Women are not unicorns

I didn't suffer.

The guys were grieving. But let me tell you, they are tough nuts to crack too. They can't be broken.

I saw them a month after the tragedy and didn’t recognize them. They joked and laughed, hugged and supported each other. Drugs, antidepressants, psychologist, alcohol, hypnosis, mutual madness? Nothing out of this. The guys suffered their due and moved on, hand in hand, only forward, not knowing fear and sadness.

This is how I see the right attitude towards life. Don't be a victim. Cry it all out and move on with your life.

Are there worse situations?

Oh yeah.

I delivered a baby (when I was in medical practice) from a woman who knew that the baby was dead.

She was informed that due to toxoplasmosis (an infection transmitted mainly from cats), the baby died in her womb right before giving birth.

She was persuaded not to stitch the uterus by Caesarean Section, but to give birth herself.

Give birth to a corpse yourself!

Can you imagine?

This is some kind of trash.

For three days they induced her, dilated her cervix, and prepared her for spontaneous childbirth.

She was experiencing contractions, quite normal labor, but she knew that there would be no gift after permission.

Did this woman cry when we delivered the fetus? No. Not anymore. She felt worse. Mental pain tore her apart from the inside. She was also ashamed in front of the staff. She considered herself an impostor, wasting the resources of public health care, because she was not giving anyone to the world. We tried to encourage her that this is our job, life does not end here, she will still give birth to a healthy baby.

I don’t know what happened to this woman later. Apparently she recovered. I hope, I want to believe in it. If you are reading my book, dear patient of the Petrozavodsk perinatal center, then know that I sincerely regret your loss, and you can also write to me — now I know more ways to cope with mental suffering than before. Then, alas, I could not help you.

Working together with a neurologist, I saw different children: cerebral palsy, autism, microcephaly, and so on. These diagnoses are tied to mother and child for life, and only they know what it really feels like.

I can only give confirmation of your courage. And wish you never stop loving your children, caring for them and protecting them.

I once decided for myself that it would be better to never experience the joy of motherhood than to give birth to a sick child. Forgive me for my words, but I openly declare this, without hiding anything from you, without hiding anything, because we must be honest with each other.

Therefore, finishing this chapter, I am revealed to you, you can judge me. But this is the final decision for now. Sorry, Mr. President, but I will not fulfill the government order if I think that I have a risk of giving birth to an unhealthy child.

So far, my plans do not even include testing this hypothesis. I already wrote above that I want to realize myself first. I plan to achieve my big goals before I become a mother.

And if this drags on for years, and my fertility comes to an end, then alas, then there will be no children in this life, just me and you, and my love for you.

Besides, I'm lying a little. I already have a “child”. My nephew. When, at the age of thirteen, I found out that my sister was pregnant, it seemed to me that this was the greatest happiness in the world. We lived together then, she gave birth without a husband, and I fell in love with this baby. After school, I ran home to my pregnant sister, we walked for hours, I sewed hats, rompers and knitted booties. It seems to me that I already decided that this was my child and I still think so. I've invested a lot in this guy. He is nineteen, he is handsome, smart, kind, incredibly talented, but he just doesn’t know it yet. So yes, I already have a child that I didn’t give birth to, but we are very close. By the way, I was named his godmother, so dear Sir, I already shot, just in case.

“Existential crisis — I haven’t achieved anything in my life.”

On the third of October last year I met an attractive man. Blogger, handsome and incredibly charismatic guy.

No, you misunderstood, no flirting, only admiration as a person.

He told an interesting story about his life, he is thirty-three and a couple of years ago his life changed dramatically. He was an advanced photographer, even a bigwig in the modeling business, and everything was going pretty well, the money was flowing like a river, until one day he and his partner were pinned against the wall by guys with pistols, and it was all over.

The guys went in different directions and sat quietly until everything calmed down. Money, influence, a beautiful life instantly turned into a reclusive life at parental expense.

— Did you like your life?

— Despite all the luxury, no.

— Why?

— I have not self-actualized.

— What about photography? You were creative, weren't you?