Sometimes… the difference between a mistake and a surprise is all in your outlook. And for Iosif and Yustina Kozlow, the pregnancy that would lead to their daughter Tania was definitely a surprise. And considering the economic crisis sweeping Russia during the mid-nineties… it was definitely a mistake. Being paid in IOUs and living off meager savings is not the smartest moment to have a child. And when she turned out to be one of those babies that would scream and cry inconsolably for hours… perhaps the thought crossed their minds. But in truth, neither ever actually felt regret for having her. Frustration, yes. Regret, no.
It was her mother that noticed the odd discoloration on patches of skin first, but it was easily dismissed as rashes or birthmarks. And it is hard to tell when a baby is experiencing such things as headaches or mood swings or fatigue. And, the doctors would assure them later, the symptoms typically build so slowly, even adult patients can go years without thinking anything was really wrong. And Tania still wasn't talking when she had her first episode. Convulsions and fever, vomiting and eventually passing out altogether and what started as a moody baby cascaded into full blown Addison's Disease. Luckily, they were able to get her emergency care that kept her alive, but in the failing system of healthcare reform of the time… it also left them with a large bill to be paid, as well as years and years to come of similar.
So, at a young age, Tania was started on a daily regimen of medications to keep her functioning and a life of ear-lethargy. She wasn't allowed (and nor could she last very long when she tried) to run out and play with the other children. Her life was a sedate one, and a solitary one, at least where other children were concerned. But she was happy all the same. Her mother went out of her way to make sure she had something to fulfill her. The former concert pianist-turned-homemaker in the economic decline taught her daughter about music and art, how to appreciate a good book, encouraged her creativity and made crafts a bonding experience. It took some doing, as the money was too low to buy things like craft project materials and new instruments, so there was a lot of using and reusing old items found around the house, like old lamps and pictures frames and clothes that didn't fit. Broken mirrors, old books and such things as they had lying around. They had a few family friends who would help out here and there, where they could. People who understood the situation the family was in and cared enough. Yustina had a piano, of course, a cherished treasure for the family, but other instruments were borrowed from and taught by old friends from the concert days, people she could exchange favors with to keep her daughter entertained and educated.
But none of it cheered the young child as much as when her brother would come home. He was a special person in her life. Not young enough to be a peer, but not old enough to be an adult like their parents, he was easily and quickly slid into superhero status, someone to look up to, who would always be there to look after her, and in her child's mind, someone who could do no wrong. So, while she spent her days in gentle, creative and educational pursuits, those visits were the shining moments that would stand out.
She didn't know, when she was so young, how much of a burden she was to them all during those beginning years and even on into the years when Russia was righting itself after the crisis. She didn't know how hard it was to keep her medications coming, she didn't understand when she would sometimes not have them. She didn't ever see how hard each trip to the hospital would hit them. They kept it all from her. She didn't need the guilt, after all, she was just a child. But when they couldn't hide Iosif's cancer from her, she was hit hard with the fear that her beloved father would die. Her doctors told Yustina… depression was to be expected in a child in her situation. The crying, the loss of appetite… it would all pass when she was able to come to terms with what was happening. And then… her brother came sweeping in, like that hero she always saw him as. He told them he could heal their father. He… promised Tania he would get better.
However. It was a promise unfulfilled. Iosif died that very year, that very visit. And Tania… she couldn't handle the loss. She placed the blame neatly on her brother there and then, lashing out at him in pain and anger and sorrow. Loss of their father and loss of that perfect image of her big brother. She told him that day that she didn't want to see him anymore, couldn't stand it. Her doctors, of course, explained it away with her disease as an excuse. Mood swings and changes in personality are, after all, just another symptom. And who knows. Maybe they were right. But whether it was her disease, her loss or just her that said those words… she regretted them almost instantly. But she was too embarrassed and still reeling from her father's death… and so she never took them back.
Instead, she threw herself into helping her mother through those days. Not that the woman ever fully recovered, but Tania was there to support her, giving her something to focus on and care for in the wake of her husband's death. Tania started hiding things from her. Anything she thought might upset the woman was carefully tucked away and never spoken of. With a few notable exceptions. Like the bomb in New York City. Both of the Kozlow women had a low point there, as if the loss there were echoed back through their own. And eventually… the two Kozlow women were able to find a way to live this new chapter of their lives, one without the men to support them. Mostly. There were things Yustina hid as well, so as not to upset her grieving daughter, like the fact that her brother was sending them money for her medicine. Neither wanted to upset the other. As if they were made of porcelain. And maybe they were, in those years.
As Tania grew into her teens, her mother had a hard time telling if she was healing at all, since the girl was so quiet, so reserved. And when asked, she would insist she was just fine. This life they found, it may have been one of silent, solitary mourning for them both, but it was also threaded together by their love for one another. By how much they cared for the other. In those years, they bonded more than most mothers and daughters do, and Tania became something of a companion to her mother, not just a daughter. A confidante, even. A friend. Unfortunately… both would get struck low again, when the papers reported the death of her brother. And before she got to say she was sorry. Before she could tell him she loved him. Yustina didn't have much time to grieve this time around, as her concern fell to her inconsolable daughter, trying to find some way to help her through the dark times.
