How can you market your child like that – you're only in it for the money.

There are days when it's not the major blows of fate that hurt.

It's the comments. The sentences from people who don't even know us.

"This is no life."

"The best thing would be if he died."

"How can you market your child like that – you're only in it for the money."

To be honest, maybe I would have spoken the same way in the past.

A joke at the regulars' table, a beer in hand, one distracts from one's own life, talks about others because one believes one knows everything better.

But I'm telling you – having children changes everything.

It makes you more human, more vulnerable. It shows you what love truly is.

The day the twins were born, I felt true responsibility in life for the first time. Not the responsibility of a project at work.

This fear that nothing can go wrong. This feeling that everything matters now.

And then the accident happened.

Since then, Laura and I have been fighting every day – for Oliver's life, for the smiles of our twins, for our marriage, for ourselves.

I want to be honest – I'm often at my wit's end. I've had three nervous breakdowns. I've screamed, cried, kicked. I've prayed.

I screamed at the walls, screamed at God, screamed at fate.

I just wanted to hold Oliver in my arms again, like before. To feel him, how he breathes. How he laughs.

And then you read comments like

"This is no way to live, why are you doing this to him? Turn the device off."

People who were never there when you were vacuuming your child, when you stayed awake at night because you were afraid he would stop breathing.

I used to have a normal life. A good and secure job. Senior manager in IT security. Six-figure euro salary, house, car.

Work hard, build a little house – my father showed me how it's done.

45 years with the same employer, hardworking, reliable, down-to-earth. I've also reached 26 years with the same company.

And now?

Now there's another way. One that no one teaches you in school.

I need to figure out how we can survive as a family.

How Oliver, Sebastian and Julian are still allowed to be children.

How we can laugh even though life has taken everything from us.

I don't need a house anymore. No nice car. No pension.

Home is no longer a place. Home is my family.

If I have to leave one day, that's okay – as long as I know that my three boys and my wife are doing well.

Until then, I'll bust my ass.

Work hard – without building a house.

And yes – it's about money. But not in the way you think.

We're talking about millions here. About bills that no ordinary person can pay. About sums I never wanted to have anything to do with.

We have disclosed everything to the foundations – every donation received, every expenditure, every document.

We have nothing to hide.

We had to become transparent. Our entire lives were broken down into numbers and documents in Excel.

I still remember when our friends started GoFundMe back in May. I didn't know anything about it.

When I woke up, there was 17,000 euros there.

I was ashamed. What do people think of me? I didn't know if I should accept that.

But without that – without YOU – Oliver wouldn't be here today, and would I even be here?

And I'll say it very clearly:

We never received any money through a report or an interview.

We never accepted an advertising offer.

Here too – to the left and right – it is clear.

And no, "your advertisement could not be here".

We will never do something like that.

Because this isn't about clicks, not about reach, but about life.

And yes, we share our lives.

Because it's our only chance.

Because it gives others hope.

Because we want to show that even when everything seems lost, you can keep fighting.

I don't want to get rich. I want to see my son laugh again.

I want my children to be happy. I want them to be able to be children again. That would be the most beautiful and only true wealth I could wish for.

And if that means giving up everything I've ever built – then so be it.

I wish I were sitting at my usual table again, with a beer and a sausage salad, talking about "the Staubs".

But that's over.

I'm one of those people are talking about now.

BUT I know that I'm doing everything right.

Because I fight.

Because I love.

I wouldn't wish the experience we've had on anyone – but I would wish the love we feel on anyone. For Oliver, for the twins, and for each other.

Giving up was never an option!

Thank you to everyone who gave, gives, and will give Oliver and us a chance at a life together.

Today at a Halloween Party of the Kindergarten. You really think turning off the machine would have been right?