I catch myself smiling through tears as well. I reassure myself that everything is fine, as it should be. And our conversation continues for another half hour...

This is my second interview with a woman whose life story closely intertwines with a city that no longer exists. The first interview was with Lyudmila Pasha from Mariupol (link to the interview). It became the beginning of a whole project that we are carrying out with the Ukrainian online publication "Yedyna" to tell the story of contemporary Ukraine through the personal stories of Ukrainian women. Lyudmila has volunteered at the "DobroTUT" charitable foundation in Dnipro for over a year. Supporting women who have left their homes due to the war is the foundation's main mission. And it's Lyudmila's life's work. "I have enough stories here for an entire series daily," she said back then. And we decided to share some of them with the world at least. And now we are very grateful that Nina Nidens has shared hers with us.

Her story is so poignant and genuine that it touches the deepest strings of the soul. Especially when you realize that her warm, beloved hometown, now called "Fortress Bakhmut," is a deep wound in the body of Ukraine, and now it is disappearing from the face of the earth. It is challenging for all of us to accept and experience. Not to mention those for whom this city was their native home.

So...

"My name is Nina. I'm from Bakhmut," began the young, smiling woman. "I am a pharmacist by profession. I had planned to work until maternity leave, but I had to close down earlier. Now I am on maternity leave in Dnipro. Another member of our family was born here - my son Nikita."

How was life in Bakhmut since the start of the full-scale war?

The house where we lived was on the outskirts of the city. It became uneasy there right away. We hoped that it wouldn't last long. But we decided to evacuate our daughter at least when the explosions started right next to our house. We sent her on an evacuation bus with her grandmother to Dnipro. We had friends there who helped us find accommodation.

As for me, I decided to stay with my husband. He is a firefighter and had to remain on duty. Only two apartments out of 16 in our building were occupied at that time. The rest of the residents had left. But after we sent our daughter away, my husband took me to another district, to my mother's apartment. He thought it would be safer there. But in our small town, there was nowhere that was genuinely safe.

My husband worked day and night shifts. I didn't want to stay alone at home during the night with hopes for safety. So we decided that I should live at my husband's workplace - at the fire station.

So, you lived in such conditions at the fire station?

Yes. I was fine there. Even though we slept on an uncomfortable couch for a month, we were together. We hadn't been together for so long in all those years.

What stands out the most about that period of life in Bakhmut?

I remember well the casserole I managed to cook before the gas supply disappeared at home. Just as we sent our child to Dnipro, they started cutting off the gas supply in the city. Everyone was saying that it would soon be gone entirely. I come home, and it's still there. I shout to my husband, "LET'S MAKE A CASSEROLE, WE HAVE GAS." We just finished baking it, and the gas was shut off. Then we had no water or electricity. Although at the fire station, we had everything: there was a generator there. So, being at my husband's workplace was better.

When did you decide that you needed to leave?

We held on until the end as long as we had the opportunity to monitor the unborn child's condition. But later, such an opportunity no longer existed. In Bakhmut, only one gynecologist was left, and no ultrasound rooms or laboratories were functioning where we could get tests done to ensure everything was fine with the baby. Before the war, we planned to give birth in Kramatorsk, but the maternity ward there was bombed.

Of course, we had military medics who assured us that they would help in any situation. And we were prepared to give birth in such conditions. We were ready for anything to avoid going far away.

Ukrainian soldiers entered our house on the first night I stayed at the fire station. They were told that the place was vacant. However, we and our neighbor were still there. Having soldiers in the house posed more significant risks. We talked to them, and explained that people still lived there. And when we came to collect our belongings before leaving for Dnipro, the soldiers were no longer there. However, the situation in the city was deteriorating every day.

So, you decided to leave because you were worried about your son?

Yes. My husband was finally permitted to drive me out. We thought he would return in a few days. But when we were in Dnipro, everything started in Bakhmut... Then my husband was allowed to stay there. He is currently working in Dnipro.

How did you manage to leave?

We left without trouble because we didn't leave during the peak of turmoil. We were probably among those who didn't want to leave their hometown. Even when we went to Dnipro, we thought it would be temporary that I would return in a few months.

We couldn't believe that it would all end like this. Now, you could say that the city no longer exists.

When did you find out that there was nowhere to return to?

We saw that part of our house was still standing in early spring. But in the latest photos, you could only see the courtyard - everything else burned, and there was no livable place.

And you know what hurts the most? (smiles)

We never went on a tour of the champagne wine factory, even though it was right across the road from our house. We kept putting it off. Then we saw how they (the invaders) were walking around our factory, and we realized that we would never be able to revisit it. We had planned to go so many times, I always think about it...

And now I've realized there's no need to postpone anything for later.

Is that the famous Artemivsk champagne wine factory?

Yes, Bakhmut used to be called Artemivsk. And we had the famous champagne produced here. Now the factory has relocated to Odessa. It doesn't exist in our city anymore.

How is life in Dnipro for you?

You know, at first, it didn't feel like our city. We thought about going somewhere else. My husband's contract ended, so we thought we should try living elsewhere. We considered Kyiv. But then everything somehow started to fall into place. Finally, my husband's schedule changed because, previously, he didn't have any days off. And now he spends more time with us. And we have "DobroTUT" (GoodHere), which rescued our family from everything it could. These people... they are like a second family. The dedication there is incredible... They support us in every way possible. We have our Lyudmila there. She escaped from Mariupol and understood us like no one else. She's like a second mother - she loves everyone. She loves our children. But everyone there at the foundation is like that. It's very supportive. Since our son turned three months old, we have gone to all the events: theaters, movies - everywhere!

Recently, we were awarded the "New Dniprovian" diploma. It was part of an initiative organized by DobroTUT. They issued these unique certificates to everyone born in Dnipro after February 24. We are a pretty diverse family. My father was born in Artemivsk, the child was born in Bakhmut, and I, by some miracle, was born in a maternity hospital in Donetsk, and the child is a true Dnipro native!

You mentioned that, essentially, it was your son who compelled you to leave. Are you satisfied with his choice?

Yes. I gave birth in a maternity hospital that was undergoing renovations. Half of the entrances were closed, creating a confined space. But they are so unique; they constantly improve things. The rooms are comfortable. Everything is beautiful. In short, if you compare it to us, it's perfect.

So, your son chose a comfortable place of birth himself?

He chose everything beautiful: the room, the date, the time. He was born on August 22, 2022, at 22:44.

In Dnipro, there are also shelling incidents. How do you cope with it all?

When I'm with the children, I try to keep myself composed. But if they're not around, then it's like, hide! (laughs). There was a moment when I cried all day. It was still in Bakhmut.

But in the presence of my daughter, I never panicked. Even when there were explosions, and the house was shaking.

How does she react to all of this?

Even when she's home alone, we've taught her to take her phone, a blanket, toys, and anything she wants and go to the bathroom. She doesn't have that, you know, panic; she has a clear algorithm of what to do. So, everything is more or less fine.

You mentioned the importance of the "DobroTUT" foundation to you. How did you get involved with them?

The first time we went to the Philharmonic. I accidentally saw an Instagram registration for the event. We registered, and I went... There were many people, and it was unclear what was happening. I saw a box where you could put gratitude cards. I didn't know they were for Dniprovians to express their gratitude at that time. I just wrote about how much I liked everything. When I was writing, Elena (she also works at "DobroTUT") came up to me and said they were looking for moms to paint a picture for their office. It was the first shock in six months of living in the city. I'm a young mother - always in an enclosed space, on maternity leave, in a foreign city. But I agreed. What also surprised me was that I had to come alone, without the child. Because the event was organized specifically to allow moms to relax, I promised to come.

Seven moms gathered to paint one picture on three canvases at the event. It seemed like madness to me. But it turned out so beautiful... Our painting is now hanging in their office. I continue to communicate with these girls. Then we were invited to simply paint. We also got to know another girl, with whom we are now friends - we go everywhere together.

Lyudmila called you the ambassador of "DobroTUT"...

I just love them very much and try to support them actively. The foundation doesn't need anything from us except for us to support them on social media. More people need to learn about their activities and be able to get involved. I do everything I can. I like, comment, and share. PR specialists are the ones with a large audience... Mine is small, but I do what I can.

What brings you the most joy?

I love attending events organized by the foundation and receiving all that love! Wherever they invite us, we will come. I've realized that we shouldn't postpone anything for later. We should live here and now. So, if it's painting, I'll come, of course! Theater? I'll come. Any event? I'll be there. It truly brings me great joy to see the support we all receive.

I mentioned that we had considered moving to Kyiv. We had a feeling that things weren't working out in Dnipro. We had troubles with apartment owners and other problems. But now, when such thoughts arise, I immediately ask myself: "What about 'DobroTUT,' and what about 'DobroTUT' without us?"

I'm truly fortunate to have kind-hearted people around me. I communicate with many of them as if we've known each other our whole lives!

Do you plan to return to Bakhmut if the opportunity arises? Will you rebuild?

Until the bombings intensified, we hoped we wouldn't leave Bakhmut, but now there's nothing there for everyday life. No electricity, no water - it's not even a city anymore! Essentially, it needs to be demolished and rebuilt from scratch. That will take decades. Of course, we would like to believe that anything is possible, but we have small children and must be realistic. When we saw how they liberated Kherson, how people ran out of basements with flags and joyfully welcomed the soldiers. Haters say it won't be the same in Bakhmut. But at the moment, hardly anyone is left there. But I'm confident that as soon as the city is freed, the line for Bakhmut will be longer than anywhere else. Everyone will come!

With flags?

With flags!

It seems like you haven't been able to let go completely.

You don't want to look, but you still search for local chats and browse through them. You long to see what is no longer there. It wasn't easy at the beginning. That feeling... You know, we only saw all these ruins in videos and photos. Your brain doesn't fully comprehend that it's all real and not some movie.

What is your biggest dream?

I would like to say return home, but that's impossible. I just want to be left alone, for our children to go to school safely, for us to walk around peacefully and meet with friends. I long for victory and peace. An ordinary, peaceful life.