I had one humble wish from the universe: to be a mother. It seemed a very ordinary wish at the time and yet has proven anything but ordinary. This simple humble wish began a journey of unimaginable events and a change in myself that I could never have thought possible. From ordinary to extraordinary is never a straight line but what was about to unfold from this humble wish of mine was an odyssey of proportions that I could have never imagined.

My husband, Ahmet and I lived, our mostly content, life in Izmir, Turkey. We both worked from home, going about our daily routines without much fanfare or deviation. Sharing our home with our two budgies and our pet dog, we were settled and familiar, in a rhythm that, but for the humble wish of mine, was a steady beat, not too fast and not too slow.

I should reveal from the start that I wasn’t always so keen to start a family, but we will get on to that a little later. Ahmet had such dreams and hopes, but mostly kept them internalized. The hope that one day, perhaps sooner rather than later, we would together envision our little family on long weekends, getaways to the beach or the forest, saving and planning for our little ones' education and finding joy in the memories of silly, happy family moments. It was comforting to think about such dreams, yet to travel the road to where the dream becomes a reality was anything but comforting. The scenario that soon enveloped our lives was, to put it simply, incomprehensible.

In my job, translating subtitles for TV shows and movies from English to Turkish, I often come across scenarios as dramatic as the one that is about to unfold and I would think, "The screenwriter really went over the top on this one!" or "This is unbelievable!" But now that I have faced the rawness of an implausible reality, I can no longer suggest that mere incredulity of a story is enough for it never to be taken at face value, so let me begin with this story.

I used to believe that our generation was fortunate, born in the last quarter of the last century and witnessing the dawn of a new millennium. Surely the bloody wars and devastating plagues were fast becoming relics of the past. We lived in an age of technological wonders. Medicine may not have conquered all diseases, but it has made great strides in diagnosis and treatment. Battles with tanks and artillery had largely been confined to the avatars we controlled in video games, ending with the press of a "shutdown" button. But in the predicament we find ourselves in, there is no "shutdown" button.

Two hours ago, Russia began bombing Kyiv, the capital of Ukraine. This is not a game; it's a harsh reality. Real people, not avatars, are dying. What horrifies me most about this war, which is taking place just 2,000 kilometers away across the black sea to the north east of Turkey, is that our daughter is due to be born in three weeks time.

The woman who will give birth to my daughter is somewhere in that besieged city, and I have no idea where she is and absolutely no word from her.

The longing to fill our lives with the laughter of a child has led us down extraordinary paths, all of which were unforeseen and unplanned. Before this war, we had endured a pandemic, which for us, due to my humble wish, had added extra complications. Driven by my phobias, more of which we shall learn later, Ahmet and I resorted to extraordinary measures to overcome circumstances thrust upon us in what seemed like an uninterrupted flow of unhinged events. Neither of us are the type to surrender to fate without exhausting every option, so that is exactly what we did, exhaust every option, determined to have a child, no matter the cost.

In retrospect, perhaps we should not have tempted fate so brazenly. Sitting on the floor of the meticulously prepared nursery, I look at the tiny red shoes we bought the day we saw that faint red line, the silent sign of our daughter's tenacious grip on life, unseen by anyone else.

"God, I know I only turn to you in times of need, but please help us. Show us a way out and take us to our daughter," I silently pray.