In the cramped shelter, where nearly one hundred people were staying at the same time – pregnant women, mothers who had just given birth, newborn babies, medical personnel, and residents of nearby buildings – it was cold, damp, and dark. There were no ordinary hospital wards, no lamps above delivery chairs, no sterile silence. Only concrete walls, the roar of artillery, and people trying to preserve a sense of normality in the middle of war.

It was there that Vira Tselyk, senior obstetrician at the Chernihiv Maternity Hospital, helped deliver babies during the first days of the full-scale invasion of Ukraine.

The door to the improvised delivery room didn’t close. The husband of the woman in labor held it shut with his shoulder, trying to protect his wife at least somewhat from strangers’ eyes. Baby blankets were warmed against people’s own bodies – there was no heat in the bomb shelter. Flashlights were used sparingly. Everyone understood: the child had to be born right now, despite the fear and the war.

People Who Hold Life Together

In recent years, we have become used to speaking about heroism – of soldiers, rescuers, healthcare professionals, Ukrainians in general. But behind this word stand the stories of ordinary people who found themselves in inhuman circumstances and continued to do their work.

The story of Vira Tselyk is exactly about it. About a profession that, during the war, regained its true weight in the eyes of Ukrainians.

At the moment when the familiar world was collapsing, healthcare ceased to be just a system. It became a pillar of society.

On February 24, 2022, Vira Tselyk was awakened by a call from a colleague. The voice sounded confused and frightened: the war had begun. At first, she did not believe it. She opened the balcony door and listened to the sounds of the city. And then she heard it – the siren… Loud, unfamiliar, impossible to confuse with anything else.

That morning, she did not evacuate. She went to work instead.

“I am a senior obstetrician. Not going to work wasn’t an option. Someone had to organize the work,” explains Mrs. Tselyk.

Her family evacuated to a village near Chernihiv, which later came under occupation. Communication was lost. Vira did not know whether her loved ones were alive. But she stayed at the maternity hospital.

And this is an important part of Ukrainian medical reality that is rarely spoken about aloud: most medical workers during the war save others while simultaneously going through their own personal catastrophe.

For Vira Tselyk, work became a way not to break under the anxiety for her mother and child.

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How the Maternity Hospital Became a Small Model of the Country

The first days in the shelter were chaotic. No one was prepared for the fact that they would have to live there for 42 days.

Medical workers carried beds, searched for wooden boards to build platforms, and arranged spaces for women with newborns. There was a shortage of water. No electricity and heating. The only generator kept the neonatal intensive care unit running.

The shelter had not been designed for people to stay there long-term, so the medical staff was essentially creating everyday living conditions from scratch. Vira Tselyk carried blankets, washed the floors, organized the work of the team, and at the same time supported the people around her.

“If a person is terribly frightened, they cannot work. First, you have to restore their sense of stability.”

At that time, no one was yet speaking about crisis psychology or support algorithms during war. Ukrainian healthcare professionals were learning all of this in real time – intuitively, holding onto one another.

To ease the atmosphere, Mrs. Tselyk joked. When they assembled improvised sleeping platforms, she would be the first to lie down on them and say, “Well, this one will definitely hold.” People laughed – and for at least a few moments, it brought back a sense of normality.

Her colleagues began calling her a “bomb shelter commandant.”

And there was something deeply Ukrainian in that: even in the darkest conditions, creating order, supporting one another, and continuing to work.

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Giving Birth to Life Despite the War

During their time in the shelter, the medical staff delivered around ten babies right there underground.

On the very first day, two sets of triplets were born.

Prematurely born children required special conditions, equipment, and warmth. That is why the most difficult procedures and surgeries were carried out on the first floor – under shelling, risking their own lives, but saving the children.

But at that moment, the main resource was not the equipment. The main resource was people.

Today, when the world speaks about the resilience of Ukrainian healthcare during the war, people often mean the system. But in reality, it endured because of the people who refused to abandon their patients.

Because of the midwives who warmed diapers against their own bodies. Because of the nurses who carried water during shelling. Because of the teams that did not fall apart under fear.

When Vira Tselyk is asked about that period today, she hardly speaks about herself. She talks about her colleagues, pregnant women, husbands worried for their wives, and about a team that simultaneously became doctors, psychologists, janitors, and porters.

For her, it was essential to remain in a white medical coat even in the damp underground shelter. She understood: the patients looked at her as a point of reference. If the doctors and nurses are calm and neat, then life goes on.

Once, one of the women asked in despair whether they would all be killed there. Vira answered confidently:

– What, don’t you trust me? I know for certain: in 10 days, it will all be over.

It was not true. But that white lie helped the woman in labor hold herself together on the verge of a psychological breakdown.

When Vira Tselyk speaks about the women who gave birth in the bomb shelter, there is respect in her voice.

“They are heroes. They gave birth despite the explosions. They were giving Ukraine its future.”

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A Profession That Will Never Again Be “Ordinary” After the War

After everything she lived through, Vira Tselyk wrote a book titled “42 Days in a Bomb Shelter”. She donated part of the proceeds from its sales to support the military.

She says that the war made her more sentimental. Now she worries more deeply about every woman who comes to give birth. More often, she cries when remembering those days.

But most importantly, she still speaks about her profession with love.

“A midwife is the person who is the first to hold a little Ukrainian in their arms,” says Vira.

And perhaps this is the main lesson of Vira Tselyk’s story.

The war changed Ukrainian healthcare. But even more, it changed our perception of medical workers themselves/

We saw not just people in white coats. We saw people capable of remaining humane where the world around them had ceased to be humane.

For Mrs. Tselyk, every new baby’s cry heard beneath the roar of artillery became a true victory of life over death. And it is precisely this unbreakable faith – that life will inevitably prevail – that makes her profession one of the greatest in the world.

We heard Vira’s story from her colleagues – people who sincerely wanted as many others as possible to learn about this remarkable woman. Yet when we interviewed Vira Tselyk herself, she spoke about her team, about their shared work and shared achievements.

And this is what leaves the deepest impression. This unconditional respect and love between people, this team that together passed through fear, loss, and the trials of war – it moves, inspires, and restores faith that Ukraine will be alright. Precisely because of people like them.