Margarita Reznik
Women are not unicorns
I cried, it’s true, I cried for a total of two hours during the entire two weeks after the incident, sparingly, not out loud, without attracting attention from the outside. I didn’t even allow my husband to sympathize with me much, but rather comforted him myself. This is why he appreciates me. For perseverance and courage.
However, this minus can be turned into a plus. Broken arrogance, a sense of self-superiority, turned into love and understanding of women.
I'm just like you. Nothing better.
My friend lost her child after giving birth, what a tragedy. For nine months she and her husband waited for their princess. A beautiful young couple, a perfect pregnancy, a strong-willed girl, a neat tummy.
Love even dived into an ice hole at Epiphany while she was in her sixth month. She looked like something from the cover, tall, without stretch marks, without excess volume, healthy and happy. Her husband doted on her, he made a crib, furnished an apartment for the arrival of a new family member, literally fluttered with happiness, there was so much love and admiration in his stories that we all wished them the best.
Three months later, we were shocked by the news that the girl died on the second day after birth. Some kind of vice, not related to diving into an ice hole, toxoplasmosis from the cat with whom Lyubov lived throughout her pregnancy, not related to any obvious reason.
That's what the doctors said.
This was a real tragedy. This, and not my frozen pregnancy. Yes, that's what the doctors called her before the self-abortion happened.
I didn't suffer.
The guys were grieving. But let me tell you, they are tough nuts to crack too. They can't be broken.
I saw them a month after the tragedy and didn’t recognize them. They joked and laughed, hugged and supported each other. Drugs, antidepressants, psychologist, alcohol, hypnosis, mutual madness? Nothing out of this. The guys suffered their due and moved on, hand in hand, only forward, not knowing fear and sadness.
This is how I see the right attitude towards life. Don't be a victim. Cry it all out and move on with your life.
Are there worse situations?
Oh yeah.
I delivered a baby (when I was in medical practice) from a woman who knew that the baby was dead.
She was informed that due to toxoplasmosis (an infection transmitted mainly from cats), the baby died in her womb right before giving birth.
She was persuaded not to stitch the uterus by Caesarean Section, but to give birth herself.
Give birth to a corpse yourself!
Can you imagine?
This is some kind of trash.
For three days they induced her, dilated her cervix, and prepared her for spontaneous childbirth.
She was experiencing contractions, quite normal labor, but she knew that there would be no gift after permission.
Did this woman cry when we delivered the fetus? No. Not anymore. She felt worse. Mental pain tore her apart from the inside. She was also ashamed in front of the staff. She considered herself an impostor, wasting the resources of public health care, because she was not giving anyone to the world. We tried to encourage her that this is our job, life does not end here, she will still give birth to a healthy baby.
I don’t know what happened to this woman later. Apparently she recovered. I hope, I want to believe in it. If you are reading my book, dear patient of the Petrozavodsk perinatal center, then know that I sincerely regret your loss, and you can also write to me – now I know more ways to cope with mental suffering than before. Then, alas, I could not help you.
Working together with a neurologist, I saw different children: cerebral palsy, autism, microcephaly, and so on. These diagnoses are tied to mother and child for life, and only they know what it really feels like.
I can only give confirmation of your courage. And wish you never stop loving your children, caring for them and protecting them.
I once decided for myself that it would be better to never experience the joy of motherhood than to give birth to a sick child. Forgive me for my words, but I openly declare this, without hiding anything from you, without hiding anything, because we must be honest with each other.
Therefore, finishing this chapter, I am revealed to you, you can judge me. But this is the final decision for now. Sorry, Mr. President, but I will not fulfill the government order if I think that I have a risk of giving birth to an unhealthy child.
So far, my plans do not even include testing this hypothesis. I already wrote above that I want to realize myself first. I plan to achieve my big goals before I become a mother.
And if this drags on for years, and my fertility comes to an end, then alas, then there will be no children in this life, just me and you, and my love for you.
Besides, I'm lying a little. I already have a “child”. My nephew. When, at the age of thirteen, I found out that my sister was pregnant, it seemed to me that this was the greatest happiness in the world. We lived together then, she gave birth without a husband, and I fell in love with this baby. After school, I ran home to my pregnant sister, we walked for hours, I sewed hats, rompers and knitted booties. It seems to me that I already decided that this was my child and I still think so. I've invested a lot in this guy. He is nineteen, he is handsome, smart, kind, incredibly talented, but he just doesn’t know it yet. So yes, I already have a child that I didn’t give birth to, but we are very close. By the way, I was named his godmother, so dear Sir, I already shot, just in case.
“Existential crisis – I haven’t achieved anything in my life.”
On the third of October last year I met an attractive man. Blogger, handsome and incredibly charismatic guy.
No, you misunderstood, no flirting, only admiration as a person.
He told an interesting story about his life, he is thirty-three and a couple of years ago his life changed dramatically. He was an advanced photographer, even a bigwig in the modeling business, and everything was going pretty well, the money was flowing like a river, until one day he and his partner were pinned against the wall by guys with pistols, and it was all over.
The guys went in different directions and sat quietly until everything calmed down. Money, influence, a beautiful life instantly turned into a reclusive life at parental expense.
– Did you like your life?
– Despite all the luxury, no.
– Why?
– I have not self-actualized.
– What about photography? You were creative, weren't you?
– I wanted to benefit people. But there was something borderline there that did not inspire me.
I understand him. There are things in which you see yourself as the wrong piece of a puzzle. It seems that everything is fine and you are doing great, but you are not in the right place. It's like cracking nuts with a digital microscope, the result is incomparable, but the device is not used for its intended purpose.
We then sat together mentally. It was my birthday, and by chance on this day a popular blogger arranged a meeting with fans in a cafe. My husband and I decided that this would be the best gift for my holiday.
Daniel talked about how, living in his home for several months, he thought about life, searched for himself, shot and edited videos, tried to post them on YouTube, but lacked confidence.
And one day his wise mother said: “My dear son, the time has come for you to stop, stop doing what you need and look at what you want. There is no need to chase ideals and stereotypes. There is no need to work for food and shelter. I'll give you as much of it as you need. You are incredibly talented and I will support you throughout your journey of self-discovery. Please find the meaning of life. And be happy."
“And I started looking. Now I was confident in what I was doing. YouTube video? Please, only the best, necessary, useful, following all algorithms for maximum coverage. And away we go"
These are his words, not exact, but that's the idea.
There was someone in his life who solved the basic problems of existence, what to eat and where to sleep. And the guy, instead of playing computer games, turned himself into a star (I’m not afraid of this word). Within two years he became popular and supported himself again.
And do you know what the difference is from the previous state? Self-realization.
This is what I want to talk about today.
“You talk about this the whole book. Change the record?"
Oh no, no. I won't bother you with my tediousness. Just ask yourself: Are you a digital microscope that cracks nuts?
One day I discovered that I was so handsome. A shiny metal device with several lenses, advanced digital optics inside, perfectly accurate readings of the sizes of all ciliates and atoms, which someone holds in his hands and hits the hard shell with all his might.
Who's holding me?
I myself, mother, change my mind. (This expression is difficult to translate into other languages).
Me and no one else! Oh my God! Is there really no puppet master, system or nasty conspiracy theory masons who are manipulating me and preventing me from fulfilling my dreams?
Yeah. (I nod with my eyes wide open and a tight smile).
Ladies, there is no one but the fictitious villains in our heads. Tyrant husband, authoritarian mother, totalitarian government? They are scary only when we allow them to command our minds.
Have you seen the film “Escape from Pretoria” about the overthrow of apartheid? Highly recommend. Even though it is about men, we are all human and we are all equal.
So, cast aside your fears. And admit it:
A woman is a person, not a rib.
A woman is a person, not a unicorn.
A woman is a person, not the weaker sex.
On that day, the day of my thirty-second birthday, I realized my existential crisis. Everything was fine with me, I had already achieved the life that I had been striving for all my adult life. It's time to make your childhood dreams come true.
What did you want to be as a child? About two years?
You weren’t thinking about your husband, children, house, car back then. Have you thought about your vocation? About the role you will be happy in when you grow up. I’m not talking about a later age, when it’s already been explained to you what’s what.
I'm talking about two years, the first days of your speech and expression of thoughts into intelligible words.
Do you know who I wanted to be? Astronaut.
Then also an actress and writer.
See! Everything is very prosaic. Who among you hasn't wanted to be an astronaut, raise your hand!
Yeah, gotcha? Why should we all fly to the moon now?
Why not?
Nowadays, space flights have become a reality for ordinary citizens. Yes, the prices are fabulous and there are few volunteers, but it is possible.
Actress? Ugh, that's a piece of cake. You just have to work hard on yourself, endure criticism and break through.
Writer? Already.
What Wikipedia says about existential crisis.
An existential crisis is a state of anxiety, a feeling of deep psychological discomfort when questioning the meaning of existence. Most common in cultures where basic needs for survival have already been met.
Well, that is, you know, they got FUCKED. I can just hear the sarcasm of stand-up comedians on this topic. Like, why are you tired, children in Africa have nothing to eat? What meaning in life are you looking for when the air in India is dirtier than smoke?
These are wonderful words, especially from the lips of people who have realized themselves. They tell us folk morality from the stage, but are they sages?
Look, I'm not a promoter of psychological diagnoses, on the contrary, existential crisis be damned. Simply, if you are bored with the routine, if you are sad from constancy, if nothing else makes you happy and you are tired of living like this, then try my method.
Let me remind you, ask yourself what you wanted to be at two years old.
“President,” said my husband. “But I don’t want to now, God forbid.”
But they didn’t ask the boys, I’ll answer, picking my nose and trampling the sand under my sandal.
It’s easier for men; you have a little more chance and willpower to realize your desires.
Girls, women, girls, my dears, the only and main message that I convey throughout this book is -
“It’s being yourself. Be brave and move towards your dreams."
I’m now just on the way to them, I already have some experience behind me, but I’m still searching. And I'm moving towards my goals. I care, my life is clay from which will be what I mold.
Your clay is in your hands.
Create what seems ideal for you. Even if at first you decide that all this is nonsense, and there is no point in flying in the clouds. Just keep going.
Come with me. And a reward called “happiness” will definitely follow.
With love, Your Margarita.
PS: Due to the fact that I did not ask the majority for permission to publish their personal lives, all names in this book have been replaced. Sorry.
