High-Risk Pregnancy Success: Yakutsk Woman Praises Perinatal Center's Care

A Mother from Yakutsk Shares Her Gratitude to the Perinatal Center Team—Because One Negative Review Shouldn't Overshadow Thousands of Lives Saved

Victoria I., a mother of many from Yakutsk, has asked to publish a letter of thanks to the staff of the Perinatal Center at the M.E. Nikolayev National Medical Research Center. In the wake of recent events, she notes that while a single negative comment often takes center stage, thousands of acts of heroism unfairly go unnoticed.

"In the rush of daily life, we forget to say simple yet vital words: thank you. We take professionalism, dedication, and selfless care for granted. One critical remark, and we're ready to condemn an entire system—ignoring the hundreds of lives saved, the thousands of newborn smiles, the round-the-clock titanic effort that keeps it all running."

Today, she doesn't just want to share the story of her childbirth. She wants to express her deepest, heartfelt gratitude to the entire team of the Perinatal Center at Yakutsk's M.E. Nikolayev National Medical Research Center—and to make us all pause and ask: How often do we thank those who stand guard over what matters most—our lives and the lives of our children?

Her pregnancy had gone smoothly. But behind the number "40+" in the "age" column lay real risks: weak blood vessels, a predisposition to thrombosis, and a compromised scar from a previous C-section. She was referred to the Perinatal Center as a high-risk patient—the place where women with complex pregnancies are sent because it has everything: cutting-edge technology, rigorous medical standards, and, most importantly, a team ready for any challenge.

On January 19, she was admitted to the pathology of pregnancy ward. The first thing that struck her was the atmosphere—not the sterile coldness of a hospital, but warmth and care. The attentive staff, the spotless cleanliness (her room was cleaned multiple times a day!), the wholesome meals. In the mornings, prenatal exercises played over the loudspeakers.

Then, at exactly 9:00 a.m., the Russian national anthem would resonate through the center. At first, it felt unusual—some women even laughed. But it carried the weight of a New Year's address: something solemn, unifying. As one of the expectant mothers put it, "It awakens a sense of homeland." Like it or not, the words stayed with you. It was a strange yet touching ritual that set a hopeful tone, reminding everyone that they were part of something greater.

Days passed in a rhythm of examinations, gentle procedures, and preparation. And then her day arrived.

The operating room: precision, coordination, calm. Around her stood a team of professionals—surgeons, neonatologists, anesthesiologists, nurses—each playing their part like a well-rehearsed ensemble. The anesthesiologist spoke to her continuously, his voice a steady anchor in a sea of nerves. And everything went flawlessly.

Then came the ICU. Nurse Valentina—a woman with the kindest soul—literally nursed me back to health. She fed me with a spoon when I was too weak to lift a hand. One of the doctors brought me a prayer written on a slip of paper. I read it over and over, and with each word, warmth and calm washed over me. Thanks to their care, I was able to get up and walk by evening.

That night, I was transferred to the postpartum ward. And there it was—the long-awaited miracle: my tiny daughter was brought to me. All the pain, all the fear melted away in the face of this overwhelming joy. I wanted to live, to recover, to be the strongest mother in the world for her.

The same story unfolded here and in the pediatric ward: spotless cleanliness, order, and care at every level—from the janitorial staff to the head of the department.

People often say, "Medicine is better abroad." I beg to differ. Right here in Yakutsk, in this center, the standard is worthy of international recognition. Our doctors, nurses, and orderlies are the best. They don't just do their jobs—they give their warmth, their knowledge, their strength for the sake of two lives: mother and child.

So before sharing another angry post on social media, let's pause. Let's remember the thousands of stories with happy endings. The ones who stand guard night after night, day after day. The ones who welcome new life, who fight for it, who offer support in the darkest moments.

The doctors of the Perinatal Center at the M.E. Nikolayev National Medical Center are the true heroes of our time. Their work is invisible, quiet, yet vitally important. They deserve not blame for the rare misstep, but an ocean of gratitude for their countless victories.

From the bottom of my heart, I say: thank you. For my life, for my daughter's first cry, for your skilled hands, your kind words, and your unshakable strength. You embody compassion and professionalism. I bow to you in deepest respect, and may your kindness return to you a hundredfold.

Let's cherish, respect, and thank them. Their work is the real miracle that happens every single day.