My name is Antosia, and my life began in the worst possible way. I was born at the height of the pandemic, when hospitals were overwhelmed, and access to doctors was severely limited.
It was a time of fear, confusion, and uncertainty. I arrived in the world far too early, weighing only 670 grams—one-fifth of the weight of a healthy newborn. From the moment I took my first breath, it was clear that my fight for life would be nothing short of a miracle.
The day my mother went into labor was the beginning of a chain of events that would change our lives forever. At only halfway through her pregnancy, my mother felt a sharp pain shoot through her body, causing her to collapse on the floor in agony. It was a terrifying moment, as she had no idea what was happening. She thought it was too early for me to be born. But soon, things took a turn for the worse as she began bleeding heavily. In a panic, my family called for an ambulance to rush us to the hospital.
When we arrived, the doctors quickly discovered that I was suffering from a serious intrauterine infection. The situation was critical. My mother’s life was in danger, and I was fighting for mine. Without wasting any time, the doctors performed an emergency cesarean section to bring me into the world. But this was just the beginning of my struggle. The moment I was delivered, my tiny body was not ready to survive. I had severe circulatory and respiratory problems. I couldn’t breathe on my own, and I was struggling to stay alive.
The doctors fought relentlessly to save me. I was resuscitated and intubated immediately, my frail body hooked up to life support machines. For the first few days of my life, it seemed like death was imminent. My lungs couldn’t function properly, and my heart wasn’t strong enough to pump blood effectively. The doctors did everything they could, but my survival seemed uncertain. My body was simply too fragile to survive outside the safety of my mother’s womb.
But I wasn’t ready to give up. Despite my small size and the overwhelming odds stacked against me, I kept fighting. I was extremely premature and had postnatal asphyxia—meaning I couldn’t breathe properly on my own. My heart, already weak and under stress, stopped several times, as though it was giving up. But every time, the doctors revived me. They worked tirelessly, using every ounce of their training and skill to bring me back to life. And somehow, against all odds, I pulled through.
However, surviving wasn’t the end of my battle. The hardest part came when they had to separate me from my mother. She wasn’t allowed to hold me or comfort me during those early days. I was alone in that cold, sterile hospital room, unaware of what was happening to me. For two whole days, my mother had no information about my condition. It was a heartbreaking experience for both of us. She was desperate to hold me, to feel my warmth, but instead, she was left waiting and wondering if her baby would make it.
The fear of the unknown hung over us both. I was only a newborn, but I could feel the confusion, the loneliness, the fear that came with being separated from my mother. My little body fought to survive, and my mother fought with me, even from a distance. We were both desperate for reassurance, for hope.
In the days that followed, I began to show signs of improvement. My heart became stronger, my lungs began to function better, and my body started responding to the treatment. But my survival came with a heavy price. I had a long road ahead of me—a road filled with uncertainty and challenges. I was facing significant developmental delays, as I had been born so prematurely. To have any hope of catching up with my peers, I needed intensive rehabilitation. My muscles were weak, and I lacked the mobility of a healthy child. I needed special therapy, ongoing doctor visits, and the right equipment to help me build strength and improve my development.
Despite the difficulties ahead, I was determined not to give up. I wanted to be like other children. I wanted to run, to play, to live a life filled with joy and opportunity. But these dreams won’t come true without help. My family can’t provide everything I need on their own. The cost of my treatment, my rehabilitation, and the special equipment required to aid my recovery is beyond what they can afford.
This is where you come in. I need your help. Your kindness and generosity can make all the difference in my life. With your support, I can have a chance at a future that once seemed impossible. I don’t want to be defined by my early struggles or my premature birth. I want to be a child who grows, learns, and becomes independent. I want to be able to run and play with my friends. But I can’t do it alone.
Please, don’t let me fight this battle alone. Just as I fought for my life in those early days, I am fighting for my future now. With your help, I can make it through the toughest parts of my journey. Please, give me the chance to have the life I’ve always dreamed of. Your support is the hope I need to survive and thrive.
Thank you for being the light that helps me find my way in this world. With your help, I know that I can make it.