The boy grew up and began to ask about his father. Mom told the story that dad was a scout, now on a mission... Stories about childbirth: an incredible story for Mother's Day "Mother's Day" in Russia

The last Sunday of November has arrived. Everyone knows that on this day mothers are congratulated on Mother's Day! And we were so looking forward to this day. We are me and my sister Ilona. At school and in kindergarten, we were preparing gifts for mom.

On Sundays, mom likes to sleep a little longer than usual. On weekdays she has a lot to do and different worries. You need to cook, clean, wash, go to the store, work out with us and solve work-related issues. Sometimes mom is so tired that she doesn’t even have the strength to read. Before going to bed, we always read with my mother.

We sat quietly so as not to wake up mommy. When mom opened her eyes, we began to congratulate her. They kissed, hugged... I gave a card that I made at school and a portrait of my mother, which I drew in art school (it turned out very similar). Ilonochka gave me a drawing. And dad has a big bouquet of roses. Mom loves roses very much!

Then we invited my mother to a restaurant, but she did not want to leave the house. On such days she is always sad because she does not have a mother. My mother's mother died before I was born. Her name was Ilona. Mom says that she would be a very good grandmother, because she loved children very much...

Still, we persuaded my mother to go to the restaurant. But first, she said, we need to congratulate Grandma Vera. Grandma Vera is my dad’s mom, and it’s her holiday too.

Granny lives in the village and works amateur performances. Together with their friends, they organize gatherings with handicrafts, have tea parties, and sing songs.

So, grandma told dad that they were planning a holiday concert at the club. And we decided to congratulate grandma at the holiday. We bought her flowers and left. A lot of people gathered, almost all of them were local residents. Grandma was very pleased to receive congratulations.

For dinner we went to a restaurant. The restaurant is located outside the city and there are few people there, and this makes it calm and cozy. And in general, this is not just a restaurant, but an entire recreation center, with guest houses, gazebos and stables.

After dinner, we fed the local dogs. We even came up with names for them: Yoko and Pirate, in fact their names are different.

The day was simply wonderful. I really love our family weekends and dinners together. I love my mom. She is beautiful and kind. Sometimes, of course, he scolds. But still, he says that he loves us, even when he scolds us. Mom also cooks delicious food. I have a very good mother...

When I was about 8 years old, I slept with my mother. She bent her knees and pressed me to her, saying: “Sit on the chair.” It was a magical feeling of calm and security! So I fell asleep. Now I’m 36. I also hug my one-year-old daughter. I just enjoy it!

My mother and I live in different parts of the city. And it so happened that I caught chickenpox and was sitting at home. My mother did not have chickenpox, so she cannot treat it - so as not to wear green paint later. Today I wake up to the doorbell ringing. No one. Hanging from the handle is a bag of jam and a thermos with a piece of paper on it: “Daughter.”

My blood pressure jumped up very strongly, it’s bad, I can’t get up. Mom came running to me, all scared, calling an ambulance. She is asked questions: “Name of the patient?” Mom shouts to me: “What is your last name?” Next: “How old?” Mom again: “How old are you?” When my mother answered the question of who she was sick with, laughter from the receiver came to me! She was worried :)

As a child, I lived in Novosibirsk. Winter. The cold is bitter. The kindergarten is far away: first by bus and several stops by tram. In the evening, literally getting out of the crowded transport and pulling me out of there, my mother discovered that I was wearing only one felt boot, the second one remained in the crowded bus. My mother carried me home in her arms and was very worried that my leg would freeze, so she wrapped it in something. I myself have been a mother of two children for a long time. And such tenderness and gratitude flows towards your mother...

I work as a children's doctor in a clinic. The other day a 12-year-old boy came, unaccompanied by his parents. He told him everything: what he was sick with, how he was treated, what certificates he needed and where he needed them. Very clear, to the point. It is not allowed to conduct an examination without the presence of parents, but I, a kind soul, discharged the guy anyway.

An hour and a half later, my mother came and said that in fact she teaches children to be independent from childhood: she sends them to the clinic or school, and she secretly follows them, like a spy, so that they don’t get lost and no one bothers them. She is very worried that if something happens to her, they themselves will not be able to cope with something.

Eh, I was little then, 4–5 years old, or even younger. They took me for vaccinations. And the nurse told me: “If you don’t cry, you’ll get soft toy" (And the toys were so beautiful, little animals.) This is how my trips to the doctor for vaccinations went. I never cried again, I received so many toys.

And only recently did I find out, at the age of 20, that my mother secretly gave these toys to the nurse, having agreed with her in advance. This has been the system for 5 years :)

This happened while I was serving. I drove the deputy minister, and that day we met several delegations from all over the world. In short, I didn’t sleep for days. And then the last trip to the airport, the fly was snoring nearby, and I fell asleep. And I dream that I am at home and my mother wakes me up for school. First quietly, and then persistently. I open my eyes and a concrete fence is rushing towards me. Fire and fire! The steering wheel turned sharply to the left and missed the fence. Whatever you say, there is something above!

It so happened that I broke up with my loved one. We were together for 4 years, the pain of parting was inhuman, I howled into my pillow every night. But I learned one great lesson from this situation. Mom is always there. Mom calls from work, makes appointments for massages, haircuts, manicures, takes her to museums, and doesn’t let her die. Mom is always in touch. And she understands everything. Doesn’t ask sympathetically, like girlfriends: “How are you?” She knows what's bad, even though I don't say anything.

The relationship with my mother is difficult: one day it’s peaceful, one day we’re at war. We walked past a bank with a Rottweiler tied to a post. Suddenly he rushes barking right at us, and in a split second my mother covered me with herself, pushing me behind my back. Instinct: she saved the child with herself. The dog didn’t get off the leash, but the mother says that she didn’t even have time to think, it just happened.

This is the best proof for me that, no matter what, she is a mother and loves me more than anything in the world. Because if anything happens, she will cover me with herself.

The other day my mother told a story. She has been working as a kindergarten teacher for more than 30 years. About 20 years ago there was a girl in her group, Katya, whom my mother really liked, she said she was so pretty, smart and obedient. Mom was always touched when she looked at her. Katya liked the boy Sashka, who was a kindergarten bandit. Classics of the genre. An obedient beauty falls in love with a local bully)) The teachers noticed this and helped Katya spend time with Sashka in every possible way, fed them together, sent them to play together, even put her to bed next to her and watched as Katya, half asleep, hugged Sashka. Naturally, Katya talked about Sashka to her parents, talked about how much she loved him. Everyone laughed, of course, what can kids understand about love? Never mind! Katya’s parents wondered what kind of Sashka he was. And so, when we picked up our daughter from kindergarten, we met Sashka and his parents. The children grew up, went to school, ended up in the same class... Why did I decide to write this story? Why did my mother remember this story and tell me? Yes, it’s simple: recently Ekaterina and Alexander’s little daughter was brought to her mother’s kindergarten. Yes, yes, those same ones. It seems like everything is starting all over again))

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Hello, dear visitors of this site, this is my first time writing, so don’t judge strictly.
– I couldn’t sleep for a long time that night, I lay there, looking at the ceiling, you were all already asleep, the time was somewhere around 12 o’clock at night. Suddenly I see a picture: our grandfather is walking, as if alive in the flesh, and is carrying a teapot (he generally liked to drink tea with us). In short, he puts the kettle on the stove, and at that moment all the burners light up at once, the room becomes completely light. I’m lying there, I can’t move my leg or arm, I’m kind of in a daze, I want to scream, but I can’t, I’m lying and watching all this. With some incredible effort, I managed to move the tip of my toe, and then everything disappeared, as if the wind had blown out all the burners. I woke up my husband, told him everything, but he just twirled his finger at his temple. I got up, went to the stove, touched the kettle, and the bottom was hot! Although we didn't drink tea before going to bed. Grandma, naturally, didn’t believe it either, but for the time being...
Around the same time, somewhere within 40 days, she ran to her mother and said that he was walking around the room and even tried to pull off the blanket from her! Here's the story.

Recently it was Mother's Day. And I'm there too. I did not become a mother right away and with difficulty.

I had my first child easily and quickly at the age of twenty. But he failed to be born alive. Something went wrong.

Until six months of pregnancy, everything was like everyone else. And excellent analyzes and a wonderful mood of anticipation. And then ultrasound suddenly appeared in our city of Guryev. It hasn’t happened before, but we’ve already read about it. Yes, and we were familiar with the principle of operation of an echo sounder, in this ultrasound it is almost the same. And then the only doctor was Martynov, the kingdom of heaven, who had already died.

Not everyone was given a referral for an ultrasound. More precisely, they didn’t give it to anyone just like that. Either go to the maternity hospital, or through connections. I decided to give it a try. At that time, Aunt Masha worked as a nurse in my maternity hospital. Once upon a time we lived in a chemical village in the building of an old one-story Kazakh school, my mother worked in school No. 7, and my mother’s daughter studied in my mother’s class. Well, why not blat?

I went to the maternity hospital and asked to call Aunt Masha. So and so, I say, I want to find out the sex of the child. I had no other interests. I needed to know for sure whether it was a boy or not. And Aunt Masha says: “Wait, I’ll ask you now.” And she went to ask. But he doesn’t want anything. And he has no people. And I’ve already dragged myself into the corridor and hear Aunt Masha persuading him. Then he comes out and asks: “What do you have?” And I have nothing. Just a bottle of kefir. I bought kefir for my husband on the way. She said: “Give me your kefir here,” and looked at me reproachfully. I went to persuade him with kefir. He probably loved kefir. Persuaded.

Martynov agreed, but was terribly dissatisfied. He quickly determined the gender, and then became gloomy and said:

“You better not give birth. The child has severe disabilities. In fact, people don’t live with such deviations. He should have died by now.”

Then I heard the word “anencephaly” for the first time. But how could I believe? The child moved normally, jumped and skipped, and was already six months old. “You need to terminate the pregnancy immediately,” Martynov said. I cried all the way home.

Then we went to the doctors. They touched, listened and waved their hands. Martynov was beyond competition; no one doubted his competence.

I went to the Old Maternity Hospital. I was once born there myself. Now this building is an art museum. There are paintings hanging there and exhibitions are held, but back then there were wards there and people were lying with all sorts of annoying pathologies.

It was very bad. No psychological help. Nobody explained anything. I remember two things from my time there. Probably because they were worse than the state I was in.

Now I remember myself. I'm 20. I have a child in my stomach, which I managed to get used to in 6 months, he has almost no brain, and he should die any minute.

The stupid doctors are trying to dilate me and perform an artificial birth, but my body is desperately resisting. But that doesn't scare me. More terrible things are happening in the maternity hospital.

At night, a real zoophile would come into the yard under the windows. He had sex with a dog, and the girls watched this process from the window of the toilet on the second floor.

Apparently, he was also an exhibitionist. “Some kind of complex sexual disorder,” I thought. I didn’t go to the performances. Moreover, I did not stay on the second floor for long. I was transferred to the first floor, and I ended up in M’s room.

They probably expected money from us, but not probably, but definitely. That’s why they put her in a ward together with a tramp, a homeless woman, a city prostitute, the fool M. I know her name. I'm talking to her. The last time I saw her was two weeks ago. And half the city knows her. But few people know its history. And we were almost the same age. At that time, this was her third pregnancy and two living children, and relatives asked for a caesarean section and ligation of the tubes. She didn’t mind, although her opinion was of secondary importance. She told me the story of her life.

And what I heard then was much worse than my dying child. This woman has been raped many times since childhood.

I don’t even know if she lost her mind before or after that. It was impossible to listen to her stories. Moreover, she didn't complain. Everything was business as usual. This was her ordinary life, and she shared it. What else to do in the maternity hospital!

Thank God, my mother-in-law came to me and took me to Leningrad. She consoled me by saying that her first child was also born dead. It happens. We bought plane tickets and flew to Moscow, and from there we took the train to Leningrad. We went to the clinic, where the doctors decided to admit me urgently and called an ambulance.

And then it began. They listened to me all the time, that is, not to me, but to my stomach. The child died in the ambulance.

While we were driving to the maternity hospital on Shchorsa. It was an old Schroeder maternity hospital. Building in the style of "Dostoevsky's Petersburg". There was a commotion. The child did not move, the heartbeat could not be heard. It was an emergency, and everyone fainted. Then they examined me, seeing traces of the creativity of Guryev’s doctors on the cervix, which they tried to open by inserting turundas, and again they fainted. But most terrible weapon my exchange card turned out to be for the gentle doctors of the capital. The handwriting of doctor Ishchanova (she is a very good lady) again caused a series of fainting spells. Eventually everyone calmed down and they put me down.

All sorts of luminaries began to flock to me, because my steppe body did not accept any labor-inducing substances and did not want to part with the already dead fetus. There was a terrible allergy to any medicine. They showed me to the students.

Every day they took blood and did an ultrasound. They were afraid that the dead fetus would cause blood poisoning. They have already decided to perform a minor caesarean section on me and deliver the baby.

Then a very important professor came and said: “Your biological clock is very good, Mommy. Your body knows when to give birth, so it doesn’t take any labor-inducing medications.” And we began to wait.

It was interesting in the Schroeder maternity hospital. Everyone was lying there with some unusual diagnoses. There was a woman - a young girl, about twenty years old too, she had two uteruses.

There was a woman of about thirty, her pregnant woman was run over by a truck. Even if it was henna, the doctors were afraid.

There were spoiled hysterics who were afraid to give birth, and one blind woman. There I heard a bunch of stories about missed pregnancies and incorrect diagnoses. There in the corridor there were always bottles of bearberry, terribly bitter, and you could change into a clean nightie at least a hundred times a day. There was a whole stack of them there - I don’t want to take them.

The roommates quickly changed, but I still lay there. I was waiting. And everyone was waiting and afraid.

No one had been left with a dead fetus for so long. And everyone was so tired of this uncertainty that they decided to cut it.

They felt sorry for me, but also scared. The amniotic sac could burst. They were afraid of decomposition and blood poisoning.

And then my husband decided to come. All this time he was studying English courses in Aktyubinsk. For four months in a row. And so he called that he was coming, and they were going to cut me. And after a cesarean section they were discharged on the twelfth day, and after childbirth on the sixth. Now they are released on the third day, but this was not the case before. And so I count the days, and it turns out that I won’t make it in time for his arrival if they put me under Caesar. I was very upset.

And there was one more misfortune. In our, one might say, my ward, they put a new aunt, almost a grandmother already, about forty years old, who snored terribly. It was impossible to sleep, and for the second night in a row I wandered through the corridors. And that night the oldest nurse was on duty. She probably still found the king. So, she looked at me suspiciously and said: “I don’t like the way you walk, let’s call a doctor.” “There’s no need for a doctor,” I said, “they turned on the quartz in the delivery room, there’s no one, let them sleep.” “No,” said the mischievous granny and pressed the bell button. A sleepy doctor came running, looked in the right place and immediately woke up. Four finger opening. “Gurney, elevator urgently!” Lord, don’t bother me, I’ll get there myself. No, sit down, don't move.

There were no contractions. But the disclosure was complete. We decided to give birth.

How they did it, I don't know. They tied a sheet in front of my face. It was impossible to watch.

I only remember a very ugly midwife who was doing something so intently, either a massage, stretching something so hard, she almost got all inside me. They managed without me. Then they heartily smeared me with iodine and put ice and weights on my stomach. I did not care. It's all over.

But I was ashamed to worry and complain, they told me that I would still have children, that everything was fine with me, that this accident would not happen again, that this happens.

And there were so many women who had infertility. There were such terrible pathologies that people even envied me.

Everything is relative. A year later I gave birth to a boy weighing 4500, and five years later a second boy weighing 5 kilograms. So much for Mother's Day. Since then, this holiday has been with me every day.