I, staggering with weakness, walked along the corridor, trying to understand where the baby cries. Lord, why does he cry so long? It can not be that the staff did not hear it. Turned around the corner - brilliant tiles replaced worn linoleum, the light in the corridor became somehow sharp. I went to another department? No, it seems the same - maternity. The crying sounded a couple of meters away from me, I carefully opened the chamber door, expecting a shout: "Mother! Here it is impossible! "- in the postpartum strictly. And as if she returned to Soviet childhood - cracked plaster on the ceiling, oil-painted walls. And an ineradicable smell - cheap disinfection, hospital food, someone else's grief. The elderly nurse lazily carried a mop on the floor. At the window, on the oilcloth without a sheet, crouched, lay a naked child and shouted. Nyanya, paying no attention to him, plumped the rag into the bucket and went to the door. I grabbed her by the sleeve: Where are you going? Do something! Call his mother! What mother ?! She was discharged today, "the nurse replied. And, seeing the amazement on my face, said: "He's a failure." She said that there are already three, there is nothing to feed this. Dura-baba, about what only thought? Can I try to calm him down? Yes, for God's sake, "the nurse nodded indifferently and left, dragging the mop behind her. On the floor behind her was a wet trace. Wait a minute! What's his name? No, "she said without turning around. "They'll take the baby to the house-they'll be called there." I took the boy in his arms, he frantically opened his tired mouth and screamed tiny fists. But, warmed up, gradually calmed down ... "Lena raised her tear-filled eyes to me:" It was just a shock. I just gave birth to Masha, I was in such euphoria, and suddenly this child. Such cuckoos must be shot! You would have seen what a miracle this kid! And how wept bitterly, as if I felt everything ... "
Olga and her friend Lenka were sitting in my kitchen. She broke away for a couple of hours from the newborn daughter. I was silent, gently stroking my big belly. Naum hit his foot several times inside and fell silent. Why did this woman decide to give life to her baby? Was she sorry? Worried about your own health, which can cause abortion? What did she think about when she realized she was pregnant? She already has three children, but how is this worse than those older ones? She rejected her child, left her to sob alone on her bare oilcloth. Milk in the breast will burn quickly, even faster, obviously, she will throw out of her head all the thoughts about him. He is a stranger to her. Stranger child. I was about to give birth and did not understand: how can a woman do this? Nine months she wore a child under the heart. Really during this time, nothing to him did not feel, did not think: "How will he be for Olga? Will it be like me? How will he laugh or be angry? How for the first time will say "Mom"? "I started talking to my son when his presence was barely perceptible. And I knew for sure that it would be a boy. I do not know where. She once stood with linens in her hands and suddenly felt. I tell my husband: "We will have a son, let's choose a name." We are surrounded by dictionaries. It was so much fun: how many wonderful names in the world! We wanted the son's name to be rare, special. While choosing, I caught myself thinking: I'm happy. Absolutely. Unconditionally. The choice of the name took a few wonderful days. Finally decided to call Naum. And immediately I began to address my son by the name: "Well, Naum, how are you? Let's listen to the music, Naum. Very soon we'll see each other ... "Why did that woman deprive herself of this? Did she really not call her child, even mentally? Lena put the cup down on the table and sighed: "You know, it made me feel dumb: just a few steps away from him there are happy mothers with happy babies, and he is all alone, not even a name. And I say to him: "Why do not you have Matveyka with us?" And imagine, he immediately grabbed my finger, and tenaciously so! The next day I took Masha and carried her to acquaint her with Matvey. I say: "Look, what a good boy", and she only glances at her eyes. On the day of her discharge, Olga came to Matvey alone. She looked at him, asleep, and thought: I know how to act. But I can not do this. I am a working mother, I would have to cope with one child. Yes, I have a husband and parents. But the child is for life ... No, I can not. And the kid, as if understanding everything, fell into such sorrowful tears that I ran away, I could not bear it. When I left, I ran into a dentist. The last thing she heard was her grouchy persuasion: "Well, quietly, Matveika, quietly." Lena smiled a lost smile, tears streamed from her eyes without stopping. Several years have passed since that evening, but I did not forget Lena's story about Matveika. During this time my son was born. I still really like his name, although people do not react to him the way I expected. When we go out to the sandbox and imagine ourselves, moms, not dare to ask directly about the nationality, are cautiously interested:
- And what is Naum's middle name?
- Aleksandrovich.
- Oh good.
Once I could not stand it and also asked:
"And if it turns out that we are Jews, will not you let your boy play with us?"
- No, of course, you do not understand, - mother answered and took her kid to the side.
Strange people come across, but I am close to Naum and I can always explain to him what I should pay attention to, and what can be easily laughed at. The first steps, the first words - I tried not to miss a precious moment of his childhood. And every time Naum fell asleep in my arms, I remembered the refusenik Matveika. Where is he now? What about him? What's his name now? And how many of them are in our country - tiny and useless? The more I immersed myself in the world of my son, the more I understood: something must be done. All children need love, without it they grow up crippled, even if they are physically perfectly healthy. I asked myself these endless questions, and life threw up answers. My friend Lena Alshanskaya became the president of the fund "Volunteers to help orphans." The stories of abandoned children, which were regularly published on her website, knocked me out of the rut: we, the actors, have a vivid imagination. I stopped going to festivals and social parties. How can I smile there, shine in elegant dresses, if there is such a thing! Olga's feelings demanded an exit, an action. I decided to organize charity events in favor of orphans. And one could act alone, attract friends and seek helpers for one-time actions, but all the donors pronounced a serious phrase "settlement account." As a result, I established my foundation "The Charms of the Future". Olga came up with several game psycho-trainings and launched one of them in the framework of the First Russian theatrical charity festival "Wards of the Future". Have made it in Adygea. At my request for help, the President of the Republic and the entire Cabinet of Ministers responded. They love children there, Circassians do not abandon their children in principle, mostly abandoned - they are Russian children. I saw them all in five orphanages in the republic. Once I was going to go to a familiar Moscow orphanage with presents - to congratulate the kids on the New Year. And on the eve of the night at Naum, the temperature jumped to forty. What to do? Cancel the trip? The horror is that the children, if I do not come, will hardly be surprised. They got used to the fact that adults deceive and abandon them. All night I walked around the apartment, shaking Naum on my hands. In the morning, making sure that he was better, went. And while I was overcoming the pre-New Year traffic jams, I thought unconvincingly: "Who keeps Matveyka in his arms when he is sick?" A terrible picture did not go from the head: a small boy, so similar to my son, lies under a state blanket and shudders from coughing. I decided: as soon as the holidays are over, I'll try to find it. The first person I met in the delivery room was a nurse with a mop in my hands. Should I ask her? Although over the years hundreds of babies were born here, she hardly remembers.
"Five years ago there was a rejection boy, he was nicknamed Matveiks," I began hesitantly. "Maybe, remember?"
"I remember-I remember," the nurse raised her head, "a nice boy, and we did not have any other Matveyev either." And you to what?
"Do you happen to know where he is now?"
"So they took him."
"To the Baby's house?"
- No, in the family. A woman came with her husband and took her. You know, she took it, pressed it to her ... So she did not let me out of her hands anymore. I sighed with relief: "Thank God, somebody did it, even this time it's not me."