Maryiana Zavedeeva

For my son Rostislav

My son was born on May 1, 2012. Unfortunately, during labor, he had a double nuchal cord that wasn’t removed in time. He was born without a heartbeat and without breath. The doctors managed to restart his heart and placed him on a ventilator, and on May 7, 2012, he began to breathe on his own. However, the brain damage was so severe that he could never live a full, independent life.

From the very beginning, I had to fight not only for my son’s life, but also against the system. I was under constant pressure from the state and medical authorities, who tried to push me to give him up, to abandon him, to “let go.” But not for a single moment did such a thought cross my mind. I knew I would lose my sanity if I allowed myself to live knowing that somewhere my child existed — quietly suffering, slowly dying — without me by his side. I had no right to give up. I had no right to break.

He lived for one year and eight months. Because he could not swallow on his own, I learned to feed him through a feeding tube myself. I studied, practiced, overcame fear, and took full responsibility for his care. I purchased all the necessary medical equipment so he could live at home, surrounded by love, warmth, and my constant presence — not confined to hospital walls. I wanted his life, no matter how short, to be filled with familiarity, comfort, and dignity.

During that time, he suffered from seizures and endless medical challenges, but as his mother, I did everything in my power to support him and make his life as gentle, safe, and loving as possible. Those months were unimaginably difficult, filled with exhaustion, fear, and pain — but also with meaning. The happiness lived in small moments: when he felt my presence, when he calmed down in my arms, when he tried to smile or show even the slightest sign of emotion. Even though he couldn’t fully express himself, I knew when he felt me.

I do not regret a single decision I made. Not one. I am endlessly proud of my little fighter — my son — who never gave up and fought every single second of his life. His strength amazes me even now. I fought for him because he fought to stay. And I would do it all over again without hesitation.

On January 22, 2014, his heart stopped beating. But those one year and eight months will never be erased. They live on in my memory as years of struggle, immeasurable feminine strength, unconditional love, and an unbreakable bond between a mother and her child. I miss him every second of my life. I have loved him, I love him, and I will love him forever. He holds an enormous place in my heart — and always will.