A pair of men’s leather shoes, a 1-quart carton of milk and a small pineapple – these all weigh two pounds, not that I’d thought about it before Oct. 23, 2021. That’s the day my daughter, Poppy, was born, before I even reached the third trimester. She weighed just 2 pounds, 9 ounces — a decent-sized pineapple, but precious little for a person.

Among concerns like potential brain bleeds and heart holes (she had two), respiratory distress was up there as a top worry. She should have had 13 more weeks in utero for her lungs to develop and allow her to breathe on her own. Once a baby gets closer to full term, lungs start to develop a type of surfactant that helps keep tiny air sacs open instead of sticking together. Imagine trying to pull apart two pieces of plastic wrap. They stick tight and are hard to separate. Lung surfactant is like a thin coat of wax that keeps them from sticking together.

When it was clear my daughter’s arrival was imminent, doctors gave me a steroid shot to help mature her lungs. The injection helps speed up the creation of surfactant and reduce severe complications like respiratory distress syndrome. March of Dimes, a nonprofit committed to ending preventable preterm birth and infant death, was instrumental in the research that led to this protocol, something that is now considered standard care to improve the odds of living for babies born prematurely.

Thanks in part to this life-saving research and treatment, Poppy is now almost 4 years old. She will only wear dresses that twirl. She pushes her little brother Charlie around in a stroller made for dolls, and she can recite her favorite book (Feminist Baby) from memory.

Poppy on stage at the March of Dimes fundraiser

Last month, she stood on stage at a March of Dimes fundraiser held to raise money for the Texas Prematurity Research Center, the nonprofit’s sixth research center (but first in Texas) created to conduct groundbreaking research that will lead to fewer preterm births. Like many fields of research, prematurity science depends on continued investment. For me, two pounds is not just a weight — it is a reminder of the importance of investing in science that saves lives.