started growing again. The doctors were stumped and could not give us any reassurance that the end result was going to be okay.

It was at week 28 that everything went awry. At one of my bi-weekly appointments, the ultrasound had the doctors concerned about my child's well-being. And once again, I was admitted into the hospital. Now, I was showing reverse diastolic flow (blood flow through the umbilical cord). "Your baby is in serious danger, and he has a much better chance of surviving on the outside than he does on the inside", the doctors said. I heard that same phrase repeated by seven different doctors. "NO, he is too small, too young! I know what can happen to babies that small!" I said. It was a horrible decision, but one I knew my husband and I had to make.

On April 18th, Cooper H. Wright was born by C-Section weighing 1 lb 6 ozs on the first day of my 29th week. They prepped us for the worst. Brain bleeds, heart surgeries, intestinal surgeries, eye issues including blindness, and on an on. All were very real possibilities.

In the NICU, my little one pound baby—completely fragile, yet incredibly strong—fought with every breath, every minute of every day. Touching him took energy away from him and could put his life at risk, so I didn't hold him for the first 10 days of his life. I will never forget day 10. Holding such a tiny, fragile and yet powerful being in my hands was an indescribable feeling.

For three, long months, we would visit him every day and night while keeping Austin's life as normal as possible. Cooper was released on his due date, July 4th, weighing 5 lbs 10 ozs. We celebrated much more than our nation's freedom that day. Amazingly, Cooper didn't have any surgeries and came home with no monitors or life long effects. Eight less fortunate babies died during Cooper's stay in the NICU.

We know we are lucky and fortunate to have two healthy children thanks in part to the great work of the March of Dimes. Our family has been involved with the March of Dimes for many years. Austin was the Ambassador for two years, and I've led my company's team with an aggressive campaign that has raised over $200,000.

I now have two miracles—Austin and Cooper—but, not everyone is so lucky. We must find a way to prevent premature births. No baby should be born too small, and no baby should have to fight that hard.