By Lesya Litvinova
Translated and edited by Voices of Ukraine
Today, I have a little holiday.
My Varenka [diminutive from Varvara] turned a week old. The first tiny birthday.
I want to say ‘thank you’ to her. If she weren’t in my life–a lot of things would have gone differently.
She has suffered enough from me this winter. I must have been a very bad mother. I ate little, slept little, cried a lot, and froze even more, often forgot that I was not alone, carried heavy loads, was at the wheel for days, inhaled gas on Hrushevskiy Street, delivered gas, tires, and wood by car, hid the wounded at home and realized what could happen to me for all this. Forgive me, my little daughter!
On December 1 of last year , I was very afraid that someone could push me into the crowd of thousands at the first Viche.
By the end of December I was just afraid to get clubbed in the stomach. It was just some non-stop haunting nightmare.
In January, I has to turn off the phones and move to a friends’ place–the police watched my house for several days. This is when I got scared for the first time that my daughter could be born not at home, but in a detention center.
By February, I was not afraid of anything. Probably there is a threshold of fear beyond which nothing remains.
Forgive me, Varenka. I wasn’t afraid to lose you anymore, I was in a whole-hearted despair realizing that you could still see this turbulent world.
I was comforted by one thing–that in any case we would be together–in this life, or in afterlife. You older sisters and brother didn’t have this opportunity–they moved away to live with their grandmother. And every time I ran over to see them, I would bid them farewell on departure as if it was for ever.
By the end of February, I learned the funeral service and “Plyve Kacha” [Ukrainian folk song about losing loved ones to war] by heart. These inundated everything, without leaving any room for lullabies. Forgive me, baby, I will recall them.
You were born in a turbulent country. I don’t know what it will be like when you grow up. I can hardly imagine its future borders. But I’m absolutely sure that you and I did everything in our power to make this country better. We moved a huge and backbreaking boulder. Together. Thank you, baby daughter!
Grow faster, my flesh and blood. I need to tell you so much… No one will probably ever understand me as well, as you…
I will try my hardest to be a good Mom to you.
I love you so very much!
Source: Lesya Litvinova FB
Reblogged this on Euromaidan PR and commented:
Pregnant on Maidan
Thank you for all you did and still do!! Your child will be proud of you!!
My thoughts and prayers are with you and your little one! Can you write me? I’d like to send your baby some peace music from here in the USA. I am Daria, but you can call me Dasha…
My e-mail is dariamusic at yahoo dot com