Kyiv, August 28, 2025

Dear readers,

I have been in Kyiv with my 18-month-old son for almost five weeks. Before leaving, as with every trip to Ukraine, I wrestled with endless hesitation, a total, overwhelming fear, the worry that I might not be making the right decision, the urge not to go after all, not to bring my child to the war. Once I was there, I found my calm after a week.

Last night, Zakary and I slept at my father's place. There was a major attack. Early in the evening, his wife went down to the nearest metro station, because she was very worried about the number of drones reported. My father and I thought the situation seemed rather calm, so we stayed in the apartment. We went to bed, but I was woken by an explosion at 3 am. The next minute, Zakary and I were outside, heading for the metro to take shelter. It was chaos. Ballistic missiles were falling without warning. There were not very many of us in the station, maybe 50 people. The attack killed at least 13 people in Kyiv [the death toll has continued to rise since].

It was the second time I sought shelter in the metro. The first was the night of August 20 to 21, but on that occasion, we were much better prepared. I had a tent that sets up in seconds, a heated pad and a self-inflating mattress I bought when I arrived. My mother and I had seen on Telegram that more than 50 drones were heading for Kyiv and that Russian planes had taken off from the Engels-2 airbase.

Laden like a pack mule, I took the stroller with my son, who was sleeping, and we headed down to the station near my mother's apartment. It was the first time in three and a half years of war that she had taken shelter there. The night was tough, because Zakary was awake from 1 am to 4 am. He ran all over the place and spoke loudly in the middle of all the people lying down, and I had to follow him everywhere. Other than that, it was quite calm. There were 200 to 300 people that night, everyone was sleeping. Now I understand why there are so few young children in the metro! And I also understand why Sasha doesn't go there, and I will no longer advise her to take shelter there at every alert. Then, around 5:30 or 6 am, with the first metro trains, we saw people going to work as if nothing had happened. My compatriots' resilience is unwavering. It's strange, but I'm almost grateful to have experienced these attacks. Now I know exactly what my loved ones go through, how hard it is.

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