{"id":165940,"date":"2026-06-11T16:39:58","date_gmt":"2026-06-11T13:39:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/theukrainians.org\/chekaty-dytynu-vid-voina\/"},"modified":"2026-10-30T14:41:02","modified_gmt":"2026-10-30T12:41:02","slug":"carrying-a-warriors-child","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/theukrainians.org\/en\/carrying-a-warriors-child\/","title":{"rendered":"Carrying a Warrior\u2019s Child"},"content":{"rendered":"\n\n\n
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This essay was made possible thanks to the support of The Ukrainians Media community \u2014 hundreds of people who believe in independent, high-quality journalism. If you value our work, consider supporting us<\/span> and help us tell more meaningful stories.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t

\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\tSupport<\/a>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\t\t\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t<\/div>\n\n\n\n\n

\u201cWe got the L200 \u2014 I\u2019mma call him on Signal. Tell the commander I\u2019m on my way,\u201d men in tactical clothing chatter near a scuffed-up pickup truck somewhere in a frontline city.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cHoney, you do that to him again, and I will end you!\u201d A disheveled mother of two toddlers racing ahead of her on a balance bike and a scooter interrupts the soldiers\u2019 conversation.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cIt\u2019s not working out between Tania and me\u2026\u201d As I walk, I overhear a young guy in a tracksuit confiding in an old man near the building entrance. \u201cHow come?\u201d says the old man in surprise. \u201cYour star signs are a perfect match!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Meanwhile, in a small caf\u00e9 nearby, the life-affirming \u201cVolare, ooooh, cantare, ooooh\u201d plays against the backdrop of a shrill siren and the announcement: \u201cAir raid alert. Threat of guided bombs. Please proceed to the shelter,\u201d to which none of the aforementioned locals react. Except for the old man, who sighs (either because of hearing yet another siren or the young man\u2019s confession) and raises an eyebrow, quickly returning to the conversation about Tania.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

That\u2019s how my days would go when I visited the frontline towns. In between brief encounters with my husband, interviewing soldiers for my podcast, and delivering cars and supplies to various units, I\u2019d wander the streets of these cities and towns, soaking up the local vibe. This lifestyle was quite different from the relatively measured pace I was used to in Lviv. And it does have its own beauty \u2014 you live as if every day is your last, because in those few short hours with your loved one, you manage to do much more than some people do in years in peaceful cities. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then my husband would leave for a mission, and I\u2019d return home and try to find the money to buy another car for yet another unit \u2014 and this way, have another chance to see him. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But one time, everything went differently. A few weeks after one of my trips, I found out I was pregnant. I sat there for about three hours staring at the test, smoking one cigarette after another. Then I took three more tests. Then I edited a podcast. Later, I looked at the tests again. I threw away the pack of cigarettes. Then I filled out a customs declaration for yet another car for the frontline, paid the bills for drone detectors and generators and then stared at the test again. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

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It was a much-wanted child, and the news made my heart race.<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

But I couldn\u2019t imagine how to balance pregnancy with my work in the combat zone (I\u2019m not in the military \u2014 I\u2019m a war correspondent) and besides\u2026 Would I be able to handle carrying a child while worrying about my husband, a Marine, with whom I could lose contact for days on end? After all, he didn\u2019t serve in a rear-area town \u2014 he was right in the thick of it. And because of that, my heart no longer pounded \u2014 it froze with uncertainty. But my husband, like a true Marine, said that there are no missions that can\u2019t be accomplished, and that together we\u2019d get through it. So I continued with the pregnancy.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s true \u2014 it was a pregnancy filled with anxiety, which could only be briefly stifled by a sense of responsibility for my older son, a first-grader or by my work and even more so by my volunteer work: I continued fundraising, buying drones and electronic warfare equipment and even managed to deliver some cars to the front myself. All of this took a great deal of time and effort; sometimes I forgot to eat, and sometimes I even forgot that I was pregnant. Some might say that pregnancy should be accompanied by peace and quiet, that it\u2019s all about going to manicures and having coffee with friends. But that\u2019s not how it works: pregnancy unfolds as your circumstances and conditions dictate, especially when you\u2019re the wife of a soldier during wartime, a soldier deployed to a dangerous hotspot. So it\u2019s better for the pregnancy to go hand in hand with a fast-paced life and multitasking than to spend your time sitting by the window, agonizing over devastating news and never-ending obituaries. And you certainly shouldn\u2019t beat yourself up when you serve your older child a fast-food dinner (it\u2019s still food) or the occasional cigarette you smoke. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

But with nightfall, the fear would return. I couldn\u2019t fall asleep until he texted to say he was okay; I\u2019d set my phone to the loudest setting and put it under my pillow, hoping he\u2019d text during the night. In the morning, I\u2019d take my older son to school, and during the minute of silence, I\u2019d sob (pregnancy hormones mess with your body like crazy \u2014 they don\u2019t take into account that there\u2019s a war going on), and then the panic would set in, a fog so thick that I couldn\u2019t always get to work on time. Sometimes I even had panic attacks \u2014 my whole body would stop responding (during such moments, I was most afraid of being behind the wheel, especially with my child in the car; so I\u2019d immediately look for a spot on the side of the road to wait it out). <\/p>\n\n\n\n

And then a second checkmark would appear in our Signal chat. A few minutes later, both checkmarks would fill in, and \u201ctyping\u2026\u201d would appear next to my husband\u2019s username, and the long-awaited message would arrive. My heart would calm, and the whirlwind of panic and emotions inside me would quickly subside \u2014 I\u2019d make some coffee and talk to him for a few minutes. I\u2019d tell him that I could feel our baby moving, send him a photo of the latest ultrasound, and hear his voice tremble as he struggled to hold back tears. And I\u2019d feel the same way. He\u2019d ask what we needed to buy for the baby and why I hadn\u2019t packed my hospital bag yet. Then we\u2019d discuss together what we\u2019ll name the baby and who we\u2019ll choose as godparents. A brief conversation \u2014 and by evening, I\u2019d have the strength to live and move forward again. But then the anxiety would creep up on me again, building up and lodging itself in my throat.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

A few months before I got pregnant, my husband\u2019s best friend was killed in action. He didn\u2019t live to see the birth of his child. I read his wife\u2019s social media posts and sobbed together with her \u2014 I don\u2019t know if there could be any greater pain than losing the person who was your whole world. My husband took over her husband\u2019s duties, and shortly after that, I became pregnant. So now I was constantly haunted by the thought of whether our little one would ever get to meet his dad, whether he\u2019d get to hear his voice, and whether my husband would be with me during the birth. I know that we all have different fates and life stories, but fear is a terrible thing \u2014 obsessive and uncontrollable; it gnaws away quickly and mercilessly, hammering even the most far-fetched scenarios into your mind. What hurt the most, though, were the questions asked by those around me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

People asked me what I would do \u201cif he didn\u2019t come back\u201d or \u201cif he comes back without an arm or a leg.\u201d \u201cWhat if, in addition to the baby, you\u2019d have to take care of him too?\u201d \u201cWhy are you having a baby if he\u2019s over there<\/em>?\u201d \u201cCouldn\u2019t you have waited until it\u2019s all over?\u201d \u201cHow will you manage with two kids on your own?\u201d \u201cHe should pay someone off and get discharged \u2014 people do that all the time!\u201d \u201cYesterday, a woman saved her son from the draft officers \u2014 serves them right, the scumbags \u2014 but what about yours? He\u2019s still out there!\u201d And\u2026 the icing on the cake: \u201cAt least, if anything happens to him, you\u2019ll get the money.\u201d <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I brushed off these \u201cexperts.\u201d Often, without mincing my words. If you hear even one such question during your pregnancy, get as far away from the people who asked it as possible.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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My two girlfriends and my mom became my rock: they knew when to stay silent, when to come over, when to help and when to take my car in for repairs \u2014 and most importantly, how to make sure the others didn\u2019t bother me.<\/strong><\/p>\n<\/blockquote>\n\n\n\n

Our empathy towards one another is slowly eroding.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I\u2019d go to doctor\u2019s appointments and ultrasounds on my own, waiting silently in the hallway, surrounded by sweet couples \u2014 the men held their wives\u2019 hands and stroked their bellies. I\u2019d close my eyes so I wouldn\u2019t burst into tears right there in the waiting room (it\u2019s the hormones, you know?). I didn\u2019t pack a bag for the maternity ward because the whole process annoyed and hurt me terribly. But every time I went to the maternity ward for a checkup, I\u2019d see some big guy lugging that damn bag and accompanying his wife to the delivery room. They had everything thought out and planned down to the smallest detail: the two of them would dutifully go to ultrasounds and checkups together, shop for beautiful baby clothes together (a whole bagful), and when contractions started, he\u2019d run to warm up the car, load the bag into it and drive his wife to the hospital. And while I was watching these totally normal hospital scenes unfold, my husband was warming up his military pickup truck somewhere around Pokrovsk. Will he be there to warm up our car when my contractions start?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

During my pregnancy, I plucked up the courage to travel east twice, both to spend time with my husband and work: during those trips, I recorded a lion\u2019s share of the podcasts, which turned out really well; I suppose the little one was \u201chelping out,\u201d just as, nine years ago, my older child \u201chelped\u201d me write a three-volume memorial to fallen soldiers. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even people close to me tried to talk me out of it, but I went anyway, because I wanted my partner to stroke my belly and talk to the baby (even if it was in a small summer kitchen where they lived in their sleeping bags); I wanted to hold his hand and go for walks (even if it was in battered Petropavlivka near the front line); I wanted to have a gender reveal party (even if it took place in an old military pickup truck on the \u201croad of life\u201d covered in anti-drone nets), I wanted to have dinner together at a restaurant (even if it was \u201cShawarma\u201d in Pavlohrad), and I wanted a maternity photo shoot. By the way, we managed to do it just a few days before I gave birth, and I\u2019m so happy about that. So go for all of it! Have gender reveal parties and all kinds of photo shoots at every opportunity. But what I wanted most of all was for our child to have a living dad\u2026<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On my way back on the train from Dnipro to Lviv, after another round of podcast recordings and travels along various \u201croads of life,\u201d I finally found myself distracted by a lighthearted lecture on pregnancy. A sweet, gentle male voice from the lecture was saying something along the lines of: \u201cPregnancy is a happy time when a woman should rest, take care of herself, stay calm and leave most of the work to her husband\u201d; so, \u201cwhen you wake up in the morning,\u201d said the sweet voice, \u201cask your husband to make and bring you some coffee.\u201d At that moment, the morning sunlight started streaming through the dusty train window, and the door to my compartment burst open with a clatter. There stood a half-asleep conductor with tousled hair: \u201cD\u2019you want coffee?\u201d \u201cYes, I\u2019ll have some.\u201d \u201cInstant or, what\u2019s it called\u2026 A drip? Take the drip \u2014 it\u2019s better, and the profits from it go to the army. Would you like to support the Ukrainian army?\u201d I nodded: \u201cI\u2019ll support them:) Bring me that coffee!\u201d The compartment door slammed shut again, and the conductor went to make me coffee. I started laughing hysterically \u2014 a train conductor was making morning coffee for the pregnant wife of a combat Marine. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could hardly imagine how to go on taking care of two children on my own, waiting for calls from him for the fifth year in a row and dreading a call from his unit\u2019s medic. I suppose all you can do is hold on, fall apart, pull yourself together and then fall apart again. And I know that dozens of women with two or more children have been living through this for five years now, waiting for their husbands to return from the war. I wanted to take action\u2026 It may have been my weakness, or it may have been my strength. But miraculously, in the final month of my pregnancy, my husband finally received a letter of recommendation. It was our Christmas miracle. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My husband was by my side every minute \u2014 through half a day of contractions (he didn\u2019t even step outside to smoke), when they took me in for surgery (he insisted on being in the operating room with me) and throughout my recovery. The whole time, he held my hand, kissed me, and told me I was doing great and that he was proud of me. When I saw the baby peeking out from behind the operating room curtain, I looked over at my husband, and the first thing that crossed my mind was, \u201cOur little one has a living dad.\u201d That brought me the greatest happiness. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

During the birth of our little one, I no longer saw a stern Marine but a caring, tender husband \u2014 a dad. Such a striking contrast: they know exactly how to be what they need to be in two different circumstances \u2014 at the frontline and at home; something that those who didn\u2019t have the guts to defend their country will probably never be able to do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I think having a child with a soldier during wartime is a form of protest. We shape our own destiny, and our children will certainly be able to tell the difference between a hero and a coward who, when the going got tough, hid away in his cozy condo, ordering takeout for five years in a row just to avoid defending his family.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Translated from Ukrainian by Liubov Kukharenko<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n