“My baby is inside an incubator machine—1122 has it. Look how peacefully the baby is resting, as if in a mother’s womb.”
For parents like Mr. Ram Chand, who had already lost three premature children, these words are more than relief—they are hope, a moment where fear meets lifesaving care. Babies are the only people who can completely ignore a deadline and still be celebrated. Some arrive on cue, some keep everyone waiting, and some show up weeks too early—before anyone has even packed a hospital bag.
World Prematurity Day, observed on 17 November, is about these early arrivals—babies born before 37 weeks of pregnancy, whose first challenge in life is simply to survive. Globally, 13–15 million babies are born prematurely each year, roughly one in every ten births. Complications from prematurity remain the leading cause of death among children under five, claiming nearly one million lives annually.
Behind every number is a parent who expected to learn how to swaddle and burp a baby, not read monitors or discuss oxygen saturation.
In Sindh, prematurity is not rare—it lies at the very heart of newborn survival. In 2023 alone, hundreds of thousands of babies were born prematurely, many facing life-threatening complications. According to UNICEF, Pakistan has one of the highest rates of preterm birth and neonatal deaths in the world. In 2024, over 700 newborns die each day, with more than 15% of these deaths linked to complications from prematurity.
For families in Sindh, survival often depends not just on care inside a neonatal unit, but on whether the system around the baby can respond quickly: from home to a local health facility, from a smaller hospital to a better-equipped centre, from panic to organised care. On paper, it’s policy and strategy. On the ground, it’s one SIEHS incubator ambulance, one trained team, one family, and one tiny patient fighting for life.
On 11 July, SIEHS Command and Control Centre received a call from a father whose voice carried more fear than words. His premature newborn needed to be transferred from Old DHQ Mirpurkhas to Hyderabad. On a map, it was a short route—but for that family, it felt impossible.
When EMT Fahad assessed the baby, one thing was immediately clear: the newborn was too fragile to survive the road without an incubator.
An incubator was brought in. The baby was carefully stabilised. Then the journey began. Inside the ambulance, Fahad watched the tiny chest rise and fall under the soft glow of the incubator.
For the father, Mr. Ram Chand, the sight was almost unreal. He had already lost three premature children. Seeing his newborn resting inside the incubator, he whispered in awe and relief:
In that moment, faith and clinical care were not in competition—they were holding the same fragile life from different sides. A journey that began in fear ended in quiet relief, stitched together by a father’s hope, a team’s determination, and the right equipment at the right time.
Stories like this never appear in global graphs—but they are exactly what those numbers are made of.
One of the most important messages of World Prematurity Day is that many lifesaving interventions for preterm babies are simple, affordable, and already known. The real challenge is using them consistently.
Kangaroo Mother Care (KMC) is a perfect example. It involves prolonged skin-to-skin contact between a caregiver and the baby, along with breastfeeding support. Studies show KMC can reduce deaths among preterm and low birth weight infants by around a third, lower the risk of hypothermia and infections, and improve long-term growth and development.
The beauty of KMC is that it is both clinical and deeply human. Parents who might otherwise stand helplessly outside an incubator become central to their child’s care. Their warmth, heartbeat, and presence are not “emotional support”—they are part of the treatment.
Of course, KMC does not replace neonatal units, antibiotics, oxygen, or respiratory support. Babies with breathing problems, infections, or other complications still need specialised care. But it is a reminder that saving lives is not always about the newest machine—it’s about doing the basics early, correctly, and with respect for families.
Prematurity sits at the crossroads of obstetrics, neonatology, emergency medicine, and public health. In practice, it shows up in everyday decisions:
Between “too soon” and “too late,” there is a narrow window where action can change everything. That window is filled with choices—by families, frontline workers, dispatchers, drivers, nurses, and doctors. When those decisions go right, we get stories like the Mirpurkhas transfer. When they don’t, another loss disappears into the statistics.
Emergency systems and telehealth quietly sit in this gap. A simple, well-known number to call in a crisis, clear referral pathways, and access to doctor-led advice before things worsen can turn confusion into a plan.
If you are experiencing warning signs in pregnancy—severe headache, blurred vision, bleeding, leaking fluid, or strong pains—treat them seriously.
If a newborn is feeding poorly, breathing too fast, unusually cold or hot, or behaving differently than yesterday, do not wait. Waiting is not neutral when every breath and gram counts.
For urgent maternal or newborn emergencies, dial 1122.For medical guidance and counselling, call Tele-Tabeeb at 1123.
Small and preterm babies may start life on the edge—but their lives deserve the full strength of the system built around them.
