Every day, every single minute, parents of seriously ill children live in a world where fear never truly leaves. They pray for the pain to stop, for the tears to dry, for the moments of panic to finally fade. For the parents of 7-year-old Anastasia Feschenko, this has been their reality for far too long — a reality shaped not by choice, but by a devastating illness that stole their daughter’s childhood before she even understood what childhood meant.

And yet, amid this darkness, a glimmer of hope appeared. Through the kindness of hundreds of people who refused to look away, Anastasia was able to receive treatment in one of the best clinics in the world. Doctors in Barcelona fought to save her life — and they succeeded. Today, Anastasia is still here, still fighting, still dreaming. But her journey is far from over. In many ways, the hardest part is only beginning.

For a child as medically fragile as Anastasia, rehabilitation is not an optional step. It is the very foundation of her survival. From the earliest days of her treatment, specialists stressed that rehabilitation must be continuous, carefully tailored, and never interrupted. Every day matters. Every session shapes her chances. Every moment of progress is precious.

Nastia — as her family lovingly calls her — has only one dream: to live. Not to travel the world, not to become a singer or a dancer or a pilot. She simply wants the chance to grow up, to play, to breathe freely without machines, to experience days that are not overshadowed by pain. That is the pure, simple dream of a 7-year-old girl who has spent more time in hospitals than playgrounds.

For over a year now, Anastasia has been undergoing daily rehabilitation. These sessions help strengthen her weakened muscles and maintain what little mobility her body still allows. Thanks to the dedication of doctors and therapists — and the generosity of people who believed in her — the Institute in Barcelona was able to order a special diaphragmatic pacemaker for her. This device gave doctors hope that her lungs could eventually function again.

There was even an attempt at lung surgery. A moment filled with prayer, trembling hands, and the fragile promise of a new beginning. But when the surgery began, it became heartbreakingly clear that Anastasia’s tiny body was not yet ready. Her lungs were too weak. She could not breathe on her own.

That failure was not the end. It was simply a sign of how much more support she needs. It was a reminder that the road ahead is long, difficult, and impossibly fragile — a road that cannot be walked alone.

This is why her rehabilitation cannot stop. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever, unless she has fully recovered. If her therapy is interrupted, even briefly, the progress she has fought so hard to achieve may be lost. The disease has already taken so much from her — her strength, her freedom, her innocence. But it has not yet taken her future. And together, we can make sure it never does.

Her parents speak softly when they tell their story, as if afraid that even their words might somehow break what remains of their daughter’s strength. They never wanted to ask for help again. They never wanted to turn to the world with open hands and trembling hearts. But life has left them no choice.

The cost of rehabilitation, medical equipment, medications, and continuous care is overwhelming. Every week brings new bills, new worries, new decisions no parent should ever have to make. And so, once again, they ask — not for themselves, but for the little girl who has already shown more courage than most of us will ever know.

Even the smallest donation can help keep her treatment going. Even a single share can bring this story to someone who can make a difference. Saving a child’s life is never the responsibility of one person alone — it is something the world must do together.

So today, Anastasia’s parents ask you for just one moment of your time. One moment to read her story. One moment to care. One moment to help save a wonderful, brave little girl who still has so much life waiting for her.

Please, if you can, help keep Anastasia’s hope alive.

—With gratitude,
Her parents