I was in work on a Tuesday around 4:45 p.m. when these sharp terrible pains where shooting across my lower abdomen. I actually crossed my legs a couple of times. After about 10 minutes of this, I called my doctor, and very calmly he said, "You're in labor. Go home and drink lots of liquid for one hour. If you're still in pain go to the hospital."

At the time I lived alone, so I went to my parents' house instead. My mother was shocked to see me. I was supposed to work until 8 p.m. that night. I explained what was going on and said I would be fine. My mother was battling cancer at the time, so I tried to act like I was feeling better.

I did call my sister who is a pro at pregnancy and giving birth – she has three wonderful children. My sister picked me up around 6:30 p.m. and off we were to the hospital. I went in to the maternity ward area and approached the nurse at the desk and explained why I was there. About one minute later I was lying in a hospital bed, and they were strapping a belly monitor on me.

Finally everything was hooked up and I had about five people around me saying, "Could it be the monitor? Let's try another monitor." I was saying, "What's going on?" and they told me my baby's heart rate was a little too fast, 256 beats per minute to be exact. A baby's heart rate should be between 80 to 120 beats per minute.

We tried another monitor. "Ready to turn it on?" said the one nurse. "Here goes." Oh no, I thought. It's still high.

Now a lot of doctors were coming in. They said I could have an infection, so they ran what seemed like a hundred blood tests. They were all normal. The internal showed I was 1 1/2 centimeters dilated. I was told just to be on the safe side let's do an amniocentesis. The doctors left the room to get ready for the procedure.

By now my entire family was at the hospital, and only one at a time was allowed in the room. My mother was lying in a chair across the room. She had chemo that same day.

When the doctors came back in, the one doctor said, "We're not going to do the amnio." I thought Thank God, but then he said, "We're going to have to take the baby by emergency Cesarean section."

I think I was in complete shock, and I just heard my mother say, "Oh dear God" in a crying voice. I asked if my entire family could come in the room before they took me into surgery. While I lay in the hospital bed in complete shock, we all held hands and said a prayer.

The nurse came in and said, "We have to go now." They wheeled me down the hall. As I turned around I could see my sister following. They agreed to let her watch through the little operating room window.

I don't know if I was shaking because I was nervous, freezing from the antiseptic, or a little embarrassed because I was completely naked in front of maybe 25 people or more. I counted backwards, and before I knew it I was awake. "Where's my baby," I mumbled. A nurse said he, yes, he, is in the neonatal intensive care unit, so the doctors can keep an eye on him.

I then moved to the recovery room where my family and friends from work could come in one at a time. They said they could see him in the NICU through the mini blinds. They said he was beautiful. A nurse said that a grandparent could go in and see him, so my mother went. If I could have anyone in my family see my son before I did I would want it to be my mother.

My mom came to see me after she saw him. She said, "He is beautiful. He has hair; his skin is perfect; he is just perfect."

Hours later after they got me settled in a room I was finally allowed to see Ethan Thomas Baker, and my mom was right – he was just perfect.

The next day doctors started to come in to give me updates on Ethan. He was going to be transferred because they could not get his heart rate under control. He had what is called SVT (supraventricular tachycardia). He was going to A.I. Dupont hospital in Delaware where he could get better care for his heart.

I was told the transport team had arrived at the hospital and it was almost time to go. I was wheeled into the NICU, and the transport team lined up in single file while my son was baptized. They let my sister Megan in because she is the godmother. I asked Megan's husband, Steve, to be the godfather over the phone. He couldn't be present. He had to work.

After the baptism and a lot of tears they got my beautiful son ready to go on his first journey. About 18 hours later I was on the road to go to Delaware for the first time.

We arrived at the Ronald McDonald house first to drop what little clothes I had with me. We then went to the hospital. I couldn't hold my son for a few days because of the belly lines and the ventilator. But it was well worth the wait.

Five weeks later, after finding the right heart medication for Ethan, we were back to Frankford Torresdale hospital in Philadelphia, where I was told now we have to let him grow since we got his SVT under control.

I followed the ambulance back. I still hadn't been to my house since that Tuesday morning before I went to work. I didn't want to go home either, so I stayed at my sister's for a couple of days. I then decided it was time to go home to get the baby's room ready. After all, he was a little early.

On March 26, 2003, 56 days later, my son was finally coming home. Well, actually we went to my parents' house for a couple of days. My parents were great. They had the oxygen tank delivered, the back room all cleared out for me and Ethan and huge smiles on there face when we walked through the door.

We had lots of visitors. Anyone in school or who worked around children had to wear a mask so Ethan wouldn't catch any germs.

I decided it was time for Ethan and I to go to our own house and start our lives together. I had all his medication, all his clothes, bottles, his oxygen and my breast pump all packed up and ready to go. I think my mom may have been crying, although she knew it was time to go home. Doctors appointments and trips to the pharmacy were all we had to look forward to. Ethan wasn't allowed out in public for three months.

I think it's time to wrap up our story; I've said enough. We still see plenty of doctors for SVT, asthma and BPD. Ethan is just fine. He had an unsuccessful cardiac catheter done in May of 2004, but that's OK, they'll get it when he's a teenager. His medication controls the SVT for now.

Let me just tell you the point of this story. If I hadn't gone into preterm labor Ethan would have gone into congestive heart failure. Ethan is my life now. He is 3 years old and has the biggest heart out of anyone I know. I'm glad my mother got to meet Ethan. She passed away when he was 9 months old.

Ethan, this is how your journey began,
Love, Mommy