The Puzzle of Elijah

Ольга Анатольевна Анищенко, 2023

This book tells the story of a happy family awaiting the birth of their fourth child. In the middle of her pregnancy, Olga learns their baby boy will be born with a serious disability. Questions of serious concern arose: should they abort the baby or trust and accept God’s will as it comes? Olga and her husband do not hesitate to choose life for their son. The child is born premature and very weak. Will he survive and, if he does, what will his life be like? Why did this happen to them, the Believers? How will these serious decisions affect their family? Elijah’s birth created critical questions, which Olga, Oleg, and their loved ones will need to find answers to. Olga shares her poignant story to help support other families who face similar medical crises and emotional overwhelm.

REVIEWS

“Dear reader, I am so glad you chose this book! In it you will find a fascinating story of a mother, who boards an emotional roller coaster that tests her in every way possible, while her precious longed-for baby struggles to survive. Walk with Olga as she relates her story of life, love, survival, and learning while on this path. Be uplifted…”

Marie Walters

“This was one of the most heart touching and hardest books to read. This book is not for the faint of heart. This book was a big eye opener for me as to understanding people who are going through a hard time in life. As I am related to Olga, as a sister, seeing them go through this scary time in their life, I did not fully comprehend the intensity of their pain and just how excruciating fragile everyday was for them until I read the book. It will be hard for you to read the book and not shed many tears. I can say their testimony forever changed my heart.”

Lana Mchedlidze

“This book is a wonderful source of encouragement for anyone who is going through a difficult time in their life and struggling with their faith in God. Olga’s story is a beautiful testament to the hope that exists in even the darkest of days.”

Taylor Hooper

“This is a heartwarming story of a couple that struggle with tough decisions that I’m not sure I would be able to make concerning their 4^th child. God’s grace and love and their strong faith makes this a book that you’ll not soon forget.”

Sandie Hollister

“I did not have the honor of knowing Elijah, but I have come to know his mother, Olga, and learned of the amazing impact his life had upon his family and the medical personnel. As told in detail by his mother, Elijah’s story broke my heart and lifted my spirit on every page. He was a warrior sent here to teach all of us the value of life, and the power of families to find faith, love, and joy even in the most heart wrenching circumstances. Within the pages of this book you will mostly likely weep when Elijah struggles to survive, and his parents make life or death decisions. Yet, you will also be inspired by the courage and faith of this family as they triumph over tragedy and move forward to serve others with love and compassion in their community.”

Kay Watson

“This book is a journey, filled with Love, Courage and Faith. Love not only for Elijah, but the love shown and shared by Olga and Oleg for each other and their children. Courage shown by Olga and Oleg to do everything in their power to save the life of their precious Elijah. Faith in our God that He would be with them through out this journey. This journey does not end with the final page… It continues.”

Joe Amaya

“Life is full of good times, love, hope and, sometimes, hard choices. Hopefully those hard choices happen only once in a lifetime, an overwhelming challenge of hope and faith… Having worked in a Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU) for 38 years, I met and cared for, not only infants, but whole families. One family I will never forget immigrated from the Ukraine and Russia and were put into a world so very foreign from anything they had ever had to experience before. They had to put their trust in what Doctors and Nurses had to say. Oleg and Olga and their entire family were dealt a card no one would have wanted to deal with. I know this from my personal experience. Their story will capture your heart and soul, as they fought for the life of their premature son. Through this son, Elijah, they found more love and faith than they ever though was possible. I am honored to be part of this story.”

Patti Dryden

The Puzzle of Elijah

Life is a puzzle.

You never know what the big picture is going to look like.

You may think, here is the end of life,

but in reality — it is only the beginning.

Olga Anischenko

The Puzzle of Elijah

© 2018 Olga Anischenko. All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any way by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording or otherwise without the prior permission of the author except as provided by USA copyright law.

Book editor: Kay Watson

Cover designer: dezaro.net

Website: www.olgaanischenko.com

YouTube: Olga Anischenko English Channel

Amazon books: Olga Anischenko or http://a.co/9QyIdgZ

To invite Olga as a speaker: 360–521–9240

INTRODUCTION

My name is Olga. This story is about my family, friends, and completely unfamiliar people, who miraculously appeared in our life and helped us during difficult times. I wrote this book for seven long years.

Writing this book has been everything but easy. It has taken time to reflect, understand, and to become completely at peace with the decisions we made and the actions we took. And to be completely honest, it was painful everyday as I recalled and wrote down memories, experiences, thoughts, and such personal conversation as we sometimes had to have. It was never easy for me to entrust my soul to paper. I even had to face family and friends who doubted the wisdom of sharing our story. They felt there were parts of the story which should not be told. I then faced a new dilemma: should I tell only part of our story or be truthful in every detail. I chose the harder way, to share our journey as openly and completely as possible.

Ultimately, I realized my story, told sincerely, would help other families in similar situations. This approach inspired me and gave me confidence I was doing the right thing. I know what parents feel in the midst of continuing crises. I have experienced their fears and their pleas for mercy in their prayers. I know they do not need pity. They need help and encouragement; support and assurance they are doing the right thing for their child; and never-ending love which gives them confidence to keep going.

Every page of this book was written by me with tears. In the process of working and examining what we experienced, I discovered a lot in myself, in my loved ones, and in my God. It is God that Oleg and I are grateful to for the experience and support we received throughout such a difficult time for our family. We have discovered that serious trials can become the foundation for future growth and success. Passing through the limits of physical and moral strength, we moved forward. Accepting from God both good and bad, we decided to rely entirely on Him, believing that He will lead us to a better future.

In fact, my book is a story of faith, hope, love, courage and, at the same time, worry for the future of our family. Under the weight of unimaginable stress, we made important and irreversible life and death decisions. It was a struggle and a challenge to everything we believed in and how we lived. Now, years later, we realize who we are and why we have experienced this life lesson. Over time, there was a clear understanding that we survived largely due to our large family, and the upbringing we received in our childhood. Our parents instilled the qualities in us which helped us cope with the tragedy. We realized that our life is firmly entwined with the subtle and inextricable thread of the past.

…….

1

Find out about your ancestors and you

will learn a lot about yourself.

My husband Oleg and I are immigrants to America. In 2007, ten years into our marriage, our journey began…

One evening, when Oleg, I and our three children knelt to pray to God, I heard Oleg say: “God, I am so tired of being a “lukewarm” Christian. I want to have a personal relationship with You! Please send a situation into my life that will show me WHO YOU REALLY ARE!” For a moment, I felt scared and thought what is my husband talking about? But because I loved him and trusted him, I thought he knew what he was asking for. As I understood later, our words have power because God heard my husband’s prayer. He came and knocked at our door, and we began a very hard journey. Only a few years later, when we read a following statement in the book of Sirach, 2:1-5, in a full Bible, we understood what had actually happened.

It says there: “My child, if you aspire to serve the Lord, prepare yourself for an ordeal… Be sincere of heart, be steadfast, and do not be alarmed when disaster comes. Whatever happens to you, accept it, and in the uncertainties of your humble state, be patient, since GOLD IS TESTED IN THE FIRE, and the CHOSEN IN THE FURNACE OF HUMILIATION.”

I am about to tell you what happened after Oleg’s prayer. I am not blaming my husband or God. Today, seven years later, Oleg and I thank God for every second of our life, for God’s miracles, lessons and for revealing Himself to us. God’s work in our life was painful, but worth every moment of it. It was the time of spiritual growth and learning Who really God is. Today, we love God, each other, and our children so much more than we ever did before. We value our family and know the price of health and happiness. And most important, we know the difference between religion and the real God!

This story begins with our family. We, as individuals, are a product of our family and of other people, who influence us. Therefore, to understand our decisions, you have to understand us as a family. The decisions we make today are connected to the past.

…….

My family is from Ukraine. Grandmothers and Grandfathers grew up in wealthy families, but during the revolution, the communists took away most of their property and distributed it between the poor people. Life in the Soviet Ukraine under the communist regime was hard: less food being produced, hunger and some deaths from starvation.

During World War II, in 1942, the Germans invaded our country. My Grandfather, Alexander Lapin, was drafted into the Red Army. He helped to defend the city of Leningrad and was among the troops who entered Berlin. He believed his faith in God kept him safe, when so many people died during the war.

When Alexander came home, he fell in love with a beautiful girl, Anna, and married her. They lived in the urban-settlement, Rakitno, seventy miles from Kiev, the Capitol of the Ukraine. Alexander was a generous man and people were drawn to him. He was originally a member of the Baptist church. After returning from the war, his faith had changed. He became a pastor of a Pentecostal church, serving his community and seven surrounding villages. He rode his bicycle to see people, bringing honey and other gifts with him. At the same time, Alexander worked as а machinist of a local train company. With time, their family grew to nine children. My Father, Anatoliy, is their second child.

Alexander & Anna Lapin My Father — Anatoliy Lapin

…….

My Mother’s Father, Peter Lysenko, was also drafted into World War II. One battle became so intense that many of his fellow soldiers were injured or killed. Wounded and fearing death, he cried out to the Lord, “If you exist, help me survive and I will serve you to the end.” He survived, but was captured by Germans and put on a train to Auschwitz, a concentration camp. On the way, he and two other soldiers crawled up to the roof and tried to escape. The two soldiers were shot and killed; Peter was the only one to escape.

Several months later he returned home. His life was still in danger, as the Germans were in every village of the Ukraine. He joined the Baptist church, where he met a beautiful girl, Maria, and married her. At first, he worked at a grocery store. Later, he became a supervisor of agricultural workers. During evenings he would do wood work and build furniture. Peter also became a pastor of a Pentecostal church in his village. With Maria, they had eleven children. My Mom, Vera, is their third child.

Peter & Maria Lysenko My Mother — Vera Lysenko

Several years later, Peter developed a tumor in his head and almost died. His wife and children prayed for him, and God healed him. Disabled, Peter could no longer work and stayed home with the children.

Maria worked as a nurse to support the family. At that time, to practice one’s Christian faith was unacceptable to the communist government. Because Maria was a Christian, she was sent far from her village to work with disabled patients, so she would not tell people about God. Soon, she lost her job. Peter went to Kiev and talked to the governor. He told him that he defended his country and became disabled. His wife, Maria, the only source of income, lost her job because she was a Christian. Peter asked for help. The governor was not happy about this situation. He promised to write a letter to Maria’s employer. Maria got her job back.

The police actively searched for people practicing their faith. If caught by the government, they were subject to fines, persecution, even imprisonment. The government threatened to take away the children of Christian families, if they kept teaching them about God. In order to worship God together, families had to gather in secret at someone’s house, in the woods, or in another village, where they were less known. Freedom of religion, as we practice it in the United States today, was prohibited. Something as simple as a church building was not allowed to exist. To protect the church and its members, parents strongly encouraged their children to marry within the faith. Therefore, it was important for Christian families to know each other and to rely upon each other. Mom’s and Dad’s families lived thirty minutes apart. They met during church activities.

Christian children were generally not accepted into college. Only those, who had straight A’s and didn’t have to take an exam, were accepted. Still they were always oppressed. My Mom was one of the lucky few, accepted into college and allowed to complete a degree as an Engineer/Technologist. My Dad received his training through college and later through his job, and had professions as a Diesel Locomotive Engineer, Electrician, Welder and Plumber.

…….

My Dad knew and loved my Mom since she was thirteen, but he had never told her. Upon returning from the Soviet Army during 1970’s, at age twenty-one, he asked my Mom to marry him. She agreed, and they have been very happy together. They lived by his parents, who divided their land into four plots and gave a plot to their three oldest children, including my Father. Dad was a machinist at a train station, and Mom supervised a meat company. The first few years of their marriage, with the help of relatives, they built their house, while keeping full-time jobs.

My parents first had two daughters. When time came for me to be born, the doctor and Mom were the first ones to welcome me into this world. At that time, Fathers were not allowed into the delivery room. When Dad came to visit Мom and the baby, the nurse greeted him,

“Congratulations, you have a baby girl!”

“A girl? I really wanted a boy!” responded my Dad.

“It is a girl and you are taking her home!” the nurse answered firmly.

After ten days of hospitalization, Dad brought Mom and me home. They had two weeks to register the name of a newborn child.

“What name should we give to our daughter? Maybe Oksana or Natasha?” my Mom asked my Father.

Dad left to register the name. When he came home in the evening, Mom was surprised to see that the name on the birth certificate was Olga.

“Why did you choose the name Olga?” she asked my Dad.

“It is beautiful and easy to say. It will sound beautiful when she is young and as she gets older,” Dad answered.

The name Olga means “Holy, Blessed and Successful.” I was lucky to be born to parents who loved me, cared for me, gave me values, taught me right from wrong, and provided me with a faith to guide my life. Even today, they continue to provide a point of reference, answer my questions, tell me what they think and give me honest advice. I value their opinion and their love.

When my parents had a fourth child, they were considered a large family, so the government gave Mom a two-year maternity leave. She stayed home, and Dad continued working. One day, while doing a repair at his job, Dad injured his right wrist. It was cracked, became very sore, swollen and infected, and eventually turned into cancer. The doctor told my Father, in order to live, his arm needed to be amputated.

Everyone prayed for our Father. No one thought he deserved it. He was a good Christian and a youth leader in their church. My Father’s parents believed God was powerful to heal their son and tried to talk him out of the surgery. They also worried how he would be able to support his family.

I remember one evening, when our Father sat on a bed and hugged us all, there was a big lump on his right arm. That was the last time I saw him with both arms. He agreed to amputate his right arm above the elbow, so that the infection would not spread to his whole body. His surgery was done on his 30th birthday. My Grandfather could not visit my Father for a whole month. It was too painful for him to see his now disabled son. In addition to pain, the newly acquired disability cost my Father his career.

Both of my Grandmothers had big families and could not help much. So, Great-Aunt Hanna, who never married and loved our Dad since he was a little boy, helped our Mom. She watched the children, while Mom visited Dad at a regional hospital, riding the train two hours each way, three times a week. Hanna stayed with us, cooked meals and washed our laundry. She sent us to school and gave us lots of love.

Great-Aunt Hanna My Mother and I

Even though we were little, I remember seeing my Mom praying many times and asking God to heal our Father. We prayed with her. Our Father stayed at the hospital for a few months and then came home to complete his recovery. When people came to visit him, some of them encouraged my Mom,

“Stay strong, believe, God will heal him.”

But others didn’t see any hope for the recovery.

“Prepare for the funeral,” they whispered in Mom’s ear.

When Mom’s maternity leave ended, she could not return to her previous job because of ill husband, four small children and cattle to feed. She requested a transfer to a closer location. Mom was offered her a job at the office, but she chose to work as an operator, three shifts: morning, evening, or night. It was a walking distance from our home. She was able to come home during her lunch hour to feed us and the livestock.

Our Mom’s love helped our Father to recover, get up each day and continue living. Great-Aunt Hanna and all the relatives helped us as much as they could. Sometimes we had no money for food. In those times, it seemed people were always willing to help us. We even received a parcel from Germany, from people whom we didn’t know. We accepted it as from the hand of God.

Our Father could no longer be a machinist. With tears in his eyes, he would watch the passing trains near our home. As he became stronger, he started a bee farm and sold honey. Our family grew tulips in a hot house and sold them on March 8^th, the International Women’s Day. We also grew produce for our family and lots of radishes, which we sold every season. My Father was creative and did more work than many men with two arms did. Both my parents worked very hard and never complained.

Attending church for the first time after the illness, a very religious member of the church told my Father he had a message for him from God. “What happened to you was My will. Don’t ask why. A long way lies before you. Your feet will step where you have never been before. Your family will always have food and clothes, and I will take care of you.” At that time our parents had no idea what this prophecy meant. It came true eleven years later, when we emigrated from Ukraine to America.

My parents, brothers & sisters. I am the second one on the right.

While Mom worked, we spent time with Dad. We raised produce for food, helped in the garden, picked berries and cared for animals. Dad made work fun. Often, we played with our cousins, swam at the lake or river and played games.

In school we were polite Christian children. We always earned good grades and excelled in art. The Principal often praised us at school assemblies. At the end of her speech, she always added a conclusion, “There is no God. Whoever believes in God will lose a lot in this life.” The school children made fun of us, as Christians. Acts like these were accepted as normal social rules of conduct, never spoken, but always understood.

In the 1980’s only a few people in our village had cars. You had to have cash and be on a waiting list, in order to buy a new car. Because our parents had many children and our Dad was disabled, the government let our family buy a car without being on a waiting list! Amazingly, with one arm Dad was able to drive his car. He frequently helped friends and neighbors with rides. Later, he drove his Father to churches in surrounding villages and supported Christians there. Our Father was a respected man in our community. He was always kind, quiet, helpful, happy and had a heart full of love.

My parents’ religion taught them to have all the children that God would give them. Even though they worried how they would financially support a larger family, they had four more healthy children in Ukraine and were able to provide for our needs. We were a large and happy family, never viewing our Father as disabled. Mom loved him so much! At that time, many individuals having amputations did not survive. Our Dad was among the lucky ones.

2

You never know the importance of freedom

until you don’t have it.

In 1979, because of religious persecution, many Jews and Christians were seeking permission from the Russian government to leave the country. By the late 1980’s, the government began issuing Visas. Our family applied for a Visa to immigrate to America. We traveled to Moscow and stayed there for two weeks, waiting to be interviewed by the American Embassy. After approval by the Russian government, in 1990, we received a Visa that would permit our family, our Uncle Peter, and other relatives to immigrate to America.

We were required to have a sponsor to immigrate. Our sponsor was Jacob Lapin, a person we did not know, even though he had the same last name. Because we did not understand the immigration process, we were afraid to go. Uncle Peter chose to immigrate to America first. A year later, he became our sponsor and sent us a new Visa. This was a difficult decision for our parents. Being in America would allow us to freely practice our religion. If we remained, we would continue to be persecuted. Language would be a barrier and the future unknown.

Our ties to family in Ukraine were difficult to let go. Since Mom’s parents had immigrated to America after Uncle Peter, she really wanted to go. But Father’s parents and Great-Aunt Hanna were still in Ukraine. “I am old and want to spend the rest of my life in my homeland,” Great-Aunt Hanna said. Father’s parents also had no plans to leave their country.

My parents, brothers & sisters. I am the second one on the right.

I was fourteen years old and excited about going to America, but I didn’t know that being in a foreign country, unable to speak the native language, would be so challenging. The freedoms that we would enjoy in America, would allow our family religious, educational and economic opportunities. People who have always had those freedoms, cannot understand what it is like not to have them. We chose freedom.

We sold our house and car and used the money for our immigration. On January 22, 1992, we said good-bye to our family and friends. Our Father kissed the corner of our house, which he had built, knowing he would likely never see it again. We loaded our luggage on a private bus that we rented and drove 600 miles to Moscow International Airport. After thirteen hours of flight, we landed in New York. Six hour later, we boarded another airplane and flew to Portland, Oregon. Because some of our friends and relatives immigrated before us, they were there to greet us. We were excited to see each other.

The first two weeks we stayed with our Uncle Vlad’s family in Vancouver, Washington, in his three-bedroom house. One bedroom was for our uncle, his wife and their five children. The second bedroom was for our parents and their two youngest children, and the third bedroom was for us, four older girls. Our two brothers slept on couches in the living room. We slept during the day and were awake at night; it took a few days to adjust to the 12-hour time difference.

When Uncle Vlad drove us to the grocery store for the first time, I could not believe what I saw: ice cream in plastic buckets, and so many different fruits and vegetables! Our food selection in the Ukraine was not even close to what America had to offer. We were happy in Ukraine with what we had because we knew no better. In America, we thanked God for everything: food on the table, a place to live, and warm clothes.

For a while, we found oranges underneath my sister’s pillow. “Why do you keep oranges under your pillow?” we asked. “Because I love oranges so much and worry that I may not have them tomorrow,” answered our sister. She had hard time believing that she was in America and could eat oranges whenever she wanted.

The two weeks passed, and we were ready to move into our own place. It had not been easy to find a space given that there were ten of us and little money. Finally, we found a two-bedroom apartment. It was challenging with one bathroom and a small space, but we were in America! God had blessed us!

At one point the principal of a school came to talk with my parents about my brother’s behavior. When he saw our tiny space and our lack of furniture, he left and came back in one hour with a truck full of used furniture, lamps and other items that would improve our life. We are still grateful for his kindness! It made a difference in our lives.

As I think of it today, I am so thankful to our Uncle Peter, for helping us immigrate to America. I am thankful to Uncle Vlad for letting us stay with his family in a foreign country, even though it wasn’t simple for seventeen people to live together. I also thank God for the good people who helped us, and for the welfare program, which gave us food stamps and cash for living. From the bottom of my heart, I thank this country for accepting us, the Immigrants!

…….

We were happy, excited and ready for a new start in America; then we started missing our old country. It was difficult to make friends. We missed our house and our native language which we understood. Most of Mom’s relatives lived in Vancouver. She seemed to be happy, being close to her family. But our Father missed his family in Ukraine. (He never saw his Mother again, as she died shortly after he left, but he saw his Father ten years later.) Our parents worried about how we were going to live in America. They did not have jobs and language was a barrier. Our Father stayed home with the younger children and received Social Security disability.

English was taught in my Mom’s school, but that had been twenty years before, therefore, she had limited English skills. It was difficult to function in America, and Mom understood that she would need to get a job requiring English. She constantly tried to learn the English language. I remember seeing her often fall asleep with an English/Russian dictionary in her hands.

My Father had learned German in the Ukrainian school as had the rest of the family, so we all had to start learning English. When shopping, Father carried a pencil and paper with him and drew a picture of what he needed. We, three older girls, were placed in ninth grade in the English as a Second Language (ESL) program. At our school many immigrants spoke Russian, so we did not feel lonely.

Our Mom became pregnant with her ninth child. We desperately needed a larger home. My parents looked at a few houses, but no one would rent to such a big family. One day they were buying a newspaper at a gas station and met a lady named Patricia.

“Come back in two hours. I will give you the key to my two-story, three-bedroom rental house,” Patricia said.

“Thank you so much. We see your kind act as help from God,” my Mom answered.

Our new house was in another part of Vancouver, therefore, we had to change schools. Because we knew very few students who spoke Russian, school became more challenging. I could not say in English what I wanted to say; if I said something wrong, I felt embarrassed. Most of the time I just remained quiet.

Making friends was difficult. I prayed to God to send me a good friend. Soon I met Katya, a new immigrant, who also did not speak English. We became friends. That day, I remember, I shared the news with Katya,

“My baby sister was born today. Her name is Vera. She is ninth in our family!”

Since then we are the best friends with Katya until today. It has been 25 years!

The first two years in High School I took English as a Second Language class. As a Junior, I took ninth grade’s Standard English and received my first “A”. I was so proud of myself! Those hard days with the dictionary in my hands finally paid off. During my last year in High School, I completed a Legal/Medical Office Applications program at Clark County Skills Center. After graduating from high school, I started college.

Our school provided us with summer jobs. My first summer in America, I was fournteen and working at a day care center for $4.25 per hour. With my earnings I could buy what I needed and give any extra money to my Father for the family. As children and now as adults, we have always had a great relationship with our parents. They were generous with us and we all shared our resources.

At age sixteen, I completed a traffic safety program at my high school and received my driver’s license! It was not an easy accomplishment for me, but I managed to pass the test. Having a driver’s license enabled me to help my Mom, as she did not drive at that time.

After four years in America, our Mom had her tenth child, our beautiful baby sister, Anna. Parents were praying to God to help them buy a small, affordable house. One day, they just drove around Vancouver and saw a “For Sale” sign on an old and inexpensive house on one acre of land. They had no credit history, no English language, and could only afford a small payment. They met with the owner.

“God tells me to sell this house to this man,” the owner proclaimed pointing at my Father.

“Thank you so much for selling the house to us without even checking our credit history or income. We feel God’s love to us through your action,” my Father responded gratefully.

My parents bought the house and felt so lucky. The payment was low; once more God took care of us. At this time, man’s word and a handshake was his bond. We remodeled the house and our Mom opened a child care business in it. We all helped her.

…….

My husband’s parents, Sergey and Olga Anischenko, lived in Sukhumi, in the country of Georgia, where Oleg was born. Within a year, they moved 6,300 miles to Nakhodka, Russia, by the Japanese Sea, to be closer to his Mother’s family. Oleg was the second son in the family of five sons and one daughter. Both of his parents worked as tailors at a sewing company, and his Father had a second job, as a stoker at a coal company. They lived in their own house and had enough land to grow fruits, vegetables and berries. They worked hard to make a living.

The Christians in Russia and all the satellite countries were persecuted. In 1976, many Christian families sought to immigrate to America for religious reasons. Oleg’s Father was persecuted and arrested for his religious, human rights work. When the iron curtain finally collapsed, Oleg’s family was allowed to emigrate in 1988.

On a train, they rode 100 miles to Vladivostok. Then they flew 6,000 miles to Moscow, to get their immigration papers. Two weeks later they were able to board the train to Austria. Their family had purchased train tickets for a coupe wagon with beds, which is like a small room for the family. When Oleg’s Father tried to enter the train, he was pushed out by a military commander.

“Go to the back of the train and ride with soldiers,” — the commander said.

“But we have small children and bought the tickets for the coupe,” — Oleg’s Father objected.

“You will ride with soldiers today,” — the commander answered rudely.

Oleg’s family rushed to the back of the train, pushing their luggage on a metal cart. Oleg’s younger brother was running in front of the cart. He tripped, fell and his leg was deeply cut by the cart. The family had no time to stop. They simply picked him up and rushed to the train, where two nice ladies helped them aboard and assisted in binding the wound.

Oleg’s parents, brothers & sister. Oleg is the second tallest in the back.

Oleg’s family lived in Austria for two months and then immigrated to Italy. In Italy, they waited for another two months for a sponsor and documents, allowing them to enter the United States. Finally, they were able to take a plane to New York, and then to San Francisco. Due to a long flight and the time change, they were exhausted. On the flight to San Francisco, Oleg’s sister went through the checkpoint, boarded the plane into the first-class seating, and fell asleep without her family knowing where she had gone. Oleg’s fourteen-year-old brother, trying to be helpful, went to look for her with one of the airport security staff. Her parents found her sleeping inside the plane, but the older brother failed to make the flight. Thus, another flight for the brother had to be arranged by the sponsor. You can only imagine the stress Oleg’s parents went through while immigrating to America.

In San Francisco, earlier Russian immigrants from the church of Alexander A. Shevchenko, who came to America during 1940s, helped them. Oleg’s family lived in their church for two months before renting a small apartment. At the school they attended, Oleg and his siblings were the only white students. The other students consisted of African Americans, Hispanics and Phillippinos. This was very different than Russia. As their cultural knowledge grew and their language skills improved, America became less foreign.

After two years, Oleg’s family moved into the smaller, quieter and more affordable city of Modesto, California. Together, Oleg’s parents sewed for themselves and for others. More Russian people immigrated to Modesto and established a Russian church there. Oleg’s Mother taught Russian and Bible school, and led a children’s choir. She is a very positive and knowledgeable person. Oleg’s Father was kind and had high expectations for his sons. Unfortunately, diabetes disabled him at the age of 35 and his health was weak.

…….

3

Marriage is for life and divorce is a sin. If you

have problems, you work them out.

Some of my cousins lived in Modesto. In time, my extended family became friends with Oleg’s family. A year later, our cousins moved to live in Vancouver and Oleg came to visit them. The first time he saw me, he shared with my cousins that he liked me very much. They did not hesitate to report that news immediately to me. I was only fifteen years old and thought I was too young for love.

Two years later, one of my cousins opened an Auto Body shop in Vancouver. He knew that Oleg was responsible, so he invited him to come and work in his shop. Oleg thought this would be a great learning opportunity to improve his automotive skills. Plus, as he told me later, he could not wait to see me again. With the blessing of his parents, he moved to Vancouver to live and work. However, he had also promised his Father that he would return to Modesto after a year.

At this time, Oleg was nineteen years old and I was seventeen. We often saw each other in church and sometimes at my cousin’s home. Soon, Oleg started calling me. The third time I talked to him on the phone, he shared his feelings about me.

“Olga, I really like you. I am serious about this and, with time, I would like to marry you. Would you like to be my girlfriend?”

Oleg’s words really scared me. I barely knew him and wasn’t ready for a relationship, much less marriage, so I kept answering, “I don’t know.”

“Olga, do you know anything?” Oleg asked, impatiently.

“Oleg, I just started college. Give me time to concentrate on my education. If you are very serious, call me back in a year,” I answered politely.

That year hadn’t been easy for both of us. For some reason, I could easily talk to other youth in church, but not to Oleg. I avoided him and did unkind things to him. For example, he would quietly wait in the hallway to speak to me after the service, but I would intentionally pass by without looking at him or greeting him. It was if he did not exist. I knew that Christians should not do this. Maybe I had those feelings of love for him inside me, but I did not want to recognize it.

During the year, Oleg had returned to Modesto, as he promised to his parents. Exactly one year after I asked Oleg to call me back in a year, he called me and said,

“Olga, the year has passed, but I still love you so much. Would you consider being my girlfriend?”

I was so shocked. During the year we had communicated very little. I was happy to hear his voice.

“I was not nice to you, Oleg. Would you ever forgive me?” I asked.

“I love you so much, Olga. I forgive you and would like to spend the rest of my life with you,” Oleg said with a calming voice. “Would you consider dating me, please?”

“Give me a day to think and pray about this,” I asked.

Oleg promised to call me the next day. With blond hair, blue eyes and a big beautiful smile, Oleg was the nicest young man I had ever met. He was always friendly and polite. I liked him, and my parents liked him too. I knew if I entered a relationship with him, it was a serious step and promising basically to date him exclusively. Was I ready to do this? Did I want to do this? After much praying and asking for God’s blessing, I agreed to enter into a friendship with Oleg. That relationship has grown into a great love.

For the next nine months, Oleg would drive to Vancouver once a month, twelve hours each way, to see me. While staying in Vancouver for three to four days, he would also pick up a job at my cousin’s shop. On the first evening, Oleg came to see me with a huge bouquet of flowers. Our love was growing stronger every day. While he was in California, we would talk on the phone and write each other letters.

I believed that marriage is for life and divorce is a sin. If you have problems, you work them out. Things were becoming serious and I knew if Oleg asked me to marry him, it was for life, if I said “Yes”.

During one of his visits, Oleg took me out to a beautiful park besides the river and proposed to me on bended knee.

“Olga, would you marry me, please?”

“Yes!” I exclaimed with joy, and then continued, “Oleg, please get, up. You are embarrassing me on your bended knee. People are watching us!”

We were so happy together! I loved Oleg so much and he loved me. Shortly after this visit, Oleg, his parents, his pastor, and his relatives came to meet my parents and me. We celebrated our engagement. Oleg’s parents brought a huge sweet Russian bread, called “Karavai”, which they had made and decorated beautifully with dough flowers and a braid on top. Traditionally, a young man brings this bread to the girl he loves when he asks her to marry him. They eat this bread together. Oleg’s family was wonderful. I felt their love towards me from the first day. It was a beautiful day and it just happened to be my 19th birthday.

Five months later, on April 5^th, 1997, Oleg and I were happily married. We promised each other to be faithful in happiness and sorrow, in richest and the poor, and stay together until death separates us. We felt deep love for each other and felt God’s blessing upon us. One day I learned that Oleg's name meant “Holy and Faithful”. To know that his name was connected with God only lifted up my heart more.

Our first year of marriage was a beautiful year of adjustments. We loved each other dearly, but had to find how to compromise on our different points of view. My values taught me to respect my husband and to listen to him as the head of the household, yet, we didn’t always agree on what to do or how to do it. As the years pass, we have learned that we can have a difference of opinion and to respect that difference. The more freedom we give each other, the more our love and our respect for each other grows.

…….

Oleg worked at an Auto Body shop, where he was a highly-skilled technician. I continued with college. A year after we were married, I completed my Associate Degree in Business Administration/Accounting. It took me three years to complete a two-year program because of my limited English skills. I was so proud of myself, being the first in my family to graduate from High School and college in America! After college, I took a job at the bank, but continued to look for a job where I could use my education.

Soon, I became pregnant. We were blessed with our first son, David, whose name means “Beloved by God”. We loved being a young family, ready to assume greater responsibilities. Oleg and I came from large families and had helped our Mothers many times with child care. However, there is a process of growing into a mature parent, that nothing can teach you, except being a parent. I recognized how important it is to have parents who love you, help you, and are willing to share what they know. My parents already had three Granddaughters. David was the first Grandson for both sets of Grandparents, which gave him that special place in their hearts.

Eighteen months later, our beautiful daughter arrived. We named her Kristina, which means “Anointed, Follower of Christ”. Oleg’s Mother flew in from California to help us for two weeks. She was wonderful, letting me rest, recover and care for Kristina, while she took care of David, prepared meals and maintained the laundry. My Mom helped as much as she could but was limited because she was operating her business as a full-time child care provider.

When Oleg’s Mom flew back to California, it was my first day alone with two children. I remember sitting on a couch with a crying Kristina and David. I felt like they wanted to show me who could cry louder, each wanting my attention. As a young mother, I didn’t know which child to take care of first, so I also started crying. Yes, it helped, and after couple of minutes, we all calmed down and understood that we were a team and needed to be nice to each other.

Most of the time, David was nice to Kristina, but sometimes he was jealous and didn’t want to share his Mommy. In the mornings, when they woke up and saw each other, they were so happy, jumping on the bed and hugging each other. It was such a great blessing, seeing our children that God had given us.

Two months before Kristina was born, we bought our first house, thus Oleg worked more hours to provide additional money for our family. After work, he returned home tired and in need of rest, but the minute he saw David and Kristina, excited to see him, Oleg’s tiredness disappeared. He picked up the children and played with them. Our love as a family and as a couple continued to grow.

…….

When Kristina turned one, I decided to look for work. I was lucky. With my first application and first interview, I got a full-time job with the Women, Infants and Children (WIC) program. This became an important and rewarding endeavor in my life. The first four years I worked as a bi-lingual clerk at the front desk. I knew that with my degree I could have found a better job, but I was happy due to four elements: a good team, good pay, good benefits, and close to home. I learned job skills and more. I learned how to handle working relationships with the clients and co-workers, how to be patient, to respect each individual for who they are, and not to impose my personal judgments on others. Experience is a great teacher.

My Mom watched our children while Oleg and I worked. Often, when I came from work to pick up our children, she gave me freshly prepared food to take home. You just don’t go home as a wife. You have a family to care for, you have a husband and children, and you have to prepare a meal.

One time, I came to Mom’s house to pick up our children after work. She had just cooked vegetables for the potato salad. It only needed to be cut in pieces and mixed with a dressing. She gave it to me.

“Take it home and make salad for your family,” she insisted.

“What about you?” I asked.

“I can cook more vegetables,” Mom stated emphatically.

I thanked Mom, got into my car and cried. My Mom, who worked since nearly six o’clock in the morning, has given me her dinner, so I would not have to work as hard. I felt ashamed that I was not ready yet to do what she did. Thank you, Mom, for your loving heart!

…….

The children were growing and were so different. With curly hair and dimples on his cheeks, David looked a lot like my Dad. With blond curly hair and big blue eyes Kristina looked more like Oleg. David was neat and liked to play alone. But Kristina was the happiest and bravest child on earth and needed company. When they were growing up, they were such funny children.

One time my Mom was crying. David came up to her and said, “Grandma, don’t cry. I will buy you some ice cream.”

One evening, Kristina and I sat on a swing. She saw the moon and asked, “Mom, what is it?” “The moon,” I said. “Can I take it home?” Kristina asked. She thought she could reach the moon.

Kristina loved ripping flowers and giving them to me. She would rip flowers in our garden, in our neighbor’s garden, by the church, and I had to teach her where she could rip flowers and where she could not.

Oleg’s birthday was coming up. “What present should we buy for Daddy?” I asked. “Chips and Pepsi!” Kristina said excited. “No, our Dad loves coffee!” David said seriously.

One evening Oleg came home late from work. David was already sleeping. Then I realized — it was too quiet, which meant that Kristina was creating trouble. Quietly I walked to the kitchen and saw her with scissors in her hands. Her beautiful curly blond hair was already cut off and on the floor. I didn’t know how to react — to cry or to scream at her? With a wide-opened mouth I was speechless… I hugged her, put her to bed and took her to a hair dresser the next morning. Those beautiful curls are still in Kristina’s baby book.

Our firstborn, David Our daughter, Kristina

…….

When Kristina was four years old, I became pregnant for the third time. After my ultrasound, I received a phone call from my doctor, while I was at work.

“I don’t like your ultrasound results, Olga,” the doctor announced. “It shows that your baby boy could have Down’s syndrome, Trisomy 18 or Spinal Bifida. Olga, your child may be born very ill, not able to walk, and not even look like a normal person. Come in to do more testing.”

After I hung up the phone, my hands were sweaty and shaky, and tears covered my eyes. Good thing no one saw my pale face. I couldn’t concentrate or tell anyone the terrible news. How could I? “I will have an ill child? It can’t happen to me.”

After few minutes, I calmed dawn, walked to my supervisor’s office and asked for permission to leave work and see the doctor. She let me. It isn’t safe to drive, when you are scared and can’t concentrate, but I drove to the doctor’s office.

“Olga, we can do an amniocentesis test to make sure the ultrasound results are correct,” the doctor said.

“How do you perform this test?” I asked.

“With a needle we will poke your stomach and will take a small amount of amniotic fluid to check for genetic abnormalities. We don’t have to do it today. You can talk to your husband and let us know of your decision.”

The doctor gave me a brochure with this information. I spoke with Oleg at home. He was calm, but I worried.

“Our child is healthy. Everything will be okay,” he said.

In the brochure I read that there is a 60% miscarriage chance after this test. I called the doctor.

“We will not do this test,” I said. “Even if you did the test and it was abnormal, we would still not abort the baby. We know abortion is a sin, and we love our baby so much. We will pray, and God will help us.”

Oleg didn’t show that he worried, but I did. I couldn’t calm down. Being pregnant, I still had to continue working, drive children to Mom’s house in early mornings, pick them up after work, clean, cook and take care of the children. At night I would wake up at 2 or 3 A.M. and pray to God, begging Him to heal our baby. Only Mom, one of my sister and few friends knew about this problem. I was embarrassed to tell this news to someone or ask for prayers. I kept it all to myself. “How can I go back to work and show him to my co-workers? How can I show a disabled child to my friends and family? What would this say about me?” I thought.

When the time came for our baby to be born, I was in tears and couldn’t imagine what he would look like. But God heard our prayers and saw that we were not ready to accept a disabled child into our family. With tears of joy, we welcomed our healthy baby Michael. For us it was a miracle from God! Michael’s name means “Who is like God”.

When we brought Michael home, at first David and Kristina were happy to see him, but then they started acting up, crying and being jealous. Oleg was at work, and I thought, “What is going on?” Then I understood that they needed more of my attention, and I had to learn how to be a mother of three children.

Being parents of three is vastly different than being parents of two. I wanted to stay home to breastfeed Michael. WIC, my employer, supported my choice to combine maternity leave, saved sick and vacation leave, and time off without pay to enable me to be off work for eleven months.

…….

When I returned to work, there were some changes at the WIC program due to budget constraints. This required all clerks to also be cross-trained as Nutrition Assistants. Thus, in addition to scheduling appointments, issuing WIC vouchers, and answering a multiple-lined phone, my new duties included diet and weight assessments, checking hemoglobin and teaching the nutrition classes.

This offered several challenges. I was scared of blood. To do a hemoglobin test, I had to poke a client’s finger and deal with the blood. I also had to speak in front of people, but had no confidence to do so. How do you get up in front of a group of people when you have an accent and have no confidence in your ability to speak? I expressed these and other concerns to my boss.

“Olga, you have a choice. You either do it, or you quit,” she said.

“I need a job. It is a good job with good income and benefits. I have no choice as to keep the job and learn my new duties,” upset, I answered.

It is amazing what you can accomplish, if you put your mind to improving your skills. Two years later, in addition to my previous duties, I began teaching pregnant women about breastfeeding and helping them after delivery.

…….

In 2007, ten years into our marriage, Oleg changed to another auto body shop. Our income and benefits dramatically increased. Our house was on a busy street and not safe for our children, so we decided to buy a bigger house in a better neighborhood. We also bought two new cars on credit. Our life was good. We thought the money would always flow and we would be fine forever.

Raising our children was fun, but it also required lots of work to assure that our children were getting the best that we could provide them. I even volunteered in our church to teach Russian language to a class, which David attended. I understood the importance of our children knowing two languages, so I taught them how to read, write and speak Russian.

We were involved parents, trying to provide every opportunity for our children, and especially those opportunities we had not had as children. David was growing up as a serious and neat boy. Happy Kristina always helped me in the kitchen and took a good care of her younger brother, Michael. She loved doing his hair and dressing him up. And Michael was growing as a happy and patient baby. It was like he understood that I had to care for his brother and sister as well. With straight hair and blue eyes, Michael looked a lot like me. When Michael was growing up, we noticed that he was a very brave kid. At the age of four, he started riding his bike without training wheels, and two weeks later he rode a real dirt bike! We loved our children and provided what we could for them. Life with three children was so busy, but worth every moment of it!

Our third child, Michael

…….

As a family, we regularly attended church and read the Bible. Serving God and being close to Him was important to us. Oleg and I often discussed what our parents taught us, what we saw in church, and what we hoped to have in our life. We were a little dissatisfied that we were Christians, but didn’t experience God’s big power in our life. In the Bible, the book of Revelation 3:15-17, we read that God preferred for people to be either “cold” or “hot”, but not “lukewarm”. It is better to be a non-believer, than to claim that you know God and profane His name with your bad deeds.

Up to this point in our marriage we were Christians, but we took being Christians for granted. For example, reading the Bible and attending church was something we did, but we weren’t fully engaged. We didn’t do it with joy or excitement, because we felt that we were obligated to do it. We never questioned the relationship of ourselves to our faith. We just accepted what we were told. But now Oleg and I wanted to experience more of God’s love, power and presence in our life. So here, as I already said in the beginning of the book, our journey began…

One evening, when we knelt to pray to God, I heard Oleg pray, “God, I am so tired of being a lukewarm Christian. I want to have a personal relationship with You! I want to experience more of Your love, more of Your power and more of Your presence in my life. Please send a situation into my life that will show me WHO YOU REALLY ARE!” For a moment, I felt scared and wondered what Oleg was talking about. “How would this change our family and our life?” I thought. But I loved Oleg and trusted him. I thought he must know what he is asking for, but I had no idea what this would mean for our family. It struck me — it was an important moment in our lives.

From that day, Oleg totally changed. He began reading the Bible daily, sharing what he learned with us, and seeking answers for questions he had. It was like he was driven and wanted to know more. After he finished reading the book of Romans in the Bible, he did not understand it and had lots of questions. He wanted to know who the Apostle Paul wrote the book of Romans to, what he meant, and did it apply to us? We had been taught that certain parts of the Bible applied only to Gentiles, while other parts applied to Jews.

One day Oleg told me, “You know, Olga, if I want to know more about God, I probably have to learn more about the days of Moses, Jesus and His Apostles.”

I wondered what information he will be able to find. Oleg used the internet for research and was excited to share with me daily what new insights he learned. His love and interest in the truth about God grew. He simply had to know more. As we discussed and thought about what he learned, we began to have questions about what we were taught and prayed to God to reveal us the Truth. I also read the Bible, but hearing what Oleg shared with me was very interesting and unknown to me before. We began to question what God actually required of us, and what was the purpose of our life. Each question would lead us to other questions, like an unwinding spool of yarn. As a family, we studied and grew together in our faith.

……..

At the same time, significant changes happened in our life. Oleg’s job with a good salary was an hour drive each way. He decided to switch to a closer location, to be able to spend more time with the family. Unfortunately, his new location was not as busy. Oleg’s income decreased because there was less work and he was paid on a piece rate.

At about the same time, Oleg’s Father passed away at the age of 54. It was a big hit for Oleg’s whole family. It took them a while to accept it and move on.

Soon after, I injured my shoulders, which led to pain for the next few years and frequent doctor visits. Also, the economy took a downfall and our WIC department received a layoff notice due to lack of funding. I was going to lose my job in a year.

Between the house payment, car payments, our credit cards and other expenses, I wondered if we would ever be able to pay off our debt. I often cried out to God that we didn’t have the strength to handle this.

One day, my friend invited me to a prayer group, where God spoke to me, “My daughter, give your worry to Me and I will help you. All I need from you is PRAISE!” So, every time I worried, I praised God and His peace would come. It was such a wonderful feeling! Inside my heart I knew that God would help us.

The downturn in the economy also impacted my brothers and sisters. At that time, our parents started a family prayer time on Wednesday evenings at their house. Together with our children, we worshiped God and prayed for our needs and for needs of others.

One evening, my Aunt prophesied to most of the people in the group, and then to me, “My daughter, prepare yourself for an ordeal. Pray often for strength when a disaster comes to your family.”

I was scared and thought that something bad would happen to Oleg. Later that evening, my Grandmother came up to me and said, “Learn to be humble and patient.” I praised God often and prayed for His protection over our family.

…….

One month was replaced by another and the time of my lay-off was getting closer. We made financial changes in our family. Unbelievably, our debt became smaller. We sold both cars, eliminating two big payments and bought cheaper cars. Saving every penny, we tried our hardest to pay off our credit cards. I stopped going shopping and sometimes even went to a food bank to get help with food. The year of lay-off notice gave us time to adjust to a lower income.

Surprisingly, a year and a half later, we were debt free, except the mortgage payment, which was still very high relative to our income. We sought a loan modification, which took about three years to be finalized. Looking back, we were amazed at how God had helped us. I stayed at home with David, Kristina, and Michael, who were 11, 10 and 6 years old. We were happy together and thanked God for blessing us.

…….

4

You never know what your real values are until you

are faced with difficult real-life choices.

We love children and were delighted to find out that I was pregnant with our fourth child. In the sixth week of the pregnancy I developed complications and went to see the doctor.

“Olga, the ultrasound shows two fetuses,” the doctor said. “But one is smaller and not developing, and the other one is bigger and growing. This creates a risk of miscarriage. I need to prescribe strict bed rest for you.”

“A miscarriage? Two babies? One is not developing?” A sense of dread descended over me like a shroud. Scared, I implored God to save our baby, if it was His will. A few weeks later, I felt better and one of the fetuses survived.

At four months of pregnancy I went for a second ultrasound.

“It is a BOY!” the nurse said.

Then she paused, seemed worried.

“Actually, let me go get the doctor,” she said. “There seems to be a problem here.”

The doctor came and very carefully examined the ultrasound images. The look of his face registered concern. I knew immediately, there were serious problems.

“Olga, when we do the ultrasound, we can see if the baby’s heart is healthy. If a baby has Downs Syndrome or Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, the heart looks different. I can see the left side of your baby’s heart is not developing. It means he has Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome, which is not good news.”

For a moment, I couldn’t speak. My heart started beating rapidly and my hands started shaking.

“What? Our baby has health problems?” tears filled my eyes.

“This is a very rare heart defect which occurs in only 1 of 2,500 births. Usually, with this syndrome, 50% of babies also have Downs Syndrome. Your baby has no chance for life once born,” the doctor explained.

“Is there anything you can do to fix this problem?” I asked shakely.

“Previously, these babies had been dying right after birth. But 30 years ago, the doctors began doing surgeries to correct such problems. Usually they do an open-heart surgery on the first day of the baby’s life. Then, another surgery at six months, and the third one at the age of three years. The recovery is very difficult and not many babies survive these surgeries,” the doctor answered with a sad tone.

I was devastated and shocked by the news and could not believe this was happening. Why had God allowed me to survive the risk of miscarriage, to let this happen to my child? I wasn’t sure if I would be able to handle this situation, but just because I thought this, it didn’t make the problems of my pregnancy go away. “What if I could not handle this situation emotionally or physically? What about our other children?” The questions raced through my mind. Then reality grabbed me. No matter how many questions I had, none of the answers would take away the harsh reality of this pregnancy.

“Olga, I am referring you to a high-risk pregnancy specialist, in case you consider an abortion,” the doctor continued.

“I can’t do an abortion. This is our baby, whom we already love so much.”

All in tears I left the doctor’s office. Outside, shaking, crying, and having a hard time concentrating, I called Oleg at work and told him the devastating news.

“Our baby is a boy, who is having many heart issues. He will die if we don’t do the surgeries. Why did God let it happen to us?”

“Olga, God will help us. We should trust in His will,” Oleg said with a calm voice.

But I thought reality is reality and miracles just don’t happen in today’s world. Men often hide their feelings and don’t talk about them as much as women do. I wondered whether this was Oleg’ true feeling or if he was telling me what I needed to hear.

…….

That minute I remembered the Bible story of Job that Oleg and I had recently read. Job was a blameless, upright person, who feared God and shunned evil. Satan thought that Job was righteous because God had blessed him.

“If you take everything away from Job, I will prove to You that Job will curse you,” Satan told God.

“I let you test Job. I am sure he will not curse Me. He is a righteous and blameless person,” God replied to Satan.

With God’s permission Satan tested Job, by destroying his wealth, killing all his children and taking his health away from Job. But Job didn’t curse God. He remained loyal to Him. Satan was proved wrong and God blessed Job even more than before, by giving him more children and wealth. I wondered if God was testing us, as He had tested Job?

I drove directly to Mom’s house to see and talk to her. I knew her comfort would be forth coming.

“Our baby has very serious heart issues and may be born very ill,” I broke in tears. “He may not even survive…”

“Daughter, please don’t cry. Give your worry to God. He is in charge of everything and He will help you. We will be praying for your baby,” hugging me, Mom tried to calm me down.

I picked up our children and went home. Later that evening, Oleg and I talked to our children.

“David, Kristina and Michael, we have news for you!”

The kids came and sat next to us, ready to listen.

“The baby in Mama’s womb is a boy. You will have a little brother!” Oleg said.

David and Michael jumped up, being so happy about baby brother.

“But I wanted a sister,” Kristina started crying.

I comforted Kristina and shared the rest of the news.

“We also have very sad news for you. Your baby brother has many issues with his heart. When he is born, he may not even live long. He might require multiple surgeries and may not come home right away.”

The children were scared. With tears on their eyes, they looked at us, not sure what to ask, how to react or what to answer.

“We need to pray to God and ask Him to heal our baby,” Oleg said. “God is powerful. He heals people, if it is His will.”

Oleg embraced the children in his arms. We all prayed and cried out to God, asking for His mercy.

…….

One week later, while Oleg was at work, I had a second ultrasound at a high-risk Obstetrician/Gynecology clinic.

“Olga, this ultrasound confirms that all the problems with your baby’s heart are real,” summarized the doctor.

“Why did it happen to our baby? Did I do something wrong?” I asked through tears.

“No one knows why the Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome occurs. As with most congenital heart defects, there is no known cause.”

“Can you tell me more about the surgery?” I asked.

“Sure,” the doctor said. “It is a very complicated open-heart surgery. Eighty-five percent of babies survive the first surgery. Less babies survive the second surgery. And a lot less babies survive all three surgeries. With time, their heart becomes very weak. They require a heart transplant. If they can’t wait long enough for the transplant, they die. Only a few individuals live up to thirty years.”

The doctor paused, and I did not know what to say or ask. What a terrible dilemma for a parent to face. Our baby will die if we don’t do the surgery. But, I also didn’t want my baby to go through the pain of surgery…

“Olga, you may consider an abortion,” the doctor said.

“No,” quickly escaped my lips. “I love my baby so much already. There is no way we can do an abortion. I am also from a Christian family and we know that abortion is a sin. I feel that aborting my baby would be the same as killing him. I can’t do that. His life is in God’s hands. I will give my baby all chances for life, and I know God will help me.”

The doctor looked at me, regretfully. He knew I had no idea what I was facing if I decided to go with open-heart surgeries on a newborn baby.

“I will refer you to a cardiologist,” the doctor said. “They will do an echocardiogram, which will show more details of your baby’s heart. Talk to your husband. You still have time to do an abortion, if you decide.”

I left the doctor’s office and called Oleg.

“The ultrasound confirmed again that our baby’s heart is badly malformed and is not going to change,” I said through tears.

“God will help us, Olga. Please don’t cry,” Oleg tried to calm me with little success.

“I can’t accept it. I don’t want to accept it. Why did God let it happen to our baby? Did we do something wrong? Is He punishing us for something?”

“Olga, we don’t know why it happened. You know we didn’t sin. I don’t think God is punishing us. For some reason, He let it happen and He will help us through it,” Oleg did his best to soothe me.

Until that day, I was hoping that it was a mistake, but it seemed that both Oleg and I were powerless, and that God had failed us. Driving home, I cried out to God, hardly seeing the freeway through tears.

“Why, God, You decided to give us an ill baby? Are you punishing us for something? Show me, what is it? I will do whatever it takes to fix it. I just want our baby to be healthy.”

But God was quiet. I didn’t hear Him answer…

At home, I continued to cry and implore God to heal our baby. I could do this since Oleg was at work and the children were at school. I was home alone. No one could see me cry. After a while, I began to sense a different perspective. I felt as if through our experience with the third pregnancy, God prepared us to better handle the issues in the fourth pregnancy. The doctors predicted that our third child could be born with serious health problems, but he was a healthy baby. Could it happen again? Here we were, facing a decision: the doctors were telling us there was a huge problem and suggesting an abortion; our religious values said we should not do an abortion. How do you decide such a critical question? I knew Oleg and I needed to think and agree, and it had to come from our heart and values.

…….

I knew our situation would be nearly unbearable and that we would need lots of advice, love, help, comfort and support, to be able to deal with this complicated pregnancy. I first turned to my Father. We share a special connection; I know he will always be there for me. His words and guidance come from the heart. When I was a child, I always heard him pray every night and I knew God heard him. My Father also often told us how God healed others through the hands of his Grandfather. I knew we had to pray.

“Dad, our baby’s heart issues are so serious. Can you please pray for us?” I asked my Father.

“Olga, the news is terrifying, but please, take care of yourself,” my Father said. “Don’t worry. God will take care of you and your baby. We will pray, and God will help. I love you, Daughter. Be strong.”

I know Dad worried and wanted to help me. Even though there was little he could do, he could continue loving us and praying for us.

I also called my Mother-in-law to tell her the news and ask her for prayers. She is such a wonderful lady. She tried to calm me down and asked me not to worry, reminding me that often the doctors are wrong. She promised to pray for us.

Next, I called our friends, relatives, co-workers and neighbors, and asked them to pray for us. The illness of our baby did not only add worry to Oleg and me. It affected our whole big family and the people who surrounded us. Everyone questioned why God let it happen. People didn’t know what to tell us or how to comfort us, yet they promised to pray for us.

…….

We sought support and comfort from the ministers of our church. We spoke to them about the serious problems of our baby, expecting prayers and the traditional anointing of the holy oil. Instead, we heard the opposite, “Check your lives. Maybe there is something for which God is punishing you. God doesn’t usually give ill children to Christians.”

Oleg and I were shocked. We expected support rather than more pain. We knew we didn’t sin. We thought God is merciful. Everything comes from God. Nothing is done without His will. It is only God who judges us. Returning home, we prayed asking God to heal our son and to give us strength and understanding to accept His will.

Every day I was in tears. Often, I called my best friend, Katya, with my questions. She knew I needed help.

“Call Pastor Ivan,” she suggested. “He is my cousin, a positive and a knowledgeable person. He will answer your questions.”

One day, when I just couldn’t find peace, I called the Pastor Ivan, whom I had never met. I asked him my questions. His answers were like a breath of fresh air that poured new life and strength into our lives.

“If you don’t feel that you have done anything wrong before God, stop asking for forgiveness,” the Pastor Ivan said. “Praise God for everything He is doing, even for what you don’t understand today. The Bible says that everything comes from God and nothing is done without His will. It was His will to give you an ill baby. Maybe God is preparing you for something. He may do His work through you. Praise God for everything and be patient. It will not last forever. Usually, the sun comes out after a thunderstorm!”

This unexpected word of encouragement strengthened our belief that everything comes from God. Although we did not understand everything, we felt relieved after our conversation with Pastor Ivan. We thanked God that he inspired us and poured in us a positive energy. It's like he gave us life back. In our tormented heart God's peace appeared again, which is above all our thoughts and doubts.

…….

In those days, our church fought for us in prayers. We also turned to different churches and asked them to pray for God to heal our baby. Once young people from a neighboring city came and gave us the prophetic word that they received in a prayer about our situation. It was said that our son will be healed in the mother’s womb! With tears of joy we thanked God. We believed in prophecies and it was what we wanted to hear…

…….

A month after my appointment with the high-risk Obstetrician/Gynecology specialist, I saw a cardiologist. Oleg came with me. We were hopeful that the change would be positive, but the echocardiogram showed no improvement. Our son would still need all the surgeries and spend his early life in the hospital.

“I would recommend you consider an abortion,” said the cardiologist. “The surgery is very complicated, and your baby may not even survive.”

The cardiologist gave us time to think and left the room. She was the third specialist who had recommended abortion. Oleg and I sat hand in hand. I didn’t want our baby to go through the surgery, and I didn’t want him to die either. I knew the abortion was same as killing a person. I couldn’t stop our son’s life.

“We believe in the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, and He will help us,” Oleg said. “There is no way we will do an abortion.”

When the cardiologist came back, we told her our decision and left the hospital. On our way home, we prayed and wondered when God was going to step in and heal our baby. Our faith gave us hope.

Every month we met with the same cardiologist and had echocardiograms, which showed that the problems with our baby’s heart were still there. As the fetus grew older, the option of an abortion would no longer exist. This didn’t matter because we weren’t willing to consider an abortion. Every time, the doctors were telling us how severe our baby’s heart defects were, Oleg and I loved our expected son more and more. We still had that hope that God would heal him.

…….

A normal pregnancy is forty weeks. Unfortunately, at twenty-six weeks, my blood sugar started rising. I developed Gestational Diabetes and didn’t look or feel healthy at all.

“Olga, you need to start eating healthy,” the doctor said. “I will refer you to a dietitian, who will tell you which diet to follow. Olga, you also need to start pricking your finger three times daily to check your blood sugar. I am afraid you may need to start insulin shots soon.”

“I can poke my finger and check the sugar level, but I am so scared of insulin shots. I promise I will do everything possible to keep my blood sugar level in control,” I said.

I have never had Diabetes. I was young and thought it only happened to old people. A week later, my blood sugar was still very high. The idea of shots scared me. I couldn’t imagine giving myself a shot, so I tried even harder to eat healthy. Luckily, my blood sugar level dropped to an acceptable range.

At twenty-eight weeks, my blood pressure began to rise, and I started to retain water. My body seemed to fill up like a balloon, which made me even more uncomfortable. I had a doctor’s visit again.

“Olga, I am worried that you may develop preeclampsia. We may need to hospitalize you,” the doctor said.

“What is preeclampsia?” I asked. “How can I develop it?”

“It is a serious condition, characterized by high blood pressure and protein in the urine. It occurs when the placenta starts functioning improperly. This condition can cause respiratory problems and restriction of your baby’s growth. It can also damage your liver and kidneys. The only cure for preeclampsia is to deliver the baby early.”

“Our baby is sick and now my life and health is in danger? But, there is no way you can hospitalize me. My children need me at home.”

“I hope we don’t have to hospitalize you, but time will tell,” the doctor said.

How do you believe the doctors if you feel fine? In truth, I tried to rationalize the problem away. At home, I tried harder to rest and follow the doctor’s directions, hoping that my blood pressure would not rise.

…….

A week later, I developed a bad headache and just felt awful. I drove to my Mom’s house to check my blood pressure on her machine. It was 167/107. Normal is 120/80. At that time, I was thirty-two years old and had no idea that those numbers were very high for anyone, much less for a pregnant woman. My Mom worried and told me to call the doctor. I called and spoke with a nurse.

“Olga, lay on the left side for one hour and check again,” the nurse instructed. “If the blood pressure does not decrease, go to the emergency room immediately. From such high blood pressure, your baby might die any minute, or you might have a stroke.”

I laid on my left side for an hour. How do you stay calm when you are worried? I didn’t know. I tried, but my blood pressure did not decrease. Oleg came home from work. He and I left the children at my Mom’s house and went to the Southwest Washington Medical Center (SWMC) in Vancouver. After six hours at the hospital, the doctor prescribed me medications to lower my blood pressure and let me go home.

The next day, I was okay and just rested. The following morning my blood pressure was high again, so I called the nurse.

“Olga, get to the hospital as soon as possible because your baby and you can die any minute,” the nurse instructed.

Oleg and I left our three children at my Mom’s house and drove to the Emergency Room. The doctors immediately hospitalized me. They put an IV with medications in my arm to decrease my blood pressure. I felt normal, except for a terrible headache, but what the doctors were telling me made it sound like I was very sick and in a serious trouble.

Oleg stayed with me. He was calm, but worried. Late in the evening, he left to pick up the children and go home. He had to continue caring for our children and supporting our family. I don’t know what he thought or told the children that evening. My Mom told me later that our children were scared and prayed that nothing bad would happen to me and the baby.

…….

My evening at the hospital was quiet. The nurse attached a monitor to my stomach, so the nurse and I could hear my baby’s heartbeat. The medications were working, and my blood pressure decreased slightly. Surprisingly, I was calm and accepted everything as it happened. I now was sure that my life and the life of our unborn son was in danger. I prayed to God for His help. Resting quietly, I read a book and made a few phone calls before I fell asleep.

Luckily, the next morning everything seemed to be okay. I thought I might be able to return home. Unfortunately, a test showed protein in my urine and the doctor said I should stay in the hospital another day. I was really disappointed because my oldest sister Tanya had asked me several months ago to save the date for a baby shower for me that evening. Even though my seven sisters, two sisters-in-law and I knew that our baby was very ill and might not survive, we rarely talked about it. Planning a baby shower for me was a normal process. That is what sisters and friends do for every expectant Mother. Tanya had worked very hard to have a baby shower for me that evening. All the guests were invited. I didn’t want to disappoint her, but now I didn’t think I was going to be able to attend. Surprisingly, later in the day, my blood pressure decreased.

“Olga, I will give you a two-hour pass to go to your baby shower,” the doctor said. “Then you have to come back to the hospital. Be very careful.”

“Thank you!” I exclaimed. “I am so happy you let me go. This means so much to me!”

Maybe the doctor let me go because if she told me I couldn’t go, my blood pressure might rise higher than if I would go. In retrospect, it might seem crazy, but at the time the baby shower was very important to me. Sometimes, we get our priorities mixed up and just do things that in hindsight we would never do.

My friend, Katya, picked me up at the hospital and drove me to the party. The guests were waiting for me at my sister’s house. Her living room was beautifully decorated in lime and brown colors. The sign “It’s a Boy!” hung on the wall and delicious food filled the table. The party was wonderful. My family and friends came to support me. They knew I was ill and they prayed for me. I thanked everyone for coming and told them I had only a two-hour-pass from the doctor. We ate, opened presents and took pictures. My ten-year-old daughter Kristina brought me food, opened the presents for me, and was just happy I was with her. The time flew by quickly.

“Friends, I don’t have time to read your cards,” I said. “But I will read them at the hospital. I promise.”

“It’s okay, Olga. We wish you luck and we will pray for you,” my friends and family answered. They prayed for me. It felt good to be surrounded by loved ones, who wanted our baby to live, and their gifts reflected it.

Happy that I could attend, I returned to the hospital. I was tired and went to bed. The nurse attached the monitor again to my belly. She turned it on every thirty minutes to check the baby’s heartbeat. I felt normal with no pain or headache and fell asleep. At about 11 p.m., a beeping noise woke me up. Frightened, I opened my eyes wide, looked at the monitor and saw that our baby’s heart beat had dropped dramatically from 150 to 56 beats per minute. In panic, I pressed the help button. The nurse ran into my room.

“Olga, turn to your left side!” she instructed.

I did. The baby’s heart beat went up. I calmed down and fell asleep again. In the morning the nurse told me that during the night, my baby’s heart beat had slowed down three more times.

…….

5

Do not be afraid, for God is always with you,

even though you don’t see Him.

The next morning, I called Oleg. This was the first day of school for the new year. Normally, we would drop our children at my Mom’s house. Then the children would ride the school bus to the school near her house and in the afternoon, return for day care. But this year, because of the pregnancy and my plans to stay at home, I had transferred our children to the school nearest our house.

Oleg had no idea what it took to get David, Kristina and Michael ready for school in the morning. I was worried and wanted to know if he had survived, so I called him. He said it was hectic without me at home. He had to get the children ready for school, prepare breakfast and lunch for them, figure out the bus routine and get to work on time. He thought he did okay, but wished I was home to do that. I also wished I had been there to help him, but secretly was glad he now would find out what I did every day.

After talking to Oleg, I sat on my hospital bed and started reading the cards from my baby shower. After reading a few, my eyes paused on the third card:

“How aII the Angels must have smiled

When Jesus chose this newborn Child

For you to love and cuddle, too —

A miracle that's aII for you!”

Tears filled my eyes as I thought, “Why did Jesus choose an ill baby for me?” I felt my baby move… He probably felt my worries and wanted to let me know that everything would be okay.

The doctors came to my room and said, “Olga, it would be better for us to transfer you to Oregon Health and Science University (OHSU) in Portland. They specialize in heart surgeries that your baby would need right after delivery. We worry that your baby might be born early.”

“I still have ten weeks to be pregnant,” I said. “I can’t have my baby today. I just want everything to return to normal and go home.”

“Olga, you will be safer at OHSU. We need your permission to transfer you there.”

“It’s okay,” I said. “You can transfer me there.”

I knew it would be best for me and my baby. I called my husband again and told him the news. Then, I got ready for the transfer.

“Riding in an ambulance is a new experience for me. I am scared because I always associated the ambulance with people who had serious medical problems or were dying,” I told the doctor my concern.

“You will be safe,” the doctor assured me. “Everything will be okay.”

“We need you to lay on the stretcher,” the paramedic said.

“I can walk to the ambulance myself,” I answered.

“Olga, it is for your and our safety. You need to lie on the stretcher.”

I did. They wheeled me out through the halls of the hospital. I didn’t look or feel like I was sick. Someone young like me shouldn’t need to be in a stretcher. I was the center of attention and it embarrassed me.

The ride was smooth with no sirens and no flashing lights. Inside the ambulance, my blood pressure increased and the nurse worried. When we arrived at OHSU, the driver wheeled me out from the ambulance. On a stretcher, I met the faces of new doctors, nurses and patients. Again, I could not believe it was me on that stretcher. Embarrassed, I was ready to hide my face under the blanket.

The paramedics took me to the intensive care room of the delivery unit. Two nurses gave me medications, started IVs, measured my blood pressure, and took blood for several tests. Then, the cardiologist, neonatologist and medical students came to introduce themselves.

The cardiologist said, “Olga, we will try to keep you pregnant as long as possible, because it is too early for your baby to be born.”

“I know. I still have ten weeks to be pregnant. I can’t have my baby born today,” I answered, not even thinking of all the things that can really go wrong…

The nurses monitored the baby’s heartbeat. During the day, the monitor would often beep to show that the baby’s heart rate was dropping and then it would recover. I did not know a lot about Preeclampsia and did not ask many questions because the nurses were busy. They were completing doctor’s orders, trying to decide if I should eat or not. I was very hungry, but had to wait and didn’t know why. Later, I understood that they did not want me to eat before the surgery. They were not sure how soon they might have to do the C-section. I was given a shot with steroids, which was supposed to help our baby’s lungs open, in case he was born early.

In the evening, Oleg and the children came to visit me. The children told me about their first day at school and then asked, “How soon you are coming home, Mama?”

“I hope, very soon,” I said.

“Today after work it took me two hours to read all the papers that our children brought from school,” Oleg said. “I had to sign so many of them and wished you were home to do that.”

I just smiled and said, “It is good for you, honey, to see what mothers usually do, all the things which seem to be easy.”

After about an hour, Oleg and the children left for home. Tired, I fell asleep.

…….

Just before midnight, a worried nurse woke me up.

“Olga, your baby’s heart is stopping about every five minutes,” she said. “The doctors are deciding whether to do the C-section or not.”

Frightened and sleepy, I was trying to wake up and realize what was happening. Three doctors walked into my room.

“Why is my baby’s heart stopping every five minutes?” I asked, confused.

“Your high blood pressure and the protein in your urine is causing your baby’s heart to stop,” the first doctor explained. “His heart defect is not the problem. It is you, Olga, who developed not only preeclampsia, but eclampsia, the final and most severe phase. Your placenta started to secrete substances that can cause dysfunction in your blood vessels. You may start having seizures or go into a coma. It also can damage your liver and kidneys. Both you and the baby can die. Basically, your body is killing your baby.”

“Olga, with his heart defect, your baby has less than 1% chance to survive,” added the second doctor. “You have two options. One is to let the nature take its course and let your baby die. We will induce you and remove the baby from your womb without surgery. The second option is to do an emergency C-section. We would not recommend the C-section because it’s a major surgery and your baby has such a small chance to live.”

Even though the doctors had warned me, I didn’t really believe that it would come to this. Let my baby die? What is happening? Where is Oleg? I need his help and support! I thought.

“Do I have time to call my husband?” I asked.

“Yes, you do,” the doctor answered and stepped out to the hall.

I called Oleg and told him as fast as I could, “Our baby’s heart is stopping every 5 minutes. He is dying. The doctors are asking if we should let him die or do an emergency C-section on me. I need you to come to the hospital as soon as possible, please. I will call my Father and ask him to come and spend the night with our children. I will call you back.”

I quickly called my Father and asked if he could spend the night with our children. My Father said he will and promised to pray for us.

I called Oleg back to ask him what to do, but for some reason he didn’t pick up the phone. I tried again. No answer warned me.

“Where is Oleg? Why he doesn’t answer?” I sat on my hospital bed, confused. Every minute counted. I thought to myself, “How can I say, ‘I am willing to let my baby die?’” Even if he has a 1% chance to survive, I should give it to him. The doctors should do the C-section. Even if my baby does not survive, I will have a scar to remember him by. THERE IS GOD IN HEAVEN, WHO GIVES LIFE AND WHO TAKES IT AWAY. I will give my baby all his chances. I know he will live!”

The doctors came back into my room and asked again, “So, Olga, what have you decided?”

“My husband is on his way here,” I answered with a shaky voice. “Please do the C-section. I will give my baby all his chances for life. God will make that final decision about our baby’s life.”

“Are you sure, Olga? This surgery is a major procedure, which we would prefer not to do on you.”

“Yes, I am sure.”

“Would you like us to save your baby when he is born?” the doctor asked.

“What do you mean?” I asked confused.

“Would you like us to let him die or provide him with breathing help and medications for his heart?”

“I would like you to do everything possible to save his life. God will take his life, if it is time, but I will do everything possible to help our son live.”

The doctors were quiet for a minute and then left the room. They knew what I didn’t want to accept. Only later, I realized if they told me that my baby had no chance for life, I would not be asking them to save him. But because they gave him that 1%, I asked them to save him. I knew miracles happen.

After about thirty-five minutes, which seemed an eternity to me, Oleg was finally with me in the room.

“Olga, I am sorry it took me a while to get here,” he said. “The main entrance door of the hospital was locked, so, the security guard had to let me in through the back door.”

Oleg’s face was pale. Only God knows what my husband experienced.

“I have agreed to the surgery. I want to give my baby all his chances for life,” I said with tears.

“Olga, God will help us. No matter what happens, I just need you alive,” Oleg said, hugging me and trying to hold his tears.

That night I turned thirty weeks pregnant; two and a half months early for our baby to be born. The nurses transported me to the operating room, while Oleg had to stay and change into a surgery outfit. Surprisingly, I felt an unusual peace and knew God was with me during that critical time. I felt like He was gently holding me in His hands with His angels surrounding me. I was doing everything possible to give our baby his chance for life and left the final decision up to God. What more could I do?

When Oleg came into the operating room, the doctor had already made the incision cut for the C-section. Oleg told me later that he had seen blood before, but not that much of it. It made him feel sick when he paused and looked at the surgery.

“Sir, please sit down,” the nurse said.

“I am fine,” Oleg answered.

“You have to sit down,” the nurse repeated.

“I am fine,” Oleg answered again.

“Sir, you have to sit down because you can faint from seeing so much blood and we cannot be responsible for you.”

Oleg sat on the chair next to me, hugged me, kissed me on my head and prayed quietly. The surgery went on for about an hour. I could not see anything behind the curtain, just felt the doctors pushing on my stomach. I felt no pain, no fear and did not cry. I didn’t feel like myself. Usually, I would be so scared, but I was calm. I quietly prayed for God to be in charge and for His will to be done. After about ten minutes, the doctor delivered the baby and asked the nurses to take him to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU). I could not see the baby or hear him cry. Oleg couldn’t tell if the baby was alive. The doctors continued finishing my surgery.

After the surgery, I was taken to the recovery room for one hour. The nurse gave me medications and made sure I was okay. Oleg sat by me and held my hand. Another nurse came and asked if he wanted to go see our newborn son.

My husband left with her and shortly came back.

“Our son is alive!” he said relieved and excited. “Olga, when you called me, I was under the impression that he had already died. All the way to the hospital I cried out to God because I wasn’t sure what was happening. Olga, I was worried about you, too. My son is alive! He is moving his hands! Praise God!”

I only now understood why Oleg hadn’t answered my second phone call. Only God saw his tears and heard his questions. Oleg sat by me, held my hand and kept thanking God that our baby was alive.

“The nurses started medications through an IV for our son’s heart and provided him with breathing help,” he explained. “Our baby is in NICU in a warm incubator.”

I was glad to see Oleg happy, even though he still worried. I was glad to hear that our baby was alive, and the doctors were taking good care of him. But after the anesthesia my mind was foggy, and I was in pain. Thank God, I was in one of the best hospitals in Oregon with good doctors and nurses, taking gentle care of me.

…….

After an hour in the recovery room, I was taken to the Intensive Care Unit for postpartum mothers after a high-risk delivery. The nurses put my surgery bed next to the bed that I was to use in the room and asked, “Olga, can you try to scoot from your bed to the one in this room?”

I tried, but felt terrible pain from the C-section incision. Also, due to the anesthesia, I couldn’t feel my legs at all. It was impossible to move. How do you move, when you don’t feel your legs and experience severe pain? I became scared and started crying.

“I am in lots of pain and can’t feel my legs,” I said.

Oleg offered to help the nurses move me, but they did not let him. They asked for help from a male nurse. They wrapped me in sheets and used them to move me from my surgery bed to the bed in the room. Then, the nurse gave me extra pain medications.

That night there wasn’t a room available with a sleeping couch for Oleg. So, he slept on two chairs, sitting on one and resting his feet on another. I wanted to sleep, but I couldn’t. The anesthesia medications made my whole body itch the minute I began falling asleep. I told the nurse, but she answered that it was a side effect of the medications.

In the morning, a room with a couch became available, so the nurses with my husband’s help transported me there in a wheel chair. Oleg fell asleep on a couch right away. The nurses changed my wound dressing and started magnesium medication through an IV to lower my blood pressure. They were also giving me Ibuprofen and Vicodin to kill the pain. In addition to itching, I felt dizzy and developed a very bad headache. I was still unable to fall asleep.

…….

Oleg slept for only a couple of hours. In the morning the nurse asked if he wanted to go visit our baby again. He was excited for the chance and left with her. When Oleg returned, he brought me a precious gift: he had taken a picture of our baby, so I could see him for the first time.

I loved our son so much and felt so sorry when I saw him. I needed an explanation about all the wires and tubes around him. When the doctor came, she tried to answer my questions, but there was just too much to understand. I wanted to see our baby, but my medical condition prevented this.

After the doctor left, Oleg and I realized how blessed we were to live in the United States with well-educated and skilled doctors, advanced medical equipment and medications. It is amazing how skilled and talented these individuals are, and how much they care. They do more than just their job. They are involved in our lives and work as fellow human beings, who care for other human beings with such strong convictions. They are special, and we are grateful for them.

Oleg and I understood that from then on, our lives would be different, since our baby would be staying at the hospital for a while. Oleg called his Mother in California.

“Mom, our baby has been born very early. Olga had a C-section. The school has started. Someone needs to be home to send David, Kristina and Michael to school and meet them after. Can you please come help us with the children?”

“Yes, of course, I will come,” Oleg’s Mother promised.

My parents continued to help with our children, while Oleg was with me at the hospital. That morning we realized how lucky we were to have parents near us during such critical time.

…….

A nurse brought me an electric breast pump to pump the first colostrum for our baby. I sat up in my hospital bed and started pumping, but didn’t know if my baby would ever drink it. I couldn’t believe this was my new reality. My first three children were all healthy. They were with me in the room after birth and I breastfed them. I knew it was important for our baby to drink colostrum, but he couldn’t yet; he was being fed through an IV. The nurse brought me more bottles and labels. I attached the label to the bottle and the nurse took my milk to NICU to be frozen.

The cardiologist ordered an echo cardiogram of our baby’s heart. With hope, we patiently waited for the results. Soon the cardiologist came back and said, “Unfortunately, the echo cardiogram of your baby’s heart showed that all the predicted problems are still there. Your baby may not survive.”

He gave us a list of our baby’s diagnoses:

Right dominant unbalanced atrioventricular septal defect with large primum ASD;

Second superior secundum ASD;

Inlet VSD;

Hypoplastic left ventricle;

Severely hypoplastic aortic arch with severe coarctation;

Large patent ductus arteriosus;

Ex-30-week premature infant.

We didn’t understand all of the medical terms, but knew there were many problems with our son’s heart. When the doctor left, we were quiet for a while.

“I feel like God doesn’t hear us,” Oleg finally spoke. “Why doesn’t He help us? What about the prophecies that others had told us that God would heal our baby in the womb? Why had individuals prophesied that which is not true?”

Reality set in. Maybe God was stronger in Oleg, because he was still in a supportive role in his trust of God. I, on the other hand, questioned, “How can a loving God do this to my baby? Is it a God I still want to love and believe in?”

“Olga, we need to accept God’s will,” Oleg tried to answer my questions. “People can be wrong. They can tell us things that hurt us. They can prophecise what may not come true, but God is God. We have to believe in Him. He is there. He is alive. He will help us.”

That day was difficult for both of us, but we ultimately decided to accept God’s will and move forward with our lives. We now had a son who would require vast amounts of our attention and care, and somehow, we would have to make accommodations within our and our children’s lives.

…….

6

You never realize how lucky you are with a healthy

child, until you have an ill child.

Our friends and relatives called us, worrying about me and my baby. But that day, I asked for visitors not to come because I couldn’t move, had lots of pain and needed rest. We appreciated our friends’ and relatives’ support. Even too many doctors and nurses kept coming in and out from my room.

When I had a moment, I called my Mother.

“Our baby has been born, but he is very ill,” I broke in tears while talking to Mom.

“Olga, please be strong. I feel your pain, my Daughter, and I wish I could help you, but what can I do? We will be praying. I know God has been healing other people. He will help. We will take care of your children. I will help you with meals. Tell Oleg to stop by any time. I will give him food to eat,” my Mother cried on the other end of the phone, while trying to ease my concerns.

Because of our son’s critical condition, I wasn’t able to breastfeed him or do the skin-to-skin contact. I knew this was important because in my job at WIC that was what I taught new mothers. I knew the skin-to-skin contact would enhance our son’s immune system. It would provide him better oxygenation, better heart rate and better temperature. He was all alone in an incubator, surrounded by wires, tubes and pumps with medications. I knew that the nurses were taking good care of him, but he was my baby and I was missing him. He and I were separated. Surprisingly, I was at peace. Oleg also felt at peace. He stayed with me that whole day and the next night.

…….

By the morning, the anesthesia was no longer affecting my body and the magnesium medication was stopped. The itching ended and, finally, I was able to sleep. I no longer felt dizzy and could walk with the nurse’s help. I was beginning to feel better and thanked God!

I received a phone call from my former co-worker, Kathy.

“Olga, I am coming to visit you!” she said.

At the same time, Oleg received a phone call from his cousin, Eddie.

“I am coming to visit you, brother.”

Eddie and Kathy arrived at about the same time, so Oleg spent time with Eddie and I spent time with Kathy. Kathy brought me two cards, one from her and one from my former co-worker Marge. I started reading them and the words from one of the cards made me cry. It said, “God knows everything you are going through and He will help you…”

Kathy comforted me. It was wonderful to have such friends, who worried about me and brought me cards that showed hope.

“Olga, I would like to see your baby,” Kathy said.

“I haven’t seen my baby myself,” I answered. “I felt so awful yesterday after the anesthesia and all medications, but I feel a lot better today. We can go see my baby together.”

“Walking that far would be impossible for me.”

I looked at Oleg.

“How will I get there? I am on the 14^th floor and our baby is on the 12^th. Is it far?”

“It is pretty far,” Oleg answered. “You will need to take a wheelchair.”

“No way. Wheelchairs are for disabled people. But now I have to use one?”

I wanted to see my baby so much, I complied with the rules and went to the NICU in a wheelchair. Kathy pushed it for me, while Oleg and his cousin walked behind us. We arrived at the NICU.

“Only three healthy visitors can see your baby at a time,” the clerk explained. “No children are allowed, only siblings.”

We signed in and washed our hands all the way up to the elbows. Then we went to the last room at the end of the hall, where the smallest babies were. Because there were four of us, Eddie waited in the hall and then came in after Kathy left. Four doctors were by our son’s bed. The doctors greeted us and told the updates on the baby.

“The last two days we have been worried and didn’t think that your baby would live. But he lives, so we are planning to meet with the surgeon and come up with a care plan for your son.”

After the doctors left, I looked around the room. There were four other raised beds with tiny babies, covered with a glass lid and small blankets. I realized our family was not the only family with problems. There was a baby who was even smaller than our baby. Two nurses were taking care of babies in that room. Some parents sat in the rocking chairs by their baby’s bed. Our son’s bed had a sign on it: “Anischenko Baby” with tiny footprints on it and the baby’s weight and length: 3lb 1 ounce and 14 inches.

With Oleg’s help, I got out of the wheelchair and came closer to the incubator.

“Our baby is so tiny!” surprised, I told Oleg. “David, Kristina and Michael were all 8 pounds at birth. I never imagined that our fourth baby would be only 3 pounds.”

Two rounded windows were on each side of the incubator. The nurse and Kathy were staying next to us.

“Olga, you can open the round windows and put your hands through to your baby,” the nurse explained. “But do not make any strokes. He may not like it. Your baby still needs to be in your womb for more than two months, not being touched.”

I opened the round windows, put my hands on our baby’s head and legs, and looked at his face. He was so beautiful with blond curly hair and looked so much like Oleg. The nurse told us more about his tubes and wires.

“An oxygen tube, taped to baby’s mouth, is going down into his lungs to help him breathe. The sensors on his chest check his oxygen, pulse, heartbeat and body temperature. The umbilical intravenous line is inserted though his belly button, so we can draw blood for labs. The PICC line (a prolonged IV) is inserted in his hand, so we can send in nutrition and medications.”

There was a tiny diaper on my baby and, luckily, his legs had nothing attached to them. Everything seemed beyond our control. Seeing our baby with the tubes scared me.

“It is real. What do we do now?” I asked my husband.

Oleg hugged me tight. I wanted to hold our newborn son and have some quiet time with him, but it wasn’t possible. I felt a strange wave of emotion like he was mine, but at the same time not mine. I tried so hard to control my feelings and to not cry. “This is serious. We and our baby are in deep trouble,” I thought.

“Your baby has jaundice, a medical condition with yellowing of the skin and whites of his eyes, arising from excess of the pigment bilirubin,” the nurse said. “We need to turn on the special light that will help his jaundice go away. I need to cover your son’s eyes with black glasses, close his incubator and keep him under the lights.”

Oleg and I stepped aside. I didn’t want to leave our son, but due to my pain, we returned to my room for more medications. I needed rest, and it was time for me to pump more milk. Tears rolled down my cheeks and I couldn’t say a word to Oleg, who laid quietly on the couch with his own tears.

When I calmed down, I called my sister, Luda. One of her children was also born premature.

“Olga, I know what you are going through,” she said. “I feel your pain.”

We both talked and sobbed. It was easier to talk with someone who had had similar experience and understood. I was so grateful for my sister’s support.

…….

In the afternoon, Oleg brought David, Kristina and Michael to visit me and meet their baby brother.

“Mom, why did the doctor cut your stomach? How big is your cut?” Michael asked, scared.

“The baby would have died if the doctors had not cut my stomach,” I answered. “The cut is about five inches long.”

“Did it hurt, Mom?”

“No, it did not, because the doctors used numbing medications during the surgery,” I answered. “But it hurt after the surgery and it hurts now.”

“How long it will take to heal?” Kristina asked.

“About two weeks. I will need to be very careful when I come home. You guys will need to help me a lot.”

“Mom, we will help you.” Kristina laid by me on my hospital bed and hugged me.

“Why was the baby born early?” David asked.

“Because Mom’s blood pressure raised very high,” Oleg answered. “Mom has some health problems. We need to take good care of Mom.”

“How soon will you and the baby come home?” David asked.

“I will come home after about four days, but the baby will stay at the hospital for a while. He needs a surgery on his heart.”

The children were sad. Even children know that heart surgery is serious. They had no more questions. We were all quiet. After getting the information they wanted and seeing that I was likely to be okay, they just turned the TV on and watched cartoons. How much could we expect from our children? David was the most concerned, but Kristina and Michael, because of their age, didn’t understand much.

After spending a few minutes with me, the children wanted to see their baby brother. We thought they could handle it. Seeing the wires and tubes, attached to the baby, the children were scared because they didn’t understand what was happening. They knew that their brother was in a trouble and that he was sick. They didn’t want him to die. This was the first time they ever experienced the possibility of death. Oleg explained the problems with the baby’s heart and asked our children not to be scared, but to pray for God to help their baby brother.

…….

That afternoon, the doctor came and told us, “During the meeting of cardiologists, neonatologists, surgeons and medical students, we decided to delay your baby's open-heart surgery until he weighs at least five pounds. We think medications will enable his heart to keep working until he has grown larger and stronger, which will give him a better chance for success. We will feed him intravenously and let him grow, while keeping his heart duct open with medications. We will also continue providing oxygen to help him breathe. Your baby will stay at the hospital at least two months before the surgery and few more months after the surgery.”

Hearing the doctors’ long-term plan, Oleg and I understood that our son would not be coming home any time soon. We had to decide how our family would manage these changes for many weeks to come.

“Have you decided on a name for your son?” the doctor asked.

“Not yet,” I answered.

For a parent, whose baby is born healthy, the most important thing is to give him or her a name. But for us at that moment the most important thing was for our baby to live, not his name.

“During one of our meetings, one of the doctors called your son the “Russian Prince”, the doctor said. “While you are still deciding on his name, would it be okay for the doctors to use that name for now?”

I liked the doctors calling our son the Russian Prince.

“Yes,” I answered. “He deserves it.”

“During this week, we will need to perform many blood tests on your three-pound son,” the doctor continued. “He may become anemic and a blood transfusion may be necessary. Is that okay with you?”

We had no choice and signed the consent.

“Finally, some good news,” the doctor said. “Your baby is stable, so he can start having breast milk through a feeding tube!”

Oleg and I were so relieved to hear the news and thanked God.

…….

On Saturday, friends and family with beautiful flowers and gifts visited us. We couldn’t walk everyone to see our baby. With some we just talked, prayed and hoped for the best.

Tanya was the first one of my siblings to see our son. When we came to the NICU, the lid of his incubator was raised, and the nurse was changing the dressing on his arm. Our baby’s eyes were covered with black glasses, but he was awake and moved his arms. We could not hear his voice due to the breathing tube in his mouth, but we could see it by the look on his face and by the way he was breathing that he was very upset. He cried without noise. Quietly, Tanya and I stood by his bed, trying to withhold our tears. My heart ached from not being able to help our son. Tanya didn't ask a lot of questions, but later I heard she cried after leaving the hospital, because she saw how fragile and ill our baby was.

A little later, my brother, Leo, came to visit us with his wife and children. They brought snacks and presents. While I was talking to Leo’s wife, I heard my husband tell Leo, “Being home with the children without my wife has not been easy. I had to clean, cook, send children to school, figure out their school bus stop, read all their school papers, wash their clothes. It is hard to be home without my wife. She does so much. I realized how hard it is to be a single Dad.”

Later I learned that Leo was calling everyone in our family, asking them to fast and pray for our fragile son.

…….

Oleg met his Mom at the airport. His brother and sister helped her arrange the flight and paid for her ticket. Oleg’s Mom was planning to stay with us for two weeks. We knew that she would take wonderful care of David, Kristina and Michael. Most importantly, she would give them lots of love. We were so thankful for our family’s help. It amazed us how one event could impact the hearts and actions of so many people and they were all ready to help. We began to realize that what was happening to us and our baby not only affected our immediate family, but impacted our extended family, friends, relatives, neighbors and co-workers. They all understood our pain and tried to help.

…….

Sunday, the third day after delivery, I woke up at 5 a.m. and pumped the milk. Since Oleg was still sleeping, I decided to take the milk to our baby. This was a big deal. I had never walked there by myself before. Holding onto the wheelchair, I slowly walked to the NICU.

“Good morning, Olga,” the nurse greeted me. “You are here early today!”

“Good morning,” I said, happy to be there.

“We have good news for you!” she continued. “Your son’s milk dosage has increased from one to two milliliters! He is doing well!”

I was so happy to hear good news! Through the little incubator’s windows, I could touch my baby’s head, legs and hands. He seemed to be sleeping.

“Olga, have you decided on a name for your baby?” the nurse asked.

“We have not decided yet,” I answered. “I am sorry. I need to talk to my husband about that.”

I spent about an hour by my baby and returned back to my room. Oleg already woke up.

“I have great news for you, honey!” I said. “Our baby can tolerate more milk!”

“That’s great!” Oleg exclaimed.

“We need to give him a name. The nurse asked me about it again.”

“Okay. What names do you like?” Oleg asked me.

“I like Jacob, Elijah, Aaron and Nickolas, but I feel that Elijah would fit our baby the most. It is a Biblical name, which means “My God is Jehovah”. What do you think?”

“I like the name Elijah,” Oleg said.

“Our son has a very serious heart defect and his life will not be easy for him. I think the name Elijah would suit him the best,” I said.

On the birth certificate, that day we wrote:

Elijah Joseph Anischenko

The baby of Oleg and Olga Anischenko,

Born on September 9, 2010.

Oleg visited Elijah and spoke with the doctors. Then he went home to spend some time with our children and his Mother. I had a lot to do: return phone calls, pump and take my milk to Elijah, take my medications and choose healthy foods to eat. My blood sugar and blood pressure were both elevated. Most importantly, I needed to rest and recover.

…….

At about 1:00 P.M., I heard a knock at my door and saw the worried faces of my parents. They hugged me and kissed me.

“It all will be okay, my Daughter,” my Mom said.

“I love you so much,” my Father added and hugged me.

It felt good to feel the love of my parents. I smiled through tears.

“We named our baby Elijah,” I told my parents. “He is your 20^th Grandchild.”

“We would like to meet him,” Mom said.

I got up, sat in a wheelchair and my Father pushed it with his left hand, his only hand. When we came to the NICU, my parents didn’t say much, just asked some questions. Most of the time, they looked at the baby quietly and breathed in deeply. The nurse took a picture of us. Then, we returned to my room.

“Olga, it is very difficult for me to say this, but please, let God do His work,” my Father spoke, “Elijah is very ill. It would be not easy for him if he was ill all his life. It would be better for him to be with God. If you had only called me when you were in labor, I would’ve told you not to save the baby. Please, don’t ask God to leave him here with you. Ask God to either heal him, so he would be healthy, or let God take him to Heaven.”

When I heard my Father speak, words got stuck in my throat and I almost choked. I knew my Father was speaking the truth as he knew it, but we had already made a decision and the baby was already here.

When I was finally able to speak, I answered to my Father, “That is exactly how I am praying, Dad. For some reason, Elijah is still here, and God gives him life. I feel God has plans for him. It is God, who will decide if Elijah will live or not. But it is our choice to give Elijah every chance for life.”

Mom and Dad spent a little more time with me, prayed for me and left to go home. It was hard for me to hear my Father speak at that time. Today I respect my Father even more for willing to express his honest opinion. Upon reflection, I understand now how difficult this must have been for my Father, who loves me dearly and whom I also love so much.

…….

After about an hour, I heard another knock at my door. My sisters, Irena and Luda, came to visit me.

“Olga, our dear sister, we love you so much,” Lyuda said and hugged me on my shoulder.

“We brought you flowers and freshly prepared, homemade food,” Irena added and gave me a big hug.

“Thank you so much,” I answered. “Would you like to go see Elijah?”

“Yes, of ‘course!” my sisters answered.

I sat in a wheelchair and Irena pushed it for me. Those were special moments for me. I felt loved and well cared for by my family. They did for me what I could not do for myself and I appreciated that. My sisters were excited to see Elijah.

“Olga, he is so beautiful, but I can’t believe how small he is,” Irena said.

“I am so sorry, Olga,” Lyuda said and hugged me tight.

My sisters looked at Elijah through tears. I stood next to Elijah’s bed and was able to put my hands on his head and legs. Elijah was lying still. His eyes were covered with black glasses and we didn’t know if he was asleep. My sisters asked me some questions and took pictures of us. Then it was time for them to go home. I took my hands off Elijah. He started crying, but could not make any noise, as he still had a breathing tube in his mouth. Immediately, I put my hands back on his head and his legs, and he settled down. Apparently, during pregnancy, babies can hear sounds from the womb. Elijah knew my voice and when I again removed my hands, he started to cry again. Eventually, my sisters and I had to leave.

“I will come back, my sweet little baby,” I said through tears. “Mommy is in pain and needs to take her medications. I love you. You will be okay.”

Elijah calmed down. It was heart-breaking for me to leave him all alone in his tiny incubator.

…….

Soon, Oleg came with our children and his Mother. Oleg’s Mom hugged me.

“How are you, Olga?” she asked.

“I am okay. Thank you for coming to help us,” I answered with tears on my eyes.

After spending some time with me, Oleg took his Mom to see Elijah. When they came back, Oleg’s Mom kept repeating, “Oh, God, please help my fragile Grandson.”

Later Oleg told me that his Mom cried when she saw our tiny and very ill son, her ninth Grandchild. After about one hour, Oleg took his Mother and children home, and then returned to the hospital. Grandmother was taking good care of our children.

Later that evening, my Mother-in-law called me and read the poem that her friend wrote. The last verse was so promising:

The years will pass and take its course,

We will remember this day of course –

For Mom and Dad – a very hard decision,

For heaven and for earth — Elijah’s day of birth!

Tears filled my eyes. “God, please make it a good ending,” I prayed. “So many people already know about Elijah and are praying for him. Please make a miracle and heal Elijah. Show us Your glory!”

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