ENGWhat's it like to wait for your partner to come back from the front? We asked three Ukrainian women

“In Ukraine, ‘military wife’ is a rare social designation that a person does not need to apply for. She doesn’t need to sign any documents or consent to assume this status. She is just given this designation [by the state],” Ivona Kostyna, a cofounder of Veteran Hub, a Ukrainian NGO dealing with veteran affairs, tells The Village Ukraine.

People whose loved ones are fighting on the front are not seen as heroes. They rarely figure in the public discourse, the state does not offer them any assistance, and the people around them often can’t grasp the challenges they face. Iryna Vyhovska, an editor at The Village Ukraine, interviewed three women whose husbands are in the military about their daily lives, raising children while their fathers are away, putting their lives on hold, their trouble focusing, and stressed-induced health issues.

Цей текст також можна прочитати українською.

 

Iryna Okhrymenko, 31

   

My husband joined the military on 24 February 2022. It came as a shock to me, though he did always like playing Counter-Strike. [She smiles] He didn’t ask for my advice. He just told me: “Honey, I’m going.” It was a scary moment for me, not least because I was left alone with our kid. Our son was just one year and eight months old at the time.

We were living with my dad, and my dad and husband both joined the military. On the one hand, that made things easier: they served together for a couple of months, were close to each other, and everyone in their unit knew they were father and son. I knew they would take care of one another and protect one another, so I think that was good for me at the time.

My father used to be in the military, I knew that he was more prepared for it. I worried more about my husband. Before the full-scale invasion, he had nothing to do with the military, he had an admin position in a clothes store. He was also exempt from service because he had a stroke when he was a kid, but he was able to get his exemption canceled.

 

Being alone

I think that time was the hardest time in my life. I woke up from the sound of explosions on the first day of the full-scale war, and my husband and dad went to a military enlistment office that same day. I first went to stay with my husband’s parents in Kryvyi Rih and then to Denmark.

Moving to another country was unimaginably difficult. I traveled for three days all on my own. I crossed the Romanian border by foot, carrying a backpack, a suitcase, and my son – it was freezing in the middle of winter. As soon as we crossed the border I started looking for someone who could help us, and my son fell and hit his head just as I looked away. He still has the scar from that fall.

Then I had to get used to a new country with a different climate and a different mentality. As time went on, I realized I wasn’t doing well being away from Ukraine at all, so I decided to go back to Ukraine – a huge responsibility. It was very difficult and scary. My son is my first child and I didn’t know what would be best for him. During those times, the toughest of times, when I had nothing I could lean on, I felt reality melt away. It was as if I was living in a horror film. I couldn’t believe it was all happening to me in reality. I knew I had to do it for my son. The only thing I could hold on to was my mother’s instinct.

Selfish decisions

Sometimes I kicked myself for coming back to Ukraine, especially during big attacks, as my son and I sheltered from missiles. I thought I made a selfish decision because I was struggling abroad, and that it would’ve been better for my son if we’d stayed there.

But now I realize that each of us often makes selfish decisions. My husband also made the decision to join the military and leave me alone with our son. It was important to him, and I understand him and support his decision, but of course I’m sometimes also angry at him, like I was early on, when I was really struggling. I even told him that he abandoned us. But he couldn’t understand me, because he was on the front, in much tougher conditions. We even fought a bit about that.

The most difficult thing in the relationship

The most difficult thing for me right now is the lack of communication. Some of the intimacy is lost because we don’t get to talk to each other a lot. Sometimes we don't understand each other anymore. When we don’t talk for a while – and sometimes we don’t get to talk for a week at a time – I feel we’re growing more distant. We try to compensate for it somehow, to recover, but that’s very difficult. Because you think you’re talking to your husband, but you’re not really sure who the person on the other end of the phone is. I feel us both changing. He was just a boy when he went to war, and now he is a grown man, a warrior.

I don’t feel any awe or trepidation about him being my defender, the defender of my country. Those are very loud words. I’m grateful to him and I respect his decision, but I don’t think I have to be with him just because he’s a hero.

I’m with him because I love him and he loves me. We want to be together despite everything that’s going on. We will wait until we can be together. Perhaps the only thing that can help you survive all this is love – and having faith in your loved one.

We’ve already been through times when we’ve struggled with understanding each other; we wouldn’t talk for two or three weeks at a time. We’ve even discussed breaking up, because each of us understands how difficult all this is for the other person. But each time we realize that we don’t want to lose one another.

 

 

To live or to put your life on hold

In Denmark I stayed with a friend of mine whose husband is Iranian. His family fled to Denmark because of the war when he was eight. He is 45 now. He told me: “If you put your life on hold and wait for the war to end, you might never get to live.” He hasn’t been able to travel home in almost 40 years. You never know how long the war is going to last and what the future might hold. I decided not to wait and not to put my life off.

Over the past summer I did more for myself than ever before. I’m doing all these things now because tomorrow might never arrive. I think I’m living my life to its fullest now. [She starts crying] My husband says I’m making all his dreams come true on his behalf. He’s joking that I’m copying him, because it was him who wanted to play tennis and try wakeboarding.

Of course I observe my civil duty: I work, I donate, I fundraise and volunteer, but I’m also trying to spend every minute doing things that would bring me pleasure. For example, I always try to go for a walk when it’s sunny outside.

When I ask my husband whether he’s offended that I’m doing all these things for myself while he’s on the front, he says that that’s the reason why he joined the army.

We’ve only been able to all come together as a family once [since the beginning of the full-scale war]. Our son was able to spend five days with his dad. I never lied to him about anything related to the war. I always tell him that we’ve been attacked and that his dad is defending our country. He understands this and takes it well. He’s not offended that his dad isn’t with him. He always tells other children that his dad is in the army as soon as he meets them.

Fears

Being a yoga teacher really helps me in the moments when I’m overcome by panic and I get very scared. I know how to relax and how to meditate. When I feel particularly bad I stand on nails – then I can’t think about anything else but the pain. [She laughs]

Though of course I worry a lot about [my husband] because he often tells me about his friends being injured or killed. Death is always near. I’m trying to stay calm, but my body betrays me: I have stress-induced amenorrhea. A stress-induced menopause at age 31.

That’s why I’m trying to remember and make the most of every moment. I used to rush through the park but now I stop and look at the trees. When I send my husband photos or voice messages about my days he sends me photos of the 200s. [“Cargo 200” stands for military personnel killed in action - ed.] That’s how it is these days. I’m grateful for the strength of my mind. It protects me. I look at the photos he sends and I think: “This can’t be real.”

 

Emiliia Skrypnyk, 24

   

I live in Budapest. I came here to study, graduated from a university, and stayed for work. First I worked at a big plant; there were a lot of Ukrainians who came to work there to make money. That’s where I met my now-husband. At the time, though, we’d just exchanged phone numbers. We didn’t start talking right away. At most we’d send each other holiday greetings. He was in Hungary to make a bit of money he needed to run his own business and later returned to Ukraine.

He joined the military as a volunteer soldier as soon as the full-scale war started. He and his brothers-in-arms hardly had any gear during the battle for Kyiv. They were looking for boots. Yaroslav asked for my help, and I tried searching here, in Hungary. That’s how we started talking.

After that we were friendly, I thought we were supporting each other. I had a lot of respect for his decision to leave everything he had behind and join the defense of his country.

 

I would often travel to Ukraine for treatment. During one of my trips I decided to climb the Hoverla mountain, something that I’ve always dreamt about. I told him I’d be in Ukraine for two days and that I was going to climb the mountain. He said: “I’ll go with you.” His journey to the Carpathians was long and hard, which I didn’t know at the time.

He spent his entire four-day leave on the road. We only had a day together to ascend Hoverla. We left straight away, each back to their own city, but stayed in touch until his next leave. I remember him already joking that I’d be his wife.

After spending time together during his first leave I realized there was something between us, but I had to go back to Budapest and he was fighting in Donetsk Oblast. I had no idea what to do about it next. Being apart was unbearable.

A month later, he was sent abroad to study and I joined him. We realized we were ready to get married during his next leave. We waited another six months for it – without knowing when or where it would finally happen. We got married on 1 September 2023. We brought our documents and a note from his commander to the registry office, and we were immediately married.

 

 

Fears

I was really scared early on in our relationship: both because of what was happening in Ukraine – I was very worried; I volunteered a lot, and I’d forget to eat – and because of the relationship itself. It takes a lot of responsibility to commit to someone whose life is in danger every single day. I was so scared I deliberately kept my distance from my now-husband. I kept thinking whether I could handle being alone while he’s at war. I dwelled on the worst possible scenarios: how I’d cope if something happens to him or whether I’m strong and brave enough to look after him if I have to.

Those were heavy thoughts. I needed time to figure out whether I’d be able to accept that responsibility, whether I’d be able to handle the long separations and constant stress. We have no idea how long all this is going to last.

Lack of support

It’s an unusual situation. It’s very tough when you’re in love with someone and want to see them but you can’t, and you might not be able to for a very long time. My friend group has changed a lot. I’ve also changed a lot myself. I find it difficult to talk to other people, even my girlfriends. Not many people supported me, and lots asked why I needed this at all. People would always say I wasn’t thinking about myself or that it wasn’t serious. I shut them out.

I think people whose partners are fighting are often misunderstood. You exist in a state of suspension, always waiting for news, and it’s difficult to focus on work. During difficult operations, or heavy shelling, or when [my partner’s] brothers-in-arms are killed, I feel totally misunderstood when people say things like: “Don’t worry, it’ll be alright.”

That’s a tough test for a young couple. We have to build our life together, but we can’t, so we learn to communicate across distance. My husband’s mom is a great source of support for me, we’re always in touch. She consoles me when I get particularly scared.

Trying to be closer

We’rere working on getting me back to Ukraine. My husband will help me move during his next leave. We don’t know when that might be, but I already terminated my lease on my Budapest apartment and I told my work I’m going to quit. I’ve already sent my summer clothes to Ukraine. 

My husband’s preparing me for a long way ahead of us. When I tell him I’m struggling or sad, he gently reminds me we’re in for a long haul. We need to prepare that we might not see each other for a long time, though it would be great if somehow it happens sooner.

 

 

Putting life on hold

I’ve learnt to gradually accept that this is our life. My husband is doing everything he can for us to be near each other. I’m trying to do the same. Still, my life’s on hold. It’s like the world around me has stopped. I’ve gotten into trouble at work because I can’t focus, my mind is far away. It’s like I live in a different world. I don’t want to go anywhere. I see people go on beach holidays and post photos of themselves drinking cocktails. I can’t even imagine being able to do something like that.

My husband begs me to live my life, because we can’t know what the next day might bring. He tells me to go horse-riding, go on trips, or go for dinners out with my girlfriends. But I can’t. I’m always on my phone and always worried. I see a therapist to cope with this better, because it’s very difficult to keep going when no one around understands or supports you.

Communication

My husband and I have a very close relationship. It’s important for us to keep the communication going. We try to talk all the time: he texts me as soon as he has some free time and we call each other. Of course he keeps some things from me, but I’m a woman [she smiles] and my woman’s intuition sometimes tells me things, or I might see an Instagram post and figure out where he is and with whom.

I try to be understanding. For example, if he’s had a tough day, I don’t ask for his attention. I try to support him instead of burdening him with my own stuff. I think mutual support is so important. You have to try and understand the other person, without demanding something from them, accusing them, or dismissing them with a “Calm down, everything will be alright.” I think it’s important to show them you love them, rather than press on with your questions. I know there are things my husband won’t tell me about.

My husband taught me how to talk about things that offend me or miscommunications. We don’t just write “Hi, how are you, how was your day” to each other, but talk about what we’re feeling and what our mood is like. We really feel close to each other, even though we’ve had to learn to become close very quickly. I know that my husband trusts me and counts on me and my support. We always ask each other if there’s anything we can help each other with – even the asking itself helps. Also compliments, little nice things we tell each other, small gifts. For example, when I sent the guys from his unit power banks from my former colleagues, I enclosed a picture of us together, which he always brings with him now.

My husband is my biggest support now, despite the fact that he’s far away. I know I’m his too.

 

 

He didn’t have a shadow of a doubt that he would fight. He’d been involved in the war effort since 2014. He and his grandma, Ada Rohovtseva [a Ukrainian actress], and his mom, Kateryna Stepankova [a Ukrainian film director], used to go to the east all through those eight years. They often said that when the full-scale invasion started, he would join the military.

At first I didn’t doubt that that was the right thing to do. Frustration started to seep in later. It would have been a lot harder to let him go now.

He  just got into his car and drove away. I felt nothing. I didn’t cry – not for the first four weeks. Then it was like a levee broke. It’s harder and harder to let him go after each of his visits.

Fears

The hardest thing for me is that we’re living different lives and that when he comes back we will have nothing left in common. It was very important for me to know what was happening to him, where he was, what was happening in his unit, what they were doing, what they needed. We knew everything about military affairs, and that helped us keep going. But I started missing him more and more each time he was transferred to a different front.

I often think: this is my youth, I’m only 24, why is our youth passing by like this? I regret that I can’t have a child under normal circumstances, that I have to keep waiting for something to happen. I really want a kid. I never thought that maternal instinct could just switch on like that – like nothing else matters.

I shut everyone out when I’m afraid. Maybe this is what saves me. For the longest time I didn’t talk to anyone at all. But the scariest thing for me… [She starts crying] Funerals are the worst, because you can’t fight your imagination, and you absolutely hate yourself for it. That’s the hardest thing for me. My imagination is my biggest enemy right now.

I’ve also become very superstitious ever since the full-scale war started. Once, when Oleksii left, he left his chair in the middle of the room. I was afraid to move it because it was his. Sometimes I find a half-smoked cigarette in the pocket when I wear his jacket – I never throw it away because it’s his. [She laughs] I can’t delete a single picture with him from my phone. I don’t know if it’s an actual superstition, but I leave everything that belongs to him as it is.

I’m also really worried that the war might enter a phase again when it seems like nothing is happening, but is still a huge part of the lives of military personnel and their families.

Sometimes I think about the fact that when the war is over, Oleksii will have to go back somewhere. I want him to go back to his profession, to be a cameraman again. I love him with a camera. He’s got so much footage from the past two years.

Being stuck between the military and civilian realms

Oleksii responds calmly to everything that’s happening in civilian life. It was summer the first time he traveled to Kyiv from Bakhmut after being away for a long time, people were enjoying themselves. I was really worried about how he’d take it. But he said that was good, that’s how normal life should be. What’s not normal is what he would see on the front every day. This position makes things easier for him, though it’s still difficult to toggle between the two worlds.

It takes him about a month to adjust. When he only comes here for a short while, I can feel his inner world shift. A week before he has to leave his mind is already there. His responses to everything change, he sees everything differently. Two or three days before his departure I also start feeling upset and annoyed, I can feel him switch off. It’s like those two days we could still be together don’t really exist.

Another challenge is that when Oleksii is here it’s as if the life around me stops. I tell everyone: “Stop,” and I spend time with him. But I can’t live like that forever, because I come across as fickle and unreliable, and can let someone down. And besides, I have to somehow resume my life once he leaves. I can’t start anew each time.

 

 

Fleeting meetings

Oleksii’s unit didn’t have any time off for nine months, and I knew I couldn’t go that long without seeing him. Yuliia Bartli – a volunteer who has been traveling to the east every week for the past almost 10 years – and I get together whatever the boys might need and take it to them. She takes me with her about once a month, even if reluctantly. [She laughs] I go so I can see him for an hour or two, though sometimes it’s no more than 15 minutes, the time it takes them to unload the car. But I need it.

I often joke that we’ve had our honeymoon trip across all of Ukraine: we had a coffee in Sloviansk and celebrated his birthday in Druzhkivka. My visit after Da Vinci’s death was tough. [Dmytro ‘Da Vinci’ Kotsiubailo was - ed.] Dmytro was very close with Oleksii’s family, it was a huge loss for them. Losha was overwhelmed, but he wasn’t given any time off, so I decided to visit him. He was in Sloviansk at the time. The situation on the front was extremely difficult and it was very important for me to see Oleksii for at least an hour.

Sometimes I’m told I shouldn’t go. People say I should put him before myself, think about how difficult it must be for him. But I think the meetings are also important for him. Though it’s true that not everyone in his unit gets those visits. The boundary between right and wrong is very thin.

Sources of support

I experienced all this in several distinct phases. First I started volunteering with my colleagues at the Suziria [Constellation] theater – the military were camping there, there was lots to do. Then everyone left and there was nothing left to do. We didn’t know what to do with ourselves: we didn’t want to go back to our theater work, all the theaters were closed. I started practicing dance again, which helped me find myself again. That made it easier. On the front, Oleksii would make bottlestops from anything he would get his hands on and send me pictures of them – in return I’d send him video clips of myself dancing. That’s how we kept going.

Oleksii and I have two identical pairs of rosaries. We bought them when we got married, instead of wedding rings. We both carry them with us all the time. Each time I visit him or send him something I print a small picture of the two of us together for him to take along with him.

Kids are the biggest source of support for me. I try to spend time with Oleksii’s son Kostia: he misses his dad a lot. I teach choreography at a school. Kids have a different kind of energy, it’s easier around kids.

Kostia is very angry with his dad. He’s five, and he can’t fully understand why Oleksii is away for nine months at a time and then only has 15 days to spend with him before leaving again. Kostia insists that he will also go to war. He’s afraid of letting Oleksii go. Even if Oleksii just needs to leave the house, Kostia tries to hold on to him. Of course they speak on the phone, but Kostia doesn’t understand why it has to be on the phone. He resents it.

People whose partners are in the military: what to know

The most important thing for those whose loved ones are on the front is to feel that they exist as part of the society, to participate in it. They need to be seen and understood: other people should think what it’s like to be in this position. Everyone in our society is very different: some people are fighting, others aren’t; some people have someone who’s fighting on the front, others don’t; some people might have their loved one in Russian captivity; some people might be waiting on the body of their loved one to be retrieved to be able to say goodbye to them, or they might be waiting on a confirmation that they are alive. We all have different experiences, but we all have to live together somehow, without having to downplay our pain. We have to be aware of the situation as a whole and to appreciate every moment of our lives.