Mothers at the front: it's either I am fighting or my child is fighting

In case of my death, my friends will become my children's guardians

Ivha says she will find a quiet place to call us. She's at the front right now. We communicate via messenger because she has no reception. And even that is interrupted from time to time.

To talk, the woman sat down at the entrance to the smoking room of the stabilization center. People talk, shout, and laugh up to this place and inside. But they pass by her in silence.

Yevheniia Kolesnichenko, call sign Ivha, is a 34-year-old widow. Her husband Yevhen was blown up on a tripwire during the defense of Bakhmut last November.

The Kolesnichenko family is from Avdiivka. They lived there until 2014, then in Kyiv. Yevheniia had been following the Hospitallers volunteer medical battalion even before the full-scale war. She wanted to join them. But in February last year, she and her husband decided that only one of them would fight. So she and her children left for Poland. Now their daughter Anna is almost 14, and twin sons, Matvii and Andrii, will soon turn 11.

Even before her husband died, Ivha brought him a car for the unit herself. Even then, Yevhen understood his wife's sentiments and secured her promise that she would not fight. But he knew that this would not hold her back. He knew that she would not stay away. So when, after her husband's death, she returned home to Ukraine with the firm intention of going to war, she found a neatly folded uniform of her size, thermal underwear, and things she needed to go to the front.

“I decided I had to join a medical battalion. I will save the soldiers so that there will be at least a little less women like me, widows,” thewoman smokes, so her sentences are fragmented.

In the winter, she left for her first rotation.

“I left my children in Poland with a close friend with whom I left Ukraine together. She offered to look after the kids until the end of the school year, while I was studying and going on rotation,” the woman says.

Now Anna, Matvii, and Andrii live with Ivha's sister in Kyiv. Their grandparents from both sides are in the occupied territory.

“It's hard for my sister, it's hard for everyone. But she agreed because the children are not little anymore, they can take care of themselves and entertain themselves. I transferred them completely to online learning to reduce the risks of going to school and searching for a bomb shelter. I took care of the living conditions so that everyone had their own space. To do this, I made repairs, plus I am responsible for their material support. They are doing well, everything is settled, they get on well,” says Ivha.

We are talking about her choice — the choice of a mother to leave her children to go to war.

“When my husband died, I wanted to be active. The stage of volunteering was no longer satisfactory. I felt that I needed more. I could have stayed with my children, looked at the ceiling, and cried endlessly for my husband. But I chose to be far away, but do something useful.

My motivation is to bring as many soldiers home or back into service as possible so that they are more or less healthy. My motivation is to fight instead of my children so that they don't have to in the future. This is how I protect them. My motivation is to replace my husband. Although I can't fully do it, because he was a sniper. But it's one more person in the army,” she explains.

According to Ivha, most Ukrainians should join the ranks in one way or another. It is not necessary to hold combat or assault positions. There are other positions, but they are also useful and necessary.

“Everyone has their own choice, and I cannot condemn those who have left or are at home with their children. There are indeed different situations when there is no one to leave them with. However, you can go to the military enlistment office in your city and fill out the paperwork. Go to the service as if it were an office. And the men who sit in the military enlistment office could serve in combat positions. If you want to, you can always find a way. And if not, women are not currently liable for military service. No one can force them to go anywhere,” thedoctor reflects.

She was accused of what would happen to her children if she died. She says she has thought about this option. Her friends will become the children's guardians.

“I am in constant contact with my children now: videos, phone calls, and family group chat. They know what's going on with me, and I know what's going on with them,” adds Ivha.

After 9 months as a volunteer, she was mobilized to the Armed Forces of Ukraine. Now she serves in the 5th Kyiv separate assault brigade. She works at a stabilization center. She still rescues the wounded as before. This decision has its pros and cons.

With the Hospitallers, everything was quite flexible: you were a free bird, and you could return to the battalion from a rotation, or not. And under contract with the Armed Forces, you are completely under the control of the army. You can't say: “My child is sick, I’ll go home.”

“I really love the Hospitallers battalion, these people. But they have no official status. If something happens to me, whether I am injured or killed, my children will not have any state support. So I also took care of them in this way. I exchanged my free schedule for guarantees for my children in the future,” explains Ivha.

Every day, her motivation and confidence in the right choice only grow stronger. Especially when she sees that she has managed to save a wounded man. Keeping busy and helping others in the moment is healing for her, a person in grief.

You are not a mother, you are a stepmother

She is known on social media as Valiko Korobkadze. She is loved and admired. She often announces fundraisers for military needs, and people around her take them up. In fact, this brave, cheerful woman with dreadlocks is named Valentyna Korobka.

During the Revolution of Dignity in Poltava, she met two Georgians among the local Maidan activists: Valiko and Jonberi. Valia and Valiko came to the regional council every day. Jonberi would meet them and shout joyfully: “Valiko!”. That's how Valia became Valiko. And Korobokadze is what her aunt was called as a child because she had dark hair and looked like a Georgian.

Now 29-year-old Valiko is at war, separated from her 2-year-old son Sasha.

In 2015, her significant other was killed near Sakhanka near Mariupol. At some point, she decided that she had to take his place. She remembered his words: “If we do not defend Mariupol, they will come to Poltava and Kyiv. Then our children will have no place to live, no place to raise their children.”

These words still guide her to this day. And she continues to pass on this message to convey it to people who do not see death, do not feel pain every day, and do not know about the moral pressure in the army, where you are not sure how long you will last.

“Everyone who is at war feels bad that the people we are defending do not understand this. They are not preparing for the war and reserve the right to say that they are holding the financial, educational, or some other front. But they must realize now that things will get worse. And more fighters are needed to deter the enemy. Anyone can choose a suitable military profession and train,” says Valiko, who we also talk to via the Internet.

By 2019, she had matured a desire to fight, but she was also afraid. Looking at the girls of the Women's Veterans Movement, who turned out to be great soldiers, performing tasks on a par with men, one day she realized that she was ready.

Valiko signed a contract and decided to serve as a driver because she has been driving since she was a little girl: she grew up in a farmer's family with large machinery. At the military enlistment office, she met a recruiter from the 17th Tank Brigade. He opened a laptop and said: “Take your pick”. There were positions for a tank driver and an infantry fighting vehicle driver. She was more interested in the latter.

In 2021, she got married and gave birth to a son the same year. At the time of the full-scale invasion, he was not even six months old. Even then, the woman was eager to join her brothers in arms. But she stayed with her son until this summer, breastfeeding him.

In August, Valiko returned to duty. But not as an infantry fighting vehicle driver, but as a kamikaze drone pilot. The commander set this condition because “an infantry fighting vehicle is a very visible target. And many mechanics from the company have already been killed.”

Now she is happy to shoot down enemy targets. But the topic of separation from her son hurts her.

“I was torn by thoughts: on the one hand, I have to fight, on the other hand, I am a mother and I want to be with him. I waited until he started walking and became more or less independent. I agreed with my husband and my parents that they would take care of him.

I understand that the bond between mother and child is formed from birth, and no one else can replace a mother. I understand this and sacrifice my child's right to have his mother by his side. I made this sacrifice because Russia attacked us, and now I have to defend my son in this way. I don't want him to go to war,” she explains her decision.

No matter what choice Valiko makes, there is no avoiding the pain: either she is with the child or her friends die because she does not use her experience and knowledge to save their lives. Or she is a “bad mom”. Strangers, relatives, and even her husband tell her this: “You are not a mother, you are a stepmother.”

At some point, he stopped understanding and supporting Valiko because of her choice. He believes that the army is a meat grinder where people are used. He does not believe that people go there at the call of their hearts and that everyone should contribute to victory. Now the couple is in the process of separation.

“Not everyone who tells me that I am a bad mother can do even a fraction of what I have done: from willpower to actions and deeds. Are you capable of protecting your children at the cost of your own life?” thewoman replies to the haters.

For Valiko, the hardest part is not seeing her son for months. Although they are constantly in touch via video, it is no substitute for a real hug.

“He's growing up, changing so fast. And when I manage to get to him, he is already completely different. When I arrive, I want to take him in my arms, and he squirms. He's shy as if I were some kind of a stranger. It hurts like hell,” Valiko hopes that Sasha will not remember the traumatic experience of being separated from her. And when he grows up, he will understand her choice and be proud of it.

This is my life and my family's life

Lesia Lytvynova, the 46-year-old founder of the Svoi Charitable Foundation, has five children: Solia is 3, Varia is 9, Vitalik is 14, Polina is 24, and Anastasiia is 27.

Lesia and her husband serve in a sapper platoon. Now she is at home, recovering from spinal surgery. We are talking on the phone, with a child's babbling in the background of her thoughtful voice.

She says she did not plan to fight until 2022: “I didn't feel like I was needed at war.”

Before the invasion, she gathered all the children (the youngest was one and a half years old, and the older ones were already living separately) at her home. In a village between Dymer and Hostomel. She thought it would be safer there. On February 24, she and her husband went to Kyiv, which is about 50 kilometers away. They worked all night at the foundation, and meanwhile, the village was occupied. In the morning, she could not get home.

“I had to go to war. Of the three reactions to stress — fight, run away, freeze — I always choose to fight. New companies and new battalions were being formed in the yard of the military enlistment office. Of course, I was eager to rescue my children, but you never know where a unit will be, and you can't always be where you want to be. And I didn't have my own tank.

We found ourselves defending Kyiv and the Kyiv region. And fighting was the only thing that helped, even if it was on the wrong piece of land. There is a guy from Bakhmut in our unit. From the very first days, he was shouting: ‘When are we going to Bakhmut? When are we going to Bakhmut?’ And by the time we got to Bakhmut, the city no longer existed,” sherecalls being filled with horror around the clock.

She was not sure if she would ever see her children again. Sometimes she managed to get through to them. They said there was no electricity or gas, and food was running out, but the house was intact. She exhaled: they were alive.

Three weeks later, the Russians were letting a few people out of the village. And the younger Lytvynovs had to urgently decide whether they agreed to go or not. They called their parents. Lesia and her husband crossed themselves: “Go, children.” Everything worked out fine.

“If you ask me why I didn't leave the army as soon as they were liberated from the occupation, I'll tell you: ‘The war is not for two days or three, there will be no barbecues next year or in a few years. So either I am fighting or my child is fighting. I don't want to see my children where I was, under any circumstances’,” thewoman is determined.

The hardest part of being separated is that she is not with them and does not know if they will meet again. It is a torment to part with them.

Instead, she reacts calmly to the haters:

“I have not paid attention to the remarks that I am not like that since the Maidan. I've been called everything from a ‘porokhobot’ to a Kremlin agent to a Banderite. If I was, I would have gone crazy by now. This applies to my place in the war and my motherhood. This is my life and my family's life, these are our decisions.”