My story

Mother of 3 children.

I was 19. I had just got my high-school degree and I was in love. This wonderful period was shaken by something unexpected. One day I began to have strong pain in the lower abdomen and my belly was getting larger and larger. After five days I underwent a surgical operation.

Histological results were bad: I had a tumour as big as a baby’s head. To be more precise: “germinal yolk sac tumour of right ovary”. Hope of survival? Minimum. Specialized literature offered the following prognoses:

“The tumour is highly malignant; it rapidly develops at local level and generates metastases in all possible ways. In terms of prognostic speculation, the histological type of yolk sac tumour is not so meaningful... The tumour is radioresistant, though an adequate combination of chemotherapies can prolong post-operatory survival.”
(Motlík, K.; Živný, J.: Patologie v ženském lékařství, GRADA Avicenum, 2001)　

During surgical intervention they extracted the right ovary and then sent me to the oncology ward. Together with my parents I apprehended that I will never have children, that my life is highly threatened, that I had to undergo a second surgical operation, and that all female organs must be removed. At that very moment everything changed in my life. I lost my appetite and I had no more desire of living – I started to die. They transferred me to Bratislava; here they studied all material and information and repeated the histological exams; then they confirmed that terrible diagnose. The next step was not operation but chemotherapy. I suddenly had no more hair, no eyebrows, no eyelashes; my weight was about 36 kilograms; I was continuously vomiting and I suffered from all other relating symptoms...

After six months of therapy a control CT was carried; its result was: metastases in the sacral region. A second operation followed. They also removed part of my other ovary. Results of CT examination were not confirmed – no metastases in the sacral region. When I woke up from anaesthesia the doctor told me:

“You’re healthy; we’ll send you home. You can live.”　

During chemotherapy I lost my menstrual cycle. After about half-a-year I asked my gynaecologist – oncologist about that. I was afraid I was going to badly react to his answer. He told me:

“It’s normal. Your menstrual cycles will never return.”

After some time my hair started to grow back and I started to think about going back to work or keeping studying. Suddenly my menstrual cycle was back. None of the doctors were able to give me any explanations.

Nine years later. My fiancé – back than a high-school student – has become a doctor. After his graduation we got married. He knew what future with me would be like, but in spite of that he never stopped loving me. And he believed... After about three years of marriage I was a “sterile”. It was my diagnosis. I went back to the gynaecological clinic. A surgical operation followed; during this operation the doctors observed that the remaining portion of ovary had turned, wrapped the uterine tube, and grew further up to the intestine. After this operation they advised artificial insemination; but we didn’t want it. We simply left everything in God’s hands.　

About four months later I realized that I was pregnant.

Gravidity examinations showed very high risk that the baby will be affected by disability. The geneticist doctor informed me that after chemotherapy there is a high risk of embryo damage. Of course, I was scared... My husband always told me that the Lord knows our limits and our needs. So we refused amniocentesis.

In July 2003 Laura was born, a wonderful baby with good health.

When Laura was eighth months old and I was nursing her several times a day, we found out that I was pregnant with our second child. It was on 25 March 2004. On that day the following sentence from the Gospel was read in churches:

“...and she who was said to be unable to conceive...”

I found out that I was in the second month of my second pregnancy. Seven months later, Lea was born – a beautiful and healthy baby.　

After these two accouchements I started to have problems relating to the fact that I had lived for thirteen years with only a portion of one ovary. My gynaecologist said that I will certainly have an early menopause, because many women with much simpler diagnoses enter menopause at the age of 32 or 33. So we thought that we caught our last chance to be pregnant. We had no words to express our thanks to God for our two daughters.

But His benevolence was not over yet... At the age of　39 I gave birth to a son, Marek Samuel – another beautiful and healthy baby.

It’s true... Nothing is impossible with God.

P. S.

The story of my miraculous physical healing was published by the review Miriam. Somebody started to spread it through the internet. I understand that people are encouraged when they read about such real life witness stories. But the real “hero” in this story is not me. It is a story about God and about His greatness, Almightiness, Love. A story witnessing that nothing is impossible with God. When sharing my story I often ask myself why God decided to show His mightiness throughout my person and not throughout other women?! Indeed, a number of infertile women are contacting me. I want people to know that it is not a question of merits. I am the most unworthy person among those who are unworthy. I do not belong to that category of women who long for a big family with plenty of children; but a dream came true. I commit myself to public things. I like this. Only God knows why an infertile woman – with this kind of interests, not a super-mum – became a mother of many children. Since the time I wrote that testimony I was twice pregnant, though in one occasion we lost our child during the third month of pregnancy. And now – at the age of almost 39 – I had a son. Doctors told me that – having two daughters at the age of 32 and 33 – I took advantage of my last fertile months. It seems to me that God does not take our scientific knowledge too seriously. God’s logic is not like ours. If we know this, we can get closer to God.
(But I still don’t know why it doesn’t happen to all women.)

It won’t probably fit the ideal portrait of a woman who was recovered and healed, but I want to write the truth about me, not an idyllic poem. The real meaning of this miracle is that GOD GLORIFIED HIMSELF, not that my desire came true.