From the moment I was born, the world was not gentle.
I came into life small, blue, and unable to breathe on my own.
Instead of feeling the warmth of my mother’s embrace, I felt the harsh chill of an incubator. Machines beeped constantly. Nurses and doctors rushed around me. The world was loud, unfamiliar, and terrifying.
I was alone, and I knew it, even though I was just a baby.
My tiny body struggled for every breath. Every gasp was a battle. Every heartbeat was a victory I couldn’t yet understand.
The doctors worked tirelessly to stabilize me. Their hands saved my life repeatedly, but the challenges didn’t end there.
My heart wasn’t functioning properly. Urgent surgery was needed. I didn’t understand what that meant. I only knew my body was too weak to keep up with the world around me. The constant beeping of machines was unrelenting. It made it impossible to rest.
Then the pain started.
It began in my stomach. Sharp, relentless, like someone was drilling into me. Hours passed, and I couldn’t sleep. Every moment was agony I couldn’t comprehend.
Doctors ran tests. Procedures followed procedures. Finally, they discovered the cause: necrotizing enterocolitis, or NEC—a life-threatening condition affecting my intestines.
It felt like my body had been chosen to endure one disaster after another.
During a complicated surgery to save my intestines, something went wrong. My body was punctured. Emergency surgery was needed immediately.
This time, a stoma—a surgically created opening to replace my intestines—was required to keep me alive.
The pain, the fear, the helplessness—it never seemed to stop.
Then came the infection. My body went into septic shock. My tiny frame trembled violently. High fever burned through me. Convulsions seized my body. Breathing became shallow and fast. I could barely open my eyes.
For a moment, it felt like I was slipping away.
The doctors didn’t give up. They transfused seven units of blood into my fragile body. Seven times, they fought to keep me alive.
And somehow, against all odds, I survived.
Every breath I take now is a miracle. Every beat of my heart is proof that I was meant to keep fighting.
But my journey is far from over.
I still face a future riddled with uncertainty.
My kidneys are failing. I will need constant care. Medications. Specialist appointments. Rehabilitation. Basic necessities that many take for granted.
The burden is not just physical—it is financial. My family is struggling to keep up with the costs of my care. Every day is a fight, not just for my life, but for our ability to provide the resources I need to survive.
This is why I am reaching out to you.
I need your help.
Every donation—no matter how small—helps.
It could provide life-saving medications. Cover hospital visits. Pay for essential rehabilitation. Keep me clean and healthy. Keep hope alive.
Each contribution is not just money—it is a chance at survival. A chance to grow. A chance to live the life I deserve.
I am not giving up.
Even after all I have endured, I am still here. Still fighting. Still breathing. Still hoping.
But I cannot do it alone.
Your generosity can help me take the next step.
It can help me survive the surgeries, the treatments, and the medications I still need.
It can give me a future where I can experience life the way a child should: laughing, playing, and growing without constant pain.
I want to run in the sun. I want to feel the grass under my feet. I want to laugh and hug my family without the shadow of sickness looming over me.
That future is possible—but I need your help to reach it.
Every act of kindness matters. Every donation is a lifeline. Every share spreads awareness and brings someone else into this fight.
I am Mikołaj. I am small, but my will to live is enormous.
I have already survived things no baby should endure.
I’ve faced the darkness of an incubator filled with machines, the terror of surgeries, the agony of infections, the fear of never waking up.
And I am still here.
Every day is a victory. Every hour is a blessing. Every smile is proof that life can be stronger than illness.
But the fight continues.
I still need medications to manage my kidneys. I still need rehabilitation to grow strong. I still need specialists to guide my care. I still need the basics to live with dignity.
And without support, these simple necessities may not be possible.
I am asking you—please, help me.
Not because I want gifts or attention. Not because I want fame.
But because I want to live. I want to survive. I want a chance to grow up.
Your support gives me hope. Your kindness gives me strength. Your generosity gives me life.
I can’t promise the road ahead will be easy. But I promise this: I will keep fighting.
I will keep breathing.
I will keep hoping.
And one day, with your help, I will thrive.
I will experience life outside hospital walls. I will play with my friends. I will hug my family. I will laugh without fear of pain.
This is more than a plea.
It is a call to action.
It is a chance to save a life that has already beaten unimaginable odds.
Your support can be the reason I get to see another birthday. Another Christmas. Another sunny day.
Every donation, every share, every prayer counts.
Please, join me on this journey. Be part of my fight. Help me survive. Help me grow. Help me live.
I am small, but my courage is big.
I am fragile, but my spirit is unbreakable.
I am Mikołaj, and I need you.
Together, we can give me a chance at life.
Together, we can make sure that the miracles I’ve already survived continue.
Because every child deserves a chance.
Because every life is precious.
Because I want to see the world—and I want to live in it.
Please help me.