humanity

I never advertise anything.
I’m not an “influencer.”
Convincing people that one thing is better than another isn’t my strong suit.
When asked, I politely decline.
I can only genuinely recommend something I’ve experienced myself—something I believe in unconditionally, something I feel in my heart.
And I want the people around me to touch that same feeling.

But this time—
Unbelievable.
I’m advertising—
Three days of pure human kindness surrounding me.
Maybe you’ll be tempted 🙂

Yesterday morning:
A nurse quietly knocks and peeks into the room:
“Can I take her now?” she asks carefully.
I nod in agreement, and she looks over the tray, adding somewhat sadly:
“Wasn’t it tasty? You didn’t eat everything…”
“It was delicious,” I quickly reassure the sincerely worried woman of motherly age, “just a lot.”
She quietly closes the door, and I sit there holding M in my arms, thinking: well, here’s proof that a public hospital—often criticized for many things—can be incredible.

I don’t know how others experience it. But…
Last night, I returned from a 5-star “hotel”
called the “Santariškės Maternity Ward.”

Wednesday morning, I left home,
Arrived at the hospital.
The name alone, reaching my ears, made me think:
“Oh, it’s just a conveyor…”
Not scary at all. I’ve done this finish line before.
I won’t give birth on a bench outside.
I’ll meet at least one free doctor…
I felt calm.

Having tracked regular contractions all night, I had plenty of time to remember the beautiful story of me and my “little belly.”
From seeing the blessed second stripes
to glancing at the clock at night, knowing that our tiny meeting was approaching step by step.
Wiping away a tear of joy, I knew that today, with the rising sun, THE DAY would come.
I decided not to “rush” the family.

I know my body.
I waited for the morning calmly.
Sent the older kids to school—maybe hugging them a little tighter.
And by 9 a.m., we began our journey through the hospital corridors.

From the moment I arrived, I didn’t meet a single unpleasant person.
From the chief doctor to the nurse bringing food, or the quietly knocking cleaning lady, swiftly sweeping the floors and disappearing behind the door:
“I won’t disturb your peace for long,” she smiles.

The midwives and pediatricians work with such gentleness and dedication that watching them, your eyes widen, and you have to pinch yourself to believe that yes, this all happens here, in Lithuania.
In a public hospital.

Doctors gently ask if I need advice on feeding, on care…
And a wonderful “third-time mom” feeling fills the air.
“You probably have experience to share with others,” they smile warmly.

I spent three days in the hospital.
During that time, I experienced not a single unpleasant incident.
In my heart, I carry VIP treatment.
Which I’ve never had, even “for a high price.”

The food?
Healthy, never repetitive.
Not disgusting.
No pizza, no grilled ribs, no hot dogs.
But in real life, I eat very similar food.
Natural cottage cheese, yogurt, omelet, stew, vegetable soup, cottage cheese casserole.
I almost always finished it.
And if I didn’t, it was only because I’m not used to eating so much.

When leaving, I wanted to turn and thank everyone more than just a simple “thank you.”
But I couldn’t think of anything in the moment.
I chuckled in my mind that I would say it was so good I’d return.
But glancing at the miracle number three in my husband’s arms ahead, I held back.

And I walked away, taking with me a very good feeling in my heart:
I will advertise it.
Maybe some of you don’t have three 🙂
And I’ll encourage you.
So that if you hear this place called a “conveyor,” maybe they forgot to add one more word:

A conveyor where HUMANITY is made.

THANK YOU to everyone.
I left feeling that you are worth more than that word.

A happy third-time mom,
V.