I don't want my child to remember his mother sitting and powerless. I want her to remember my arms lifting her, guiding her, hugging her tight.

Hello, dear people.

My name is Biljana , 36 years old, mother of a beautiful 9 months old baby.

The first symptoms appeared five years ago - quietly, almost imperceptibly, but with each passing week they took something from me. I began to lose my footing, literally and figuratively. I couldn't walk normally my right leg dragged after me as if it was no longer part of my body. I could feel tingles in my limbs, countless episodes of weakness coming on that folded me in half. And my eyes... they were just 'standing still'. The world was blurring, stopping, refusing to be clear. It was unthinkable to walk, to drive, to be able to work. It was unthinkable to be myself.

In time, this struggle was given a name that no one wants to hear for themselves: multiple sclerosis relapsing-remitting form, a disease that strikes in fits and leaves behind a fear of whether the next one will take even more out of you.

I went through endless surgeries, hallways and hospitals. I listened to diagnoses, assumptions, promises. I was subjected to different therapies, changing medications, procedures, hopes... and still nothing. There were days when I felt like a stranger in my own body, tired, scared, guilty that I couldn't live fully. Every small victory - even a few steps without someone else's help was like a peak climbed. And then came the crash again. And again I was learning to get up.

And just as the fear began to settle permanently into me, life lent a hand in the most unexpected way. My little princess appeared. My baby. With her came not just love - came purpose. It was as if someone had lit a light inside me that the disease could not extinguish. She gave me my strength back. She gave me back my faith that I couldn't give up. That I had to fight - to be able to hold her hand, to run after her, to guide her through life, to be a mother not just in name but in presence.

Then I took a decision step that was scary for me. Perhaps the scariest one yet. But also the most necessary. I found hope abroad: experimental stem cell transplant treatment. A chance to stop the progression of the disease. A chance to reclaim my body, my life, my independence. A chance to live fully, not half as I can , but truly.

I know the road will not be easy. But I am no longer alone. There is a small universe inside me that looks at me with trust and expects me to be strong. I want to get well. I want to stand up without fear that I won't be able to tomorrow. I want to be by my child's side awake, active, smiling. I want to get back to normal "today" and believe in a peaceful "tomorrow".

It's not just a battle with illness. This is a battle for life. For motherhood. For hope.
And I believe that with your support, I will win it.

I don't want my child to remember her mother sitting and powerless. I want her to remember my arms lifting her, guiding her, hugging her tight.