I'm learning how to live with the reality of war and the beauty of motherhood

This First Person article is the experience of Kateryna Kobylianska, an artist from Kyiv, Ukraine, who now lives in Montreal. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.

It was a warm autumn day in Kyiv when my documents to move to Canada finally came. Just a few days later, I found out that a tiny human was starting to form in my womb. In December 2021, my husband and I embarked to Montreal.

Starting over in a new country while pregnant was a big change and an exciting challenge. But two months later, everything was different.

On Feb. 24, I woke up to messages from my family members — thousands of kilometres away in Ukraine — saying that Russia had started a full-scale invasion. Bombs and rockets had been falling all over the country. I imagined that if we were still in Kyiv, I might have given birth in a subway station bomb shelter.

I tried to find ways to help — sending items from Canada to Ukraine, helping journalists, co-ordinating displaced persons, selling my artwork to donate more money. But it never seemed enough. Reading the news and worrying for my family and friends, along with my whole country, took me away from the joy over the life growing in me.

Each day, my husband would remind me to focus on our daughter. But it was impossible to take my mind and heart away from the news. Even though I was physically far from Ukraine, the pain and rage were extremely present. I would swim in a peaceful pool in Montreal while kids and parents were enjoying the water around me, but tears would fall down my cheeks knowing that my beloved nation was being ravaged.

I felt guilty for not being happy while carrying my daughter. I was absent for her to be present for Ukraine. How happy could I be, seeing the tragedies in Bucha, Irpin, Mariupol and other Ukrainian cities?

But I knew I couldn't be absent forever. Would my daughter even want to come into this world, feeling her mother's state from the inside? My motherland has deep roots inside me, but my connection to my child is even more profound. So I consciously disconnected myself from the news to remain sane for my daughter.

I know life is full of juxtapositions, but I'd never felt being split between two worlds like this before. A pure newborn was coming through me while death engulfed my country. I was served heaven and hell on one plate.

Today, I'm still getting updates from my family who are risking their lives each day. I could not become apathetic to the violence caused to my country, even if I want to dissolve into motherhood.

We welcomed Jasmine into the world in June 2022. I don't know if people who were never parents can understand how a child changes your life, just like I don't think those who haven't seen their country at war can relate to those who go through it.

Surprisingly, witnessing both birth and war has something in common. A person surviving an invasion can't build plans for the future, and neither can a mother. What is important is how you will save your day here and now. Additionally, no one likes mothers talking too much about their kids, the same as nobody wants to hear about our war.

Now, I must figure out how I will present this world to my baby, where kids like her are forced to witness the horrors of war, where Ukrainian warriors are beheaded alive. I don't want my child to grow up in such a reality, though it seems it's the only one. I want to ensure she'd never want to do the same to another human.

I want to show my fellow Ukrainians to Jasmine as an inspiration, a brave nation where each individual holds on no matter what happens. It's unbelievable how they keep finding joy together while doing everything possible to keep Ukraine a free and democratic nation.