“None of us knows what the future holds”: The story of the mother amid the war

A person wearing a black jacket and rollerblades stands on a dirt path in a park with leafless trees and patches of grass, as if untouched by the war that has reshaped the world beyond these quiet borders.
Last updated on: 13 January 2026

“People with HIV don’t live long. You should end the pregnancy.”

That was the advice Martha (name changed for safety) received from a nurse in 1998, when she discovered she was HIV-positive while expecting her first child. “I chose to continue the pregnancy, because none of us knows what the future holds,” she recalls.

Martha learned about her diagnosis at a particularly difficult time. During the 1990s, HIV cases rose sharply in Ukraine, and by 2005 it had the highest infection rate in Europe. Economic hardship, stigma, poor prevention, and lack of treatment made the epidemic especially hard to contain. Later, education campaigns, government initiatives, and activist efforts helped improve the situation. But the full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022 has severely set back progress.

“We don’t put HIV-infected people on the phone.”

“When my husband first learned of his HIV diagnosis, he blamed me and even said he might harm himself. I was tested — the result was negative — so we tried to carry on with life. Six months later, while I was pregnant, I received my own diagnosis. The doctors advised me to end the pregnancy, but I chose to continue. My son was born healthy. During pregnancy I got no information at all about how to prevent transmission to my child. But in the Labour and Delivery unit I was lucky to meet a midwife who told me not to breastfeed, because that helped protect him.”

Martha recalls that both at the hospital and later with the police, after her husband was killed, their HIV status was disclosed to relatives and members of her church without her consent. “Later I had a daughter. One day she was badly burned, and we rushed her to the hospital. My father called to ask how she was, and when he asked to speak to me, the nurse replied, ‘We don’t put HIV‑infected people on the phone.’ My father had no idea what was happening. At that time, I avoided telling anyone about the illness, I simply did not know how others might react.”

“When they found out about my status, I did not get support from anyone. Some relatives turned away. Even in the church I faced judgement at first. One woman became very angry with me and criticised me for keeping silent. After that, I no longer felt welcome at that church. A few years later however, I saw her again. She told me her son and his wife had adopted two children living with HIV. That experience had changed her attitude to HIV and people living with this completely. Then I explained to her: “I would never harm anyone. Even drinking from a cup in church cannot transmit HIV. Back then, there was so much misinformation and fear.”

“The war affected my treatment”

Today, Martha is the mother of seven and grandmother of three.The full-scale Russian invasion into Ukraine has reshaped her family’s life. “My eldest son, 26, serves in the army. My daughter, 25, fled to Poland with her two children because of the war. Another son, 23, left the army and is raising his child alone while working in security. At home, I care for my 16-year-old son and three younger daughters, aged 14, 13, and 12.”

“In 2022, when the full-scale war in Ukraine had started, my son, who was serving in the army, told us we had to leave our home. My granddaughter was still very young, and I had four other children in my care. It was too dangerous for them to stay in the region so close to the frontline. We first moved west to the Khmelnytskyi region, and later to Zaporizhzhia. Before long, Zaporizhzhia also came under heavy shelling, while Sloviansk grew calmer, and we returned home. We also decided to go back as it was difficult for the kids to adapt to the new places and make new friends.”

“The war also affected my treatment. Normally, I had to undergo tests and collect my medication every three months. With the war, regular monitoring was no longer possible. I was not able to check how HIV was impacting my health or whether the medicine was still effective. But I was allowed to receive six months’ worth of medication at once. That made a huge difference, especially during evacuation, because it ensured my treatment could continue without interruption.”

“I finally could speak freely”

Martha first heard about the organisation Nasha Dopomoga (“Our Help”) after her first husband passed away. “They supported me with my children. I could leave the youngest at their nursery while I worked. It was also there that I met my new partner.”

After the beginning of the Russian full‑scale invasion, the organisation once again stepped in. “They gave me food and clothes, and they also helped financially to repair the water in my house. I received blankets and syringes for my antibiotic shots when I developed pneumonia. But the greatest gift was something deeper: understanding.”
Martha joined one of the women’s support groups, where she met other women living with HIV. Together they took part in joint activities, and she also received psychological support. “I felt a strong need to share my feelings, and for the first time I could speak openly among people who truly listened. They created a space where I no longer felt alone.”

“I dream of finally having my family together again.”

Now Martha is trying to carry on with life as usual. Like the majority of Ukrainians, she has become accustomed to the shelling and is trying to find solace in her work, her kids and daily routines.

“Of course I want it all to end as soon as possible. I want to see my daughter again, who now lives in Poland. And my son is serving at the front. I just hope he comes back alive. We hardly speak. He doesn’t have time and the connection is poor. It’s very difficult.

I dream of finally having my family together again. I dream of us sitting around one table, celebrating the winter holidays the way we used to.”

Emergency support fund for Ukraine and CEECA region

The Central and Eastern Europe and Central Asia (CEECA) region is the only region in the world where both new HIV infections and AIDS-related deaths are rising, with an estimated 2.1 million people living with HIV – of which half do not have access to life-saving treatment (source: UNAIDS). The war in Ukraine has worsened the HIV crisis in the country and the wider region. In response, Aidsfonds, with partners ECOM and APH and support from Gilead, set up the Emergency Support Fund for Ukraine and the CEECA region. The fund helps community-led organisations like Nasha Dopomoga continue providing vital HIV services to people living with or vulnerable to HIV despite the war, for example in Sloviansk, which has endured ongoing shelling since the start of the conflict and severe disruptions to HIV care. Read more here.

 

Written by: Nataliia Bushkovska
Photo credits: Anna Klochko