Stage One – The Eighth Scream
« Wait… » the doctor froze, leaning over the operating table. « There’s another child here. »
No one answered in the delivery room.
For a few seconds, all that could be heard was the measured beeping of the machines and the muffled breathing of the people behind the masks.
« What do you mean, ‘another one’? » the midwife asked.
The doctor quickly checked the data on the monitor, then looked at his colleagues.
« We’re on our eighth fetus. It’s located very deep, behind the others. It wasn’t seen on the last ultrasound. »
Everything inside me broke apart.
Eight?
I no longer felt my body, I didn’t understand where I was. It seemed to me that I was hearing voices from far away, as if I were underwater.
« Doctor, are you sure? » someone asked.
— Absolutely. Get an additional team ready. Urgently.
The room immediately erupted into commotion. The nurse rolled out another table, someone was unpacking instruments, and someone was calling the neonatal intensive care unit.
I tried to raise my head.
– My child?..
« He’s alive, » the doctor said. « But we need to act quickly. »
At that moment, the fear returned with renewed vigor. I thought the worst was over. Seven children had been born, each breathing, each crying. I allowed myself to relax—and suddenly it became clear that it was only just beginning.
My husband, Andrey, was standing outside the door. He’d been told the labor was over. He was probably already crying with joy, calling his family to tell them he was now the father of seven children.
Now I didn’t know what to tell him.
“Just a little longer,” said the doctor. “Hold on.”
I clutched the sheet with my fingers.
– Just save him.
– We will do our best.
Stage Two – The Child Nobody Expected
The following minutes turned into chaos.
The doctors exchanged short phrases. One specialist monitored my condition, another prepared equipment for the baby. I heard words like « oxygen saturation, » « breathing, » and « resuscitation team, » but I couldn’t make sense of them.
Then another scream rang out.
It was weaker than the others, but still real.
Eighth.
The midwife lifted the small, almost weightless body.
– Boy.
I closed my eyes and cried.
— Is he breathing?
— He’s breathing, but very heavily.
The baby was immediately placed in an incubator. I only managed to see a tiny palm and thin fingers that barely moved.
“He’s small,” I whispered.
« He’s smaller than the others, » the doctor replied. « But he’s fighting. »
« What’s his name? » the nurse asked unexpectedly.
I didn’t even think about a name. Andrey and I spent months choosing names for our seven children, arguing, jotting down ideas in a notebook. But for the eighth child, a name somehow just came to mind.
« Lev, » I said. « His name is Lev. »
When I was transferred to the intensive care unit, Andrey was already waiting in the hallway. He looked as if he had aged in just a few hours.
« Have you given birth? » he asked.
— Eight children.
Andrey blinked.
– What?
– Eight. Not seven.
He slowly sat down on the chair.
– But the doctors said…
– They were wrong.
He was silent for a few seconds. Then he ran his hands over his face.
— Is everyone alive?
— Seven are breathing on their own. Lev is in intensive care.
Andrey took my hand.
– I don’t know what to say.
– Then don’t say anything. Just be there.
He nodded.
But I could tell from his look that he wasn’t just afraid for his children. He was afraid of his life, which had now changed forever.
Stage Three – Eight Little Hearts
The first few days I hardly slept.
Seven babies were in the premature ward. Lev was in a separate room, hooked up to a ventilator. Every three hours, I pumped milk, labeled the containers, and handed them to the nurses.
Each container had the child’s last name, date, and first name on it.
Andrey tried to help, but he kept getting confused.
— Is this milk for Vera or for Victor?
— For Vera. They’ve already brought it to Victor.
– Where is Nika?
— In the third box.
– And Lev?
I looked at him.
— Lev is in intensive care.
Andrey lowered his head.
We’d been planning for seven babies. We bought seven cribs, seven sets of clothes, seven car seats. Now it turns out we’re short on everything: diapers, bottles, clothes, money, space, and energy.
But what was missing most was confidence.
Doctors said the first weeks would be critical.
« They’re all very small, » the head of the department explained. « But each one has a good chance. »
– And Lev?
The doctor was silent for a moment.
« Lev is weaker. He was born last and was in an awkward position for a long time. His lungs aren’t ready to work on their own yet. »
Every day I asked permission to approach his cubicle. His tiny body was covered in sensors, and a breathing mask was placed over his face.
“Hello, my boy,” I whispered. “You’re not late. We’ve all been waiting for you.”
Sometimes Lev’s fingers moved. I didn’t know if he could hear me, but I kept talking.
Andrey didn’t want to come in at first.
“I’m afraid,” he admitted.
– This is your son.
– That’s exactly why.
– He needs a father.
The next day, Andrei finally entered the intensive care unit. He stood near the ward for a long time, hesitant to touch the baby.
Then he put his palm on the glass.
« I’m sorry, Lev, » he whispered. « We didn’t know you were there. »
Stage Four – The News That Spread Around the City
The story of the eight children quickly became famous.
The hospital first posted the information on its website. Then journalists called. People started sending gifts, clothes, toys, and money.
I didn’t want publicity.
“We don’t need a circus,” I told Andrey.
« This isn’t a circus. They’re really helping us. »
— What if everyone forgets tomorrow?
– Then we’ll have to manage on our own.
But no one was going to forget.
A woman from a charity came to the hospital. She offered to pay for Lev’s treatment and provide everything the children needed.
« You don’t have to be embarrassed to accept help, » she said. « You didn’t ask for this pregnancy, but you have the right to use every opportunity to ensure your children are healthy. »
I was silent for a long time, and then I signed the documents.
A few days later, they brought us eight cribs, eight mattresses, clothes of different sizes, diapers, and special formula in case my milk supply wasn’t enough.
But along with the support came some angry comments.
Some wrote that we were deliberately hiding our eighth child for attention. Others claimed that such a pregnancy was impossible and the whole thing was staged.
And one person wrote: “You’ve given birth to so many children, now let the state support you.”
I read the message and burst into tears.
Andrey took the phone.
– Don’t read this.
— What if people are right?
– In what?
— That we can’t handle it.
He sat down next to me.
« We don’t have to get it done in one day. Today, all we need is for the children to survive today. Tomorrow, we’ll think about tomorrow. »
For the first time in a long time, he spoke not like a frightened man, but like a father.
Stage Five – A Test for the Family
A week later, the condition of one of the children sharply worsened.
Misha began having trouble breathing. Doctors urgently connected him to a ventilator.
I stood in the hallway with my hand over my mouth and couldn’t stop the tears.
“Why?” I repeated. “Why is this happening again?”
Andrey hugged me.
– They are too small.
— I had to do something.
– You did everything you could.
— I didn’t even know there were eight of them!
The manager came out to us.
— The condition has been stabilized. The danger has now passed.
I slid down the wall onto a chair.
– Thank you.
« Don’t thank me yet. They’ll keep throwing up surprises. But Misha’s tough. He’ll get through this. »
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