Pain gripped my entire body that day. During my pregnancy, my joints ached so severely that I could barely move, and my liver was failing. I had to leave my two older sons at home and rush to the hospital. The doctors tried everything to maintain the pregnancy, but it was no use. The next day, Nadia was born—premature, tiny, and fragile—and everything I had hoped for as a mother changed in an instant.

From the very first moments, she was in danger. Unlike her older brother, Nadia scored only a 4 on the Apgar scale. She struggled to breathe. She took one fragile breath, then another, and then began to choke. My heart shattered. I could not hold her; I could not feel her warmth. She was placed in an incubator in a separate room while I remained on an IV to treat my own severe health issues. Those first days were unbearable. I would visit her three times a day, and each visit tore me apart. Every moment I couldn’t hold her, every tiny struggle she endured, felt like a knife cutting through me.

It wasn’t until the fifth day that I could finally hold my little girl. I felt her warmth, her small heart beating against mine. But the relief was short-lived. Immediately after, Nadia had to undergo an emergency appendectomy, which led to peritonitis. I didn’t know if she would survive. My mind raced with terrifying questions: Would she eat? Would she grow? Would she live? Every procedure, every medical intervention, pushed her tiny body to its limit—and mine as well.

After a brief hospital discharge, I dared to hope. I dreamed of cuddling my daughter at home, watching her smile, and finally feeling a sense of peace. But that hope was short-lived. In her third week of life, Nadia was hospitalized again, this time with sepsis and a severe stomach infection. Doctors warned us that she might not survive another day. It felt like the world had stopped. Yet, despite everything, my brave little girl endured. Her strength, even at such a fragile age, was astonishing.

Premature birth and countless complications left Nadia with profound challenges. Her muscles are weak from prolonged hospital stays and surgeries—she cannot roll over, sit, or crawl without assistance. Her heart has had to cope with a defect that made every beat a struggle. Her eyes are impaired, with astigmatism and cataracts in one eye, and strabismus affecting her vision. Every small step, every sip of water, every bite of food is a carefully managed challenge. Even now, she must eat pureed meals slowly, through a syringe or spoon, because her gag reflex is strong and her body so fragile.

Yet, despite all of this, Nadia is filled with life. She laughs. She smiles. She fights. She is curious and joyful, reminding me and everyone around her of the incredible resilience children can have. But survival is not enough. For Nadia to grow, thrive, and have a chance at independence, she requires intensive, daily, and highly specialized rehabilitation—physiotherapy, speech therapy, occupational therapy—all tailored to her unique needs.

Every day without this care is a day her body and mind could regress. I cannot provide all of this alone. With four other children at home, our lives are stretched to the limit, both physically and emotionally. And yet, I refuse to give up. I refuse to let Nadia face the world without the tools she needs to grow.

That is why I am asking for help. Every donation, every contribution, every act of support can make a life-changing difference. Nadia deserves a chance to reach milestones that most children take for granted—learning to sit, to roll over, to feed herself, to explore her world safely. She deserves to have her potential nurtured, not limited by the circumstances of her birth and illness.

Nadia is strong, brave, and beautiful—but she cannot fight this alone. She is our little warrior, our inspiration, our angel. And we, her family, will fight alongside her every step of the way.

Please help us give Nadia the life she deserves. Please give her the chance to grow, to thrive, and to reach for the world she is so eager to explore. Every moment counts. Every bit of support brings her closer to the future she deserves.

—Ania, Mother