War does not put life on pause. People who have been planning to become parents for a long time, or who have suddenly realized that they are ready to have a child because of what they had to live through, tell The Village Ukraine about finding courage to have a child, overcoming difficulties, and the unlikely upsides of a wartime pregnancy.

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Andrii Fril and Sasha Darmorhai

parents to Ostap and Solomiia

Andrii is a musician and a rapper. Sasha works in media and teaches Ukrainian to foreign speakers. They found out Sasha was pregnant with twins in January 2022, a month before the full-scale invasion.

Andrii: At some point we both realized that we can’t put it off any longer. Sometimes it feels like people are holding themselves back from being happy. I remember feeling that way when I was thinking about proposing to Sasha. Everything was obvious to me from early on, so why wait? I knew that we were both ready and that we were mature enough. Maybe we still had some outstanding material issues – for example, we didn’t own our home. But is that a reason to put off having a child?

When we found out Sasha was pregnant, there was already a lot of tension. She tested positive in January; everyone was talking about the war since November. Maps indicating bomb shelters throughout the city started to appear, and I went to check the nearest one.

In December 2021 I checked the shelter in our building, and it was faulty. In January 2022 we found out about the pregnancy.

I asked myself: “What are we going to do? Are we going to succumb to this fear?!” We were really happy. The pregnancy coincided with a wonderful time in our lives, I was doing lots of creative stuff. We decided to just live our lives.

Sasha tells Andrii that she is pregnant

Sasha: On 20 January [2022], I had an ultrasound to confirm my pregnancy and saw that there were two eggs. First I thought that maybe it was just one, seen from different angles, but my head was already full of other thoughts. Then the doctor said “Oh, double trouble!” – such a cliche.

Andrii: Another common way of putting it was that we were “off the hook” now because we were going to have two kids, a boy and a girl.

Sasha: When the full-scale war started, I was 10 weeks pregnant. During the 11th week, you’re supposed to get some mandatory screenings [a test to detect fetal genetic pathologies - ed.] Our test was postponed from the 11th week to the 19th. I registered at the hospital at 25 weeks, though normally this happens by week 12. I was only able to do it when we came back to Kyiv: there was no good gynecologist or good labs in the town where we were first staying.

During the first weeks of the war my toxicosis symptoms miraculously and abruptly disappeared. Later I’d get nauseous sometimes but I didn’t know if it was because of the pregnancy or stress.

As I was trying to be useful during that emotional time I would often forget I was pregnant.

Looking at the photos from Bucha and Irpin I couldn’t believe it was all real, I didn’t have an immediate response – it kicked in later, and with force. I don’t know why I kept looking. There was so much stress. I’m very glad that my pregnancy was quite smooth and my children were not affected – or at least it seems now that they weren’t. Though of course I couldn’t enjoy being pregnant as I imagined I would. When I found out I was pregnant I immediately made a list of courses and trainings I wanted to attend, but in the end I only started preparing to give birth in week 30. It’s the same with being parents now: we can’t enjoy it fully.

And though I’m delighted to be a mother and I allow myself to share photos and write about my children, I often stop myself, as if I’m not allowed to enjoy it fully. It’s a bit easier now, but before my kids were born, I wouldn’t let myself share much about my pregnancy. I thought it would be inappropriate with the war going on.

The war made me feel as though my life was suspended. And though we weren’t planning a pregnancy photoshoot anyway [a relatively common thing in Ukraine - ed.], I was still upset that this amazing part of my life was going by, and I would let it slip and forget it. I liked how I looked with my big belly. In the end we just went for a walk and took a picture to remember the pregnancy by.

Andrii: We had hoped to travel a lot during Sasha’s pregnancy, and we even managed to visit Copenhagen in early February [2022]. By the way, that was the last time in over a year that I’ve had a good night’s sleep. Tension in Ukraine was terrible; when we got there we felt a bit of calm. Our next trip was planned for 25 February. We canceled our Airbnb reservation just three hours before [Russian forces] crossed the border. I read on Twitter that that was it, the invasion was underway. I said “Darling, we have to cancel the reservation.” Sasha didn’t budge until the last moment, saying “Well, maybe the war won’t happen. I want to visit Budapest.”

Sasha went to sleep and I stayed up thinking about what we should do. I could already hear explosions. I wrote to everyone I knew. I wasn’t sure whether to wake her up: no one wants to wake their pregnant wife with the words “the war has started”. A translator from the media outlet she worked for woke her; she said she was running behind on her translation because she had to evacuate from Kharkiv, where everything around her seemed to explode.

Sasha: Before all the medical check-ups, and before you give birth, you have to sign an agreement that you have no objections against receiving medical care during an air-raid. Often you are able to go to a shelter, but for example if the air raid warning is issued when the doctor is trying to hear your baby’s heartbeat, and it’s taken them a while to tune in, and they’ve just hooked a sensor up, then no one goes anywhere. They have to complete the exam.

The night of 24 August: Sasha and Andrii in the corridor at the maternity ward where their children were born; Sasha rests her head against the incubator with her children as she sleeps

Andrii: Our children were born on 23 August, National Flag Day. On the first day of their lives, 24 August, the Russians launched the most extensive missile attack to date. They spent the first day of their lives in a bomb shelter. We didn’t go down to the basement but stayed in the corridor of the maternity ward: the twins were placed in a warm incubator and it would have been impossible to bring them to the basement with us; we could have carried them, but they were very prone to getting very cold.

I also often think about the fact that our children have so far spent most of their lives in the dark. We lived on the 19th floor and have experienced countless power outages, including a complete blackout when we had no power, running water, or heat for four or five days. It was pretty weird, sometimes our neighbors would have power and we wouldn’t.

Sasha: I tied little lights to my children’s toys so they could see them – it gets dark so early in winter. Of course one advantage of this whole situation is that they slept a lot. But I was really worried about how they’d develop without being able to see much.

Sasha and Andrii’s son Ostap

Andrii: I film my kids a lot so they can watch those videos later and know that they were part of a historic time. I recorded the first video right after I found out I will be a father. In it, I’m sitting at the kitchen table and saying something like this into the camera: “Sweet kids, hello. I’ve just found out that we will have you. In the present circumstances we can’t know what might happen – the Russian army is at the border. But everything will be alright.” I filmed the next video from a bomb shelter: “Dear kids, we are in a bomb shelter, the full-scale war has started.”

Sasha: At first we called this series of videos “The diary of your life” but then Andrii renamed it “The diary of the war”.

Andrii: I’m sad that the Russians first robbed us of our pregnancy, and now they’re robbing us of our parenthood. It’s a very difficult situation: the circumstances prevent you from fully experiencing your emotions and you see your life as though through a filter: everything is gray and desaturated. Being the parents of twins is very difficult. Now we don’t even have an opportunity to recharge and to make up for all the sleep deprivation because there are wartime troubles on top of everything else.

Sasha: I think that until I experience peacetime again I won’t quite realize how tired I am. Still, the comparison won’t be entirely accurate because peacetime will come after the war, and I will already have this experience of living through the war with my kids. They don’t know peace yet. They only know war, nothing else. That’s terrible.

Ivan Vyshtaliuk

father to Ivanka

Ivan is serving in the Armed Forces of Ukraine. He enlisted as a volunteer on 24 February 2022. His wife Olena lived through the Russian occupation of Bucha. The couple decided to become parents after Olena was able to leave the town.

Ivan: I’m not currently deployed to the combat zone, but I’ve taken part in hostilities. When I went to the military enlistment office on 24 February [2022], Bucha was already being pummeled, so we immediately started to carry out combat missions, so to speak. Of course I had no idea what Olena would have to live through. I still wonder whether I did the right thing when I joined the Ukrainian Armed Forces instead of staying with her during that time because she spent the Russian occupation hiding in a basement. Unfortunately, she witnessed things I wish she didn’t have to witness.

We weren’t married when the full-scale invasion started. Olena once joked that we won’t get married until Putin attacks Ukraine. Well, on 24 February I proposed. I went to the military enlistment office the same day. We didn’t get to all the marriage paperwork until April when I had a couple of days off – for the first time since February – and could finally see Olena. I’d only seen her once since I enlisted: when her evacuation convoy from Bucha passed not far from where I was deployed. I begged my commander to let me go see her. We only spent a couple minutes together, but it was a very emotional moment.

We started talking about having a child as soon as we got married. To be honest, I was a bit hesitant: Kyiv was pretty frightening at the time. I’ve never seen my city like that before. It was as if it was being raped. I looked at the city, and it moved me in strange ways. Olena, on the other hand, was determined. I asked her “Are you sure it’s the best time for this?” She said it was as good of a time as ever. That’s when we decided to have a child.

Olena’s resolve made an impression on me. I looked at her and I thought that maybe it really was the right time to have a child and set out on that big journey.

Our apartment block in Bucha was damaged, but our apartment was intact and we could still live there. Though for now I live at my military base and Olena lives with her parents in Kyiv; she was struggling on her own.

As far as I know, military personnel with children don’t receive any additional benefits, though they are allowed to take a family leave – 10 days at most – when the child is born. When Olena was pregnant I tried to visit her as much as I could. I was deployed not that far from Kyiv and could see her maybe twice a month or so. I’m very lucky with my commanders, we have a good relationship, so I was able to see my wife quite a lot.

When Olena’s water broke, I was told to drop everything and go see her. When I got to the hospital I wasn’t allowed into the ward for a while. I knew that doctors were monitoring her and that everything was fine, but I was still anxious: what if my leave ended before she gave birth, or as soon as she gave birth? I wanted to spend as much time as possible with her and our baby.

Now I’m taking every opportunity to spend time with them, but Ivanka is growing so quickly. Olena sends me photos of her and I see her change every week. Sometimes at the military base I imagine what she looks like, and then Olena sends me a picture of her and I realize that she has already changed, her cheeks have grown plumper.

Right now my biggest worry is that she will forget me or won’t recognize me.

Because everytime I see her, her face has a different expression on it. She really is growing up.

Has parenthood changed me? Has it made me more sensible or prudent? Probably not. But I started noticing that most of the time my thoughts are there [with my wife and daughter], not here. I’ve never been like that, and now all I want to do is look at the photos.

I’m really worried about them whenever air-raid warnings are issued; lots of missiles are launched at Kyiv. During power outages they were trying to make sure to go out when the elevator in their apartment block was operational. But the worst thing is that during power outages they had no heat, either. They were trying everything they could think of to keep the room warm. I’m glad spring is here. I hope that the worst is already behind us.

Ania and Vitalii Shashurin

parents to Luka and Zakhar

Ania is an interior designer and a marketing expert. Vitalii is a restaurant owner and a coffee roaster. They found out Ania was pregnant with their second son in April 2022.

Ania: We talked about wanting to have kids but never had any rigid plans or deadlines. Children choose when they want to be born. When our first son Luka was two-and-a-half we decided it was time to start thinking about another child. But of course we weren’t talking about it after the full-scale war started. The pregnancy was a pleasant surprise for both of us.

I wasn’t feeling well and could barely walk, but that wasn’t particularly unusual – everyone was feeling like that that spring. We hardly gave it a second thought. It didn’t even cross my mind that I could be pregnant.

When we found out that’s what it was, we felt fear and delight in equal measure because on the one hand, we worried that stress might do something to our child, but on the other, a new, great joy entered our life.

I was also really afraid of giving birth, I just had no idea where and how I’d do it. I was afraid it would happen in a basement somewhere, and that my husband might not even be near me.

I was really annoyed when people said “Don’t look at the news, don’t read anything, don’t pay attention: your task is to carry the child.” Has anyone ever stopped being anxious because they were told to?! It only made me more furious. But of course I was also worried about the child’s health on a purely physiological level in light of all the stress and anxiety. We fled abroad before I found out I was pregnant. I was carrying my first son, our bags, trolleys. But feeling physically unwell made me really worried about my child’s health.

During my first pregnancy I worked until my due date, even tried to make some corrections [to the project I was working on] during the actual delivery. I didn’t want the second pregnancy to be like that, I was hoping it would be more restful. I thought maybe I’d knit something for the baby, read books, go for walks in a park. But when I got pregnant the second time – when I processed it – I got really angry, because I wanted my pregnancy to be different. I wanted to be by the sea, to travel, to dress nicely and feel good. Instead I got war, fear, poor health, and stress.

On the anniversary of the full-scale invasion I looked through the photos on my phone and realized I’d had no desire to take any pictures of myself all year. I have a picture from 23 February [2022] and then one from 27 February: a selfie with my older son, which I forced myself to take to capture history.

I didn’t let myself take any pictures for a long time. I couldn’t even think about it. Least of all pictures of myself. I couldn’t even make myself change my clothes, just wearing the same tracksuit for maybe a month. But about halfway through my pregnancy I realized that it wasn’t the child’s fault, and if he asks me later what I looked like while I carried him, I wouldn’t even have anything to show him. So I made myself take some pictures to remember that time by. I only really started thinking about taking pictures by the eighth, ninth month of the pregnancy. There aren’t many photos. I gave birth way before we expected, two weeks before the due date – I remember trying to somehow take a picture of myself in the maternity ward. I thought that way I would remember everything, but as it always happens, now I look at those photos and realize that I saw everything differently from how I see things now. 

I didn’t even allow myself to choose the baby’s name – I just wanted the child to be healthy.

I was very nervous in the last month before I gave birth. I didn’t know where I’d be giving birth, in Kyiv or Zhytomyr (in Kyiv we lived on the 23rd floor and there was often no power, but in Zhytomyr I didn’t really like my doctor’s approach), so the baby probably just decided to put an end to my agonizing and get himself born before the due date. I couldn’t plan or prepare for anything.

Vitalii: Ania woke me up in the middle of the night when her water broke. We hadn’t packed, the curfew was in place, our first son was asleep, our parents were in different cities, the obstetrician said she was 400 kilometers away – so we started to pack. Ania was crying because nothing was going according to the plan: the entire pregnancy was not what she wanted it to be and she wasn’t even able to give birth the way she wanted to. We woke up our former nanny, called her a taxi, then got into our car and drove to the maternity ward. The city was empty, the curfew was in place, I’m driving and thinking ‘Well, they can stop me, and when they ask me why I’m violating the curfew, I will tell them my wife is giving birth, and they’ll escort us [to the hospital] with flashing lights – like in movies.’”

When we got to the maternity hospital, they said: “Where is your Covid test?” I was very surprised that the Coronavirus was a relevant concern even during the war. I took a test. Ania kept crying that everything was not going according to her plans. Then she gave birth. It was so quiet all around us; there were no other people. It later turned out only three children were born that day: all expecting mothers must have left Zhytomyr; it really is a war zone.

Zhytomyr does this funny thing where they turn off the city’s water supply for a few days in the summer to carry out repairs of the waterworks. Our first son was born during those few days: it was +40ºC outside, and the city had no water. Our second son was born during the war, amid shelling and power outages. We were mostly worried that it would be cold and there would be no power, though we knew there was a generator in the maternity hospital. Of course we also stockpiled food and water, made sure we had torches and batteries in the pockets of all our clothes, but those preparations didn’t help at all. We still felt defenseless in the face of this enormous uncertainty.

Ania: I relaxed only after I gave birth. I was holding my baby in my arms when I suddenly realized that now that I could see and hold him, I was less afraid. Worst case scenario, I could grab him and run.

Vitalii: On the other hand, I felt as though I had more responsibility [after Ania gave birth].

If I had to describe the advantages of a wartime pregnancy, I would say that the best thing is that my attention shifted from the war to my wife and son. I was aware of everything that was happening, but I focused on my family. As though the existential fear was more localized and so less overwhelming.

Ania: I think that pregnancy helped me survive the darkness all around us, because it always served as a distraction. But I was furious that this great joy and happiness, something that we’d waited for and that we wanted, didn’t happen the way I hoped it would.

I don’t know what would've happened to me and what I would've done – or what Vitaliu would've done and where he would've gone and what he’d have gotten involved in – if it wasn’t for my pregnancy. It helped us stay together, and that was our first and most important decision. We decided to stay put and to stay together; we decided that we would be together when the time to give birth came. This pregnancy helped us stay near one another.

Translator: Olya Loza
Editor: Sam Harvey