This is the story of a mother and her daughter. A story of pain, defiance, and miracles — of a little girl who has spent every day of her life fighting death and winning.

When I was pregnant, I received a diagnosis no mother ever wants to hear: HLHS – Hypoplastic Left Heart Syndrome. My baby’s heart was only half formed. The words shattered everything. I was supposed to be the happiest woman in the world — instead, I was paralyzed by fear.

The first consultation with the doctor in London felt like a nightmare. His words were cold, final: “This will change your whole lives. You have to get rid of this child.”Hearing that about my long-awaited daughter was like falling from a cliff. I remember whispering, “Can she have a normal childhood?” He paused, then said, “Yes.” That one word became my anchor — my hope.

Every visit afterward was filled with dark predictions. I was told my child would never walk, never speak, that her brain would suffer, that she would live a life defined by pain. Still, I refused to give up.

We explored every possibility. There was talk of an in-utero surgery in Texas to implant a stent in her heart — a dangerous operation that cost $3 million. Only four of sixteen babies had survived it. We couldn’t afford it. So, with faith and heartbreak, I chose to give birth in London.

When Dorotka was born, doctors were prepared to operate immediately. But then came the first miracle — she didn’t need surgery right away. She was stabilized and transferred to a specialized hospital.

On her sixth day of life, the doctors told us, “We won’t operate. The chances are 2–5%. It makes no sense.”

I couldn’t accept that. I couldn’t let them give up on her. We fought back, contacted a lawyer, and for the first time in history, a hospital’s decision to discontinue treatment was reversed. Dorotka’s first heart surgery was scheduled just a week after birth.

The operation was grueling. Her aorta was only 0.5 millimeters wide — barely enough to sustain life. She somehow survived. But just moments later, her heart stopped.

Resuscitation began. Sixty-five minutes of fighting. Machines. Tubes. Her tiny chest open, her heart visible — beating again against all odds. For41 days, she lived with her chest open, fragile and exposed to the world, yet alive.

And then came another miracle. She began to breathe on her own.

Even after everything, she was strong — impossibly strong. She started gaining weight, and when I finally offered her my breast, she latched on instantly. It was as if she was telling the world:“I’m not leaving.”

She would need two more surgeries. The second took place when she was just four months old — another success. But fate tested us again. A medical mistake caused an arrhythmia during the procedure. Somehow, Dorotka survived once more. Each time, I feared our luck would run out — but each time, she fought her way back.

On December 21st, just before Christmas, we brought her home for the first time. I remember holding her in my arms and whispering, “We did it.”

I knew then that her fight was far from over. The third surgery was planned when she turned two. During an angiography in Italy, complications arose. The procedure lasted five hours. When she wasn’t admitted to the ICU afterward, I knew something was wrong. A mother’s heart always knows.

Now, two years later, the circle has closed — and once again, we’re standing at the edge. Dorotka must undergo another life-saving surgery in Boston. The doctors there have agreed to operate — a complex, hours-long procedure that could finally give her the chance to live like other children. But the cost is staggering. We can’t pay it alone.

Boston is nine hours away, and the medical transport itself will be an immense logistical challenge. Every moment counts. If she doesn’t have the surgery by September, the worst will happen.

We are exhausted, terrified, and yet still filled with faith. We’ve seen miracles before. We’ve watched our daughter survive what doctors called impossible. And we believe — with all our hearts — that she will survive this too.

To everyone reading this: please, help us save her. Help us get to Boston. Help us give Dorotka the life she has fought so hard for.

She has already proven that she was born for a reason. Her heart may be fragile, but her will to live is stronger than steel.

We can’t let her story end now — not when she’s come so far, not when hope is still within reach.

Please, stay with us. Stay with Dorotka.
Because every heartbeat of hers is a miracle — and with your help, that miracle can continue.