I’m Nadiia. My daughter and I were injured when a State Emergency Service helicopter crashed into a kindergarten in Brovary. I got burns to my face and leg, while my daughter got burns on her arm, face, and legs.
I was walking my daughter to kindergarten on January 18, 2023. Suddenly, we heard the sound of a helicopter. I instantly looked at my phone to check for an air raid alert, but there wasn’t. I thought, “It’s probably one of ours, everything’s okay.” I told my daughter, “Let’s stop and look, maybe we’ll see it.” The fog was really thick, but we still hoped to see it. Then, the helicopter appeared above the school.
My daughter told me six months later that I told her to duck down. I don’t remember that. What I do remember is watching the helicopter and seeing the moment it hit the kindergarten. Then there was a fire. We fell and were covered by these fire flames. I covered my daughter with my body. Somehow, we got up. I don’t even know how. The next thing I remember is running with her behind the corner of the kindergarten.
I pulled off the scarf and hat that had started to melt. I looked at her legs where her coat and boots had burned away, everything was red. I understood why later. Her tights had melted and fused into her skin. Then I realized I was burning too. I checked her first. Then I saw the flames between my legs. I put them out. I had leather gloves on, that’s what saved my hands.
My husband was calling me at that moment. I told him we were alive and that he should get our son and come to us. That’s what he told me later. My daughter was crying, and I understood we couldn’t wait another second. I picked her up and ran out of the kindergarten. Everyone around us was rushing to help and rescue others. Two men were running toward us. I asked if they had a car. They did and took us to the hospital. I didn’t want to wait for an ambulance. I just wanted my daughter to get help as fast as possible. Looking back now, with the burns I had… I honestly don’t know how I managed to move at all, carry her and run.
At the hospital, they cut away what was left of our clothes. My daughter had a bit more left on her body, I had almost nothing. They took us to intensive care. We shared a room with separate beds, but together. We were the first ones to arrive. While they prepped us, inserted IVs, got us ready for anesthesia, I stayed conscious and did everything I could to calm her down. I kept whispering that everything would be okay. That she shouldn’t be afraid, they would give her medicine and she wouldn’t feel pain. The doctors would help her and daddy would come soon and be with her. That’s what happened. My husband came and was with her. My parents took our son to their place, and he stayed with them the whole time.
I woke up in Kyiv. Later, we were transferred to Lviv, and then to Austria. It was for skin graft surgeries. I had one major graft. They took a large piece of skin and transplanted it. My daughter had several smaller grafts. She went through more surgeries than I did. The treatment was difficult, but thank God, her body accepted the grafts better. After my first graft, 90% of the transplanted skin didn’t survive. So the doctors decided to do another one. They took more skin from me and did another graft. Thank God, nothing was left on my daughter’s face. The burns there weren’t deep. That was only because I had covered her. Her hands couldn’t be saved. She had regular gloves, and they melted. We always told her, over and over: “Dad and I will do everything we can to make sure you’re beautiful and that everything will be okay.”
The moment I began to accept that I was changing came the same day I woke up from anesthesia in Kyiv.
I opened my eyes and realized, I would never be the same. My face was extremely swollen, I had burns, and my legs were wrapped up. I didn’t know exactly what was under the bandages, but I understood that if they were wrapped, something was wrong. I knew I would never look the way I used to, but I also knew that my inner core, my strength, were still there and that made me even stronger.
I worked with a psychologist. Yes, I’m strong, but no matter how strong a person is, they can’t always handle everything on their own. The first time we went outside was in Austria. I didn’t worry there because none knew me.
But coming back to Ukraine… that was different. At first, I tried to hide. I dressed in a tracksuit, pulled my hood tight, put on a cap. Even the first times we went to the store where all the cashiers know me (I’d been going there almost daily since my daughter was born), we picked up what we needed, and were going to pay. I remember, I was still wearing my COVID mask and sunglasses, trying to hide and thinking they wouldn’t recognize me. My daughter and husband were right there with me, without masks. How naive I was. Of course, they recognized me. Do you know what they said? They were just glad we were alive and come back. That we are okay, maybe not the same, with scars, with consequences, but alive. This moment helped me stop hiding anymore.
It was hard with my son, because the last time he had seen me was that morning, when I took my daughter to kindergarten. After that, he didn’t understand what was going on. He was only four years old. He didn’t know where his mom was, where his dad and sister were. Why he was staying with his grandma. Why he couldn’t be at home. The first time he saw me was after they took the mask off my face. It was hard for him. He didn’t recognize me, he couldn’t really understand what had happened.
How could he have understood at his age? When he found out that I was coming home, he was so happy. (That’s why I started crying, because I remembered our first meeting). It was hard for me to walk. I had to drag my leg behind me, but somehow, I ran to him. I just ran and held him and wouldn’t let go. He had a lot of questions. So we explained everything to him that same day. We showed him my scars and his sister’s. After that, there were no more questions.
Only once, about a year ago, he asked, “Mom, when will you be like you were before?” I asked, “What do you mean?” And he said, “You were pretty before.” I said, “What about now? Am I not pretty?” He replied, “You’re pretty now too… but back then, you were even prettier.” We talked about it. We worked through it together.
My daughter had been doing karate for about three years before the injury. After her recovery, she went back to it for about six months, but the excitement just wasn’t there anymore. So I suggested she try ballroom dancing but the sport version. We found a studio, and now she absolutely loves it. She runs to class with excitement and really enjoys herself. She’s already competing in tournaments, working hard, and has even moved up in category levels. The only thing she doesn’t like it’s waking up at 5 a.m. to get her hair done!
It happened that on the day of the tragedy, the children from our group were hurt the most. When Alice returned to kindergarten — it was right before graduation rehearsals. She really wanted to be there, which was important to me too. We took her to practice the waltz. The first time she walked back into the group, everyone ran to her, happy to see she was alive and back. Later, we had a photoshoot for the graduation album. The parents and teachers also reacted normally then. The more challenging moments were when she started school. They ask her: “What’s wrong with your hand? Why do you wear a glove?” She had a special glove for treating scars. “Why do you wear it, what’s wrong with your hands?” But we had prepared her for these questions.
We talked with her, talked a lot about how she could respond to people. Not being rude but still give an answer. She had her own ways. Sometimes she’d say, “I’ll tell you tomorrow,” and by then, the questions would be forgotten. She feels great and isn’t ashamed of her scars.
It was tough for me in everyday life, because I couldn’t squat or bend properly.
Cooking was also difficult since you have to be up and down, moving around the kitchen. It was uncomfortable, but my husband helped a lot. I really felt the support of my loved ones. This whole situation truly showed me who is really close to me, and who’s not.
I remember that day, or rather, the evening when I opened the page of Neopalimy. My husband wasn’t home yet, and the kids were asleep. I was scrolling through the stories, seeing how they help people. Suddenly, I felt such strong emotions. I started crying, probably tears of joy, realizing that not all is lost for me and my daughter and that we could still look better. Right then, while I was crying so hard, my husband came home. He didn’t understand what was going on. I was all in tears and showed him the page. He calmed me down. Probably on the second or third day, we submitted our application to Neopalimy.
I had some expectations, but the result exceeded them. I hoped, at the very least, to minimize the scars, but what I see now, and I know it’s not the end yet. My daughter and I will have more procedures. The result is simply amazing for now.
When you have two kids, you immediately get back into daily routine, because it’s a constant cycle — school, kindergarten, after-school activities. You really have no choice but to get involved, and there’s no one else to share the responsibility with. My husband works during the week and helps when he’s off, but life’s pace has returned to the usual track maybe even a little faster because the kids are growing, and I’m moving forward as well.
I’m trying to grow and develop. I decided to try learning how to shoot videos and take photos for myself. I never really got around to filming or taking good pictures. I just didn’t see how to do it, it didn’t work out. So, I decided to take a course. I kept myself busy, and it became my little comfort, my learning process. Then, like I said, things started rolling, and now I’m slowly working on it.
It’s quite common for people to ask themselves, “Why me? Why is this happening? I can’t bear it.” But for me, the question was, “Why is this happening for me?” If we survived such a tragedy, it means there’s still have something to do here. We have a destination and that’s why we have to live. This was my understanding that life is only one, and thank God, it continues.
You know, I realized that if I don’t do it, then who will? Who will take care of me if not me? Who will take care of my daughter if not my husband and me?
More than two years after the accident, I honestly came to the conclusion that I don’t care how people look at me or what they think about my appearance and my scars. I’ll tell you more — this year I even bought myself a pair of shorts, and I plan to wear them at least once, because I always hid my legs.
It’s really important how people react. First of all, this is something that needs to be talked about, not kept quiet. These conversations should happen with kids at school, maybe even in kindergarten, depending on the children’s age. At school for sure, because not all kids, and probably not all adults, are ready to see someone with injuries or veterans with amputations.
There are cases when a child is hidden from this, their eyes are covered, they’re turned away. This shouldn’t be done! If you talk to your kids about this at home, then they won’t react so strongly when they see it in real life.
I talked to my own children about this. Probably because we have our own example, with our scars. I also explained that there are people with amputations, different situations, and that they are just normal people like us.
The key thing is not to stare or ask too many questions because you never know how ready someone is to deal with that emotionally.
Translator Yuliia Melnyk
