“He’ll surely grow stronger, he will,” a home nurse told her on her first and only visit.
As for others… that’s another story. She was told she “must have labored him wrong,” since her baby was so weak. That she surely nursed him wrong. “So many books are out there teaching how to care for a child!” a district pediatrician would get all steamed up. But when she asked what exactly was wrong with her baby— silence was the answer.
Sveta had no one she could ask for help. Their newly minted grannies, who from day one of their married life bombarded them with questions like, “So, when shall we have grandkids?!” told her right away, “Oh my, he’s such a crier. Our kids never cried so much. We’ll come once he gets over it.” Her husband—of course, he helped! Worn out after a long day at work, he’d stop at a grocery store to buy some food—and then, often without even taking a meal, he’d drop off to sleep. He’d get up half-asleep to rock the baby… By the end of the second month, they were both in a state where they could easily sleep through their baby’s cries and this fact really terrified Sveta. During the day, she often couldn’t even go to the bathroom, as her baby practically never slept. “A nursing mom must eat properly!” a doctor said. Right, but what if it was her lucky day if she could snatch a moment to cook something for her husband and have a bite to eat herself?! Besides, she hasn’t yet regained her strength after childbirth. Or, could this be the result of fatigue after sleepless nights?
Sveta touched the wall calendar. It was hanging askance. She fixed it. Year 2005. Two-zero-zero-five. She remembered how in her childhood her friend had told her, “Can you imagine: one day, you’d see a date with ‘two and zero’ on calendars instead of ‘nineteen…’!” It sounded so bizarre at the time! Like in the sci-fi books for children. A future far, far removed. But then, presto, this future up and came. Her future—here he is, turning over in his cradle, on the verge of crying again, and it wasn’t even twenty minutes since he last fell asleep.
Sveta sat down on a chair next to his cradle, and half-dreaming, half-awake, she saw pictures, one after another, turning up before her eyes: Here she is, learning from a local newspaper about the 
She Followed After ChristLove for God and love for mankind was the true meaning of her life, and it led the Grand Duchess to the cross. And her cross grew and met the Cross of Christ, and became her delight.
“>Holy Nun Martyr Elizabeth, her mercifulness and compassion to people and resilience… How she immediately made up her mind that if such a wonderful person was a believer, then she, Sveta, will surely also be one. Here she is, in a church named after St. Elizabeth and her tears are flowing freely. “If I ever have a daughter, I will name her after her…” She had a son, but before that, she had to move, and she looked at the map—she was exactly fifteen kilometers away from her beloved church.
As for why “she was half-dreaming,” it was obvious why. It so happened that, during those days, a particle of the holy relics of the saint was brought to her beloved church of St. Elizabeth. Before, Sveta would have been at church in the first ranks, so to speak. She’d meet the relic and see it go. But now?
Before, Sveta would have been at her church in the first ranks, so to speak. She’d meet the relic and see it go
“Here is your obedience before God,” a priest told her at her son’s Baptism. And she agrees, completely. But here we are talking about 
Thirty-three Portraits of Grand Duchess ElizabethNovember 1, 2014 marks the 150-year anniversary since the birth of Royal Martyr Elizabeth Feodorovna, one of the Russian people’s favorite saints, and honored all over the world.
“>St. Elizabeth!
“Take Vit’ka with you and just go,” muttered her dozing husband.
Sveta imagined this trip with baby in arms—chilly, windy, changing buses, plus a screaming baby. And her pediatrician’s words during their last visit: “Mama, you look too weak, have you ever dropped him? Or maybe you fall down yourself?” What if…
She only sighed. Sure, Vit’ka woke up right at this moment.
* * *
The next day, Sveta woke up with a toothache. It felt like a cavity, she already felt there was something like a simple cavity there for the last couple of days—but today, the inflammation spread to her gum.
“I think I can tolerate it,” she told her husband, when he understood that Sveta wasn’t her usual self.
“No way, you mustn’t neglect it!” he replied and left the room. It seems he was calling his and her mothers. Judging from the expression on his face when he returned, they weren’t too happy to hear him.
“What?” Sveta asked.
“What, what? Same thing, as usual. ‘How do you think we handled problems in our time?’ ”
“But didn’t they just recently say that they had all those moms and aunts helping them with us babies?!” came across Sveta’s mind.
“Fine,” he said. “Call your former doctor to get an appointment. We’ll figure it out. I’ve got to go now, the last thing we need is to lose a job for being late to work!”
“Indeed!” Sveta smiled bitterly.
She said a prayer and called her dentist. Fortunately for her, he had one opening—tomorrow.
* * *
“I was able to get off work for a couple of hours only, so you should come home quick,” her husband was rocking Vit’ka in his hands, the latter showing no intention to quiet down today at all.
Sveta headed to the nearest bus stop. She squeezed into an overcrowded bus; the crowd pressed her toward the window. “It’s for the better, at least no one will push me around.”
They were going by a small grove separating one neighborhood from another. Sveta was looking at black trees standing bare and her thoughts were only about her baby: how is he there? Besides, her gums hurt so badly that even her lip was twitching, as if from electric shock.
She badly wanted to jump out of the bus when it stopped, to run fast and to venerate the holy relic
The bus took a turn. Sveta gasped: far away, between the houses, she saw the top of the cross of her beloved church of St. Elizabeth. And a great relic of the venerable martyr was there today… But Sveta—she wasn’t there. She badly wanted to jump from the bus at the next stop, run to her church towards the ringing of its bells, and kiss the holy relic. But is it right not to go see the doctor or lie to her husband?.. Tears showered from her eyes, just like before, at her first “encounter” with the saint.
“My dearest saint Elizabeth,” Sveta was saying in her mind. “I am sorry that I couldn’t come to you! I am probably doing something wrong, but I don’t know how to do it right. Please, help me!”
“Goodness sakes, look at he young generation, so weepy!” she heard someone saying right above her ear. Some woman turned away grudgingly and even tried to move aside—alas, she had nowhere to go.
* * *
Her dentist shook his head.
“What? Really bad?” Sveta asked him.
The doctor stayed silent for a moment and finally asked:
“So, where does it hurt, actually?”
Sveta was taken aback. She got even more confused when she realized that pain was almost gone.
“But here, you see… a cavity.”
“There is no cavity there. Look for yourself!”
The doctor drew a mirror to her lips and, to demonstrate his point, he poked her tooth with his explorer tool.
Her gum was pink, as if nothing had happened, and the cavity was gone, too
Sveta was at a loss for words. Her gum turned pink, as if nothing had happened, and cavity was gone, too. This was despite the fact that she was “taking in the view” of gum inflammation every time she brushed her teeth for a whole week while she hesitated to confide to her husband about an impending visit to the dentist.
“I really don’t know how it happened,” was her honest reply.
“Okay, look then. You have plaque developing on another tooth. Does it hurt when I do this?”
“Ouch! Yes, a bit. I mean, it hurts.”
“Okay, let’s take care of it real quick and you will be free to rush back to your baby. If the gum begins to hurt again, I will write a prescription for the mouthwash, agreed?”
“Agreed,” Sveta smiled.
She typically feared going to the dentist. But today her mind was consumed with other things. It means—what she has just witnessed—it was a miracle, right? And it means—St. Elizabeth had heard her? Her, sitting at the bus window, awash in tears, aggravating some older woman nearby? The saint—she heard her and came to help?
* * *
Sveta didn’t even have time to knock at her door: her husband has opened the door for her.
“Tsss!” he whispered. “Sleeping! For about half-an-hour already—a miracle. When was the last time he slept like that? Go ahead and try to take a nap as well, hope he keeps on sleeping like that, but I’ve got to go. Everything went well?”
Sveta nodded.
And five minutes later, she was already fast asleep.