My daughter will live

For a long time I could not decide to write everything. I know that we need to talk. But I'm still afraid that I will be deemed crazy.

A year ago, my third baby was born. My joy, my hope and faith are my youngest daughter. When my term was very small, my daughter was diagnosed with congenital malformation of the kidneys. All would be fine, but my middle daughter has the same diagnosis. Only an average daughter has a healthy kidney. And the younger one is affected by both kidneys. I knew what it was. The forecast for life is a maximum of four months. I went crazy with fear, I tried to get an abortion. But the time was great, and they refused me. I lived in horror. I had no idea how I would bring the dying child home, where two children would look at the whole nightmare. I did not sleep, did not eat. I was scared. Newborn children do not dialysis. And a transplant is also impossible. Solid hell. What is hell? Hell is not pain, hell is fear.

There is nothing sinister and more merciless than fear. But no matter how I was afraid of childbirth, the moment has come. I went to the hospital in advance, as it was in early January. Yes, and doctors insisted on early hospitalization because of my mental condition. They imposed me daily consultations with a psychologist.

Nothing this psychologist helped me. Even worse made. Day after day she tried to make me believe in my madness from fear. I tried to solve the problem logically. But there was no logical solution. The option to leave the child in the hospital I could not take. The last straw the day before the birth was the attempt of a girl from the next ward to open her veins.

There, too, everything was bad. The child was not born yet, but was already with oncology. She was quickly found and transferred to resuscitation. Something clicked in my head. Here it is, a logical decision. There is no me, there is no child - there is no problem! Probably, I will never forgive myself these thoughts and what I later did.

I cried for hours till two in the morning. Then she took the sheet and tore it up. I wanted to hang myself. I could not live in this hell anymore. I went down to the basement of the hospital. In the same place there are pipes, will be where to hook a loop. I entered the terribly creaking door. I looked around, I was sure that there was no one there. I found a convenient place, but I could not get it, I needed a chair. But where are the chairs in the basement? I began to look for what could be replaced by this chair. I found some buckets and boxes. I built myself a scaffold.

And so, when I had already put my head in the noose, I saw twenty steps from myself of a woman on her knees. She squeezed her throat with her hands and seemed to cough, whispering with her lips: "Stop, help." She had a plush braid of blond hair and a noticeable birthmark under her left eye. And I noticed a hairpin, or a scallop of yellow metal with three green stones. I got such a panic. I do not want to live here, but this woman is bad! Maybe she has asthma? It is necessary to help.

While I cautiously descended from my structure (still even a suicidal pregnant woman remains primarily a pregnant woman), I look up - and there's no one there! And no one came out! The door creaked so that even on the fourth floor it was audible. What's happening to me, I will not even describe. I can not convey the horror, shame, resentment in simple words. This must be experienced, but I do not wish to experience such a thing. She ran into the ward. Neighbors noticed that I was not, and they told the nurse. In general, they calculated me and what I wanted to do.

In the morning I began to stimulate childbirth. And I was all crying from impotence and resentment. Only one question was in my head: "How long will my daughter live?" When I was given an epidural, the pain receded, and I fell asleep. Then I had a strange dream. I saw the same woman that I saw in the basement. True, she was a deep old woman. I sat in a large armchair and was dead! Nearby stood four men. They were crying. The youngest of them cried loudest. And then it dawned upon me that these were her sons. The eldest of them said: "Yes, my mother was 93 years old, but still she could have lived!" I began to look at this woman: the same smart, but already gray braid, the same comb with green stones ...

I woke up from the bell ringing. The windows of my ancestral garden overlooked the main temple of the region. And a terrible pain from attempts. My daughter was born under the bell ringing of the Mass ... Then I came to myself. I thought that maybe I really went crazy. First an attempt to kill yourself and the child, then hallucinations, then dreams with dead old women. My daughter was examined. The diagnosis was confirmed and the forecasts too. I took her home. At the first opportunity, I went to church to talk with my father. I did not want to believe that I really lost my reason.

Previously, I was not that an atheist, it was just ridiculous for me to look at the insincere prayers in the church. And during the third pregnancy, I almost every day went to the temple and prayed to God that he would spare my child from anguish. Spared and did not let her suffer for too long. Father looked at me and reassured me. He said that we suppose, but God disposes. I told him what I wanted to do with myself. She told about the woman in the cellar, about the strange dream before the very appearance of her daughter. To all this he said: "Demons do not come under the bell ringing. Do not come pull out of the loop. On the contrary, they will tighten it. "

Everything cleared up for me, when for half my father brought as a gift to his granddaughter a gold hairpin ... With three large jades. When I saw this hairpin, my legs were numb. This is my daughter was in the basement! She asked for mercy! She let me know that she will live very long and she will have children!

And a week ago I noticed a tiny mole ...

Under the left eye. Now we are a year old. We live on one kidney. It is far from perfect, but we live. And we will live. I passed my hell. Now ahead of the struggle for life. I already have hope that my girl will live ... That the Lord spared her and gave her a chance to be. And I, too, have a chance to gain faith.