Intimate conversation from a dugout: “My mom knows I'm at the front. She has never asked if I am alive”

I watched another report from the frontline by hromadske: a dugout of UAV operators, guys talking about the war and life. Everyday topics, everyday intonations. Suddenly, one of them sounded so tender and bitter that I held my breath. The man was telling me about his baby, born in the summer of 2022, about his mother, who had never asked if he was alive since the start of the full-scale war he volunteered for. In those words, there was the longing of a son who cannot even mentally lean on his mother, the longing of a father who was not recognized by his little child when he came home for rotation.

Our fighters liberate, destroy, storm, and attack — clad in armor and camouflage. We habitually call them indestructible “cyborgs”. But they miss their mothers' tender touch and the trusting hugs of their children.

I wanted to talk to that fighter. Not about the war. About him and his experiences. Let's get acquainted: Maksym from Bila Tserkva, 28 years old, almost 20 months at war. He is with the 4th Operational Brigade of the National Guard of Ukraine. The following is a monologue.

I lived in the same apartment with my mother, her brother, and grandparents. But I don't understand what home comfort is, which your mother creates. I always had the feeling that I was never in the first place in my mother's life.

It was like this: here's my son, and I don’t give a damn about him. I told my mother when I was still a schoolboy that my family would not be like ours.

She told me: “When you grow up, you will have your own child, then you will see.” I grew up, I have my own child. And my relationship with him is not the same as my mother's relationship with me.

My early childhood was in the 90sand when my father worked a lot, but there was little money, there always were family problems. When I was 9 years old, my parents divorced. My mother always spoke badly of my father. And I had to grow up a bit to realize how wrong she was. Because when I talked to my father, he was not at all like my mother said he was.

I don't understand why everyone says that a mother will never leave her child. My mom always wanted to live in Russia, she just dreamed of Moscow. My father is Ukrainian and my mother is Russian. Her father was a Soviet serviceman who served in Ukraine and stayed here. We have a lot of relatives in Russia, in Moscow.

When my mother left for Moscow, I was 11 years old. At the time, I didn't think about the fact that she left me, I was such a hooligan boy, I lived in my way. Later, as an adult, I thought that maybe I was a hooligan so that my mother would pay attention to me. At the time of my mother's departure, I had already realized that I didn't have a full-fledged family. My mom sent me some money, and I took it as her trying to pay me off. But at the same time — and this is terrible — I was counting on her money, I knew exactly when it would come. We talked on Skype. She would call once a month or once every two months. I could tell her about my smoking, my shenanigans, I could swear in a conversation with her. I didn't hide any of my quirks. I deliberately told her everything. As if saying, “Yeah, here you go, and what can you do to me for that?”

Would I want to live with her again? If I had a positive experience of such a life, I probably would.

After the 7th grade, my mother took me to Russia. Russia got me so sick of it back then that I am now at war against Russia. It was a military town of pilots near Moscow, where you could enter only with passes, even the police were not allowed. That life was a shock for me: one neighborhood goes to fight with another one; only one of the 14-year-old girls in the class was a virgin and everyone laughed at it; alcohol and synthetic drugs were used. I could not stand my stepfather, we fought with him, and he treated my mother badly. I was jealous of him. Perhaps because I subconsciously lacked her attention, and she was more concerned about her relationship with this man — she lived in Russia, and even took me away from Ukraine just to be with him. In Russia, I realized that in this world, everyone can gnaw the other and I need to survive somehow.

After the 9th grade, I went on vacation to my grandmother's house, burst into tears, and said that I would not return to my mother, and that I could no longer live there.

When the Maidan began, I was a first-year student at the University “Ukraine”, studying marketing. I went to the Maidan, scrubbed the pavement near the Lobanovsky Stadium, and was interested in Ukrainian history and Stepan Bandera. But no one supported me at home. My grandparents were very Soviet. I would go for a walk and the Ukrainian flag would disappear from my desk. I had a scandal with them. I wanted to go to the ATO back then, but my grandparents persuaded me to finish my studies. And I said that if the Russians continue to advance, I will not stay at home.

When the full-scale war began, I told my mother: you wanted to go to Russia all your life, and now look what your Russia is doing to us. My pregnant wife had to go to Poland to avoid hiding from shelling in the basement, and I'm in the territorial defense with an assault rifle — that's what you and your Russia have achieved. And she answers me in Russian: ‘We understand everything,’ ‘You just hang in there.’

And then the Shaheds hit Bila Tserkva hard, with destruction just a few blocks from our house. I sent the video to my mom and texted: look, here is our house, where you grew up, look what is happening in your hometown. She liked the video and did not respond. Since then, I decided for myself that I don't need my mom. Absolutely. That I have many close people who care about me and who I care about without her.

I don't want to make her look like some kind of monster. The person was just rushing somewhere, losing everything, I don't know how she lives now.

I'm very sorry that this happened, but I realize that there is nothing anyone can do to help our relationship now.

She knows I am at the front. She has never asked if I am alive. Most likely, she sees my posts on social media. Perhaps she was offended by my last post. But she could have moved past the offense and supported her son because he was in danger. This is the way it should be, and not only when it comes to war. But if she texted me right now as a mother would text her son, it would be too insincere, I wouldn't believe her.

There are situations when parents can lose their child's trust. Everyone has the right to make mistakes, including parents. And they have the right to get a chance to correct the situation. But I don't feel that my mom wants to fix anything.

Now I am a father, too, and I am afraid of losing my son's trust.

I know that there may be moments when my son will answer my question: “None of your business”. And this will be a blow to me. But it will be important how I react to this blow. All my future relationships with my child will depend on it. I know for sure that I will not call everyone I know and say that I have nothing to do with my child's actions like my mother did, instead of helping me in some situations. I will not think about my so-called authority first, and only then about my child's feelings.

I know what it's like when, in a difficult situation, your mother shuts you off, says that you have disgraced her, and leaves you completely defenseless, or even takes the side of your offenders. I want to be a friend to my children: we should share grief problems.

I will think primarily about support, not punishment. You don't have to play any role in front of children, you don't have to fake it, you have to be yourself and encourage children to be as sincere as you are. Without threatening a child. This is the most stupid thing you can do. I still remember my reaction to my mother's threats, for example, to throw me out of the house. Not to shove your hand in the child's head and say, “Do as I say”, but to explain the consequences of his or her actions, to explain how he or she will harm himself or herself with another rash step, to explain what he or she is wrong about. That's what my father used to do, but my mother never did.

My mother never apologized to me.

And I am convinced that parents must apologize to their children in certain situations. And learn to thank the child. Even the coolest, strictest dad has to learn this.

Because apologies and gratitude show respect for the child. And a child should be taught to thank his parents and apologize. Then the communication in the family will be equal, without scolding or humiliation. They say to love your child. What does it mean? I think it means helping a child to find yourself, and to understand yourself. I will take my son to all the clubs and sections he wants. I will never say “nonsense” about any of his hobbies.

I graduated from the university, but somehow life didn't work out, so I went into military service. I met Liza on Instagram. Then we met and talked about our childhood and our vision of a family. Our aspirations coincided. Liza is very reliable. Our life together began with the fact that in my difficult financial situation, she helped me without any further ado. And now I know that I can count on her and trust her. When I return from the war, and Liza and I will have another wedding. The first one was awesome, Liza loved it, but now I want to have a more emotional wedding. And we will have it.

Since I was a boy, I dreamed of a family of my own. So I got married, Liza was pregnant, and then the war started. And I told myself: I will go to the front only after I hold my child in my arms.

I couldn't give up on this dream. Bohdan was born on June 28, 2022, and Lisa returned from Poland with him in August. By that time, some of my friends from the conscript service had already been killed, and some were captured. It was very painful for me. And two weeks after my son's arrival, I signed a contract.

I'm an a**hole because I don't remember what day Liza told me we were going to have a son. She wanted a son, and I wanted a daughter.

I watched videos on the Internet about how men put ribbons in their daughters' hair, it was so touching. Maybe you're right, maybe I dreamed of a daughter who, unlike my mother, would always love me and I would have a great relationship with her. If I had a daughter, I would name her Solomia. Little Mia. Maybe she will be born someday. Raising girls is a more intimate story, it's about tenderness and gentleness. It's about raising a woman for whom family values will be important. And a boy is a slightly different case, it's about the willingness to take responsibility.

When Liza returned from Poland, Bohdan was almost two months old. I looked at him, took him in my arms, and was stunned. I cannot describe this feeling. This little person is my child.

Unfortunately, I am a remote father. Since Bohdan's birth, I have seen him for maybe three and a half months in total. But I'm lucky, I have rotations, and guys from other units may not have seen their children since the beginning of the war.

Now all the work of parenting is carried out by Liza. I like the way she handles it. She does everything the way I would do it if I were around: without restrictions and prohibitions, she allows our son to express himself and explore the world around him. Bohdan is young, and I don't know how to raise him from a distance. During my first rotations, I would come home and he would not recognize me. It was so sad. Liza now shows him my photos and tells him about me.

I used to grow up without a mother. My son is now growing up without me. But I know that I will have a very adequate conversation with him about this. It will be a conversation about life values.

I will tell him that being a man is not about genitals. That if I and people like me had not gone to the front, the whole of Ukraine would have turned into a Russian concentration camp

That I and other fathers did not abandon our children, but went to defend them because we love them so much. And that someday it may be his turn to defend his family and country, and that this is a man's duty. I want him to understand from his childhood how much our people have given up for the right to exist for their state and themselves. I want to have this conversation with my son.