I am the author of the Goodacity blog, a journalist, and a translator. For 16 years, I have worked in professional journalism, contributing to regional and national publications, both in print and online media. I have written reports, conducted interviews, reviews, articles on cultural, social, and charitable topics, as well as materials in the style of "solution journalism" and communication materials.
My focus is on creating interesting and exclusive content. Journalism, to me, is primarily about human stories, to which I always find the key, empathize with the people I write about, and love all my heroes. Journalism, to me, means telling people about what truly matters to them, informing and inspiring them. It is not just a job, but a way of life, just like for all those who dream, create, and are inspired by it.
So, if you are looking for stories that inspire and motivate, that instill faith and help find meaning while believing in goodness, read my stories on the Goodacity website.
I am a manager of cultural affairs and a project manager with over 14 years of experience at United Thinkers. I have participated in the organization of numerous successful social and charitable projects and have implemented informational campaigns and communication cases.
As a marketing manager, I have been involved in organizing marketing and sociological research, working with media and partners, developing advertising and marketing strategies, as well as planning and implementing advertising campaigns.
I believe in the power of goodness and I am happy that as part of the Goodacity project, I can contribute to its expansion. I believe in the power of words and in the fact that communication can help make the world a better place. I know how, where and when to speak in order to be heard. And when you are heard, you can change the world!
Having a child with special needs is not a sentence!
The word “mom” is so simple and so significant… Every mother, holding her child for the first time, dreams of the moment when she will hear it from their lips.
Mrs. Natalya from the village of Mykhailo-Kotsyubynske, Ukraine, heard the word “Mom” when her son Sasha was well past 25.
“Sasha is a special child,” the woman says. “Although when he was born, the doctors didn’t tell me about any problems,” she shares.
“Symptoms of developmental delay began to appear over time: he sat up and walked later than other children…
Time passed, and by the age of three, we still hadn’t heard a single word from him.
The local doctors we consulted just threw up their hands – saying they didn’t know what the issue was, not to worry, to wait a little longer, boys develop later, everything is normal… But when we got alarmed and took Sasha to Kyiv, Ukraine, for an examination, a series of concerning diagnoses began to emerge, and the question arose: “What next?”.
This is a story about a strong woman. And about immense maternal love, stronger than any difficulties!
Being the mother of a child with special needs: what it's like
The family’s yard in Mykhailo-Kotsyubynske is very neat and cozy, with a large capsicum bush greeting us right at the gate, followed by a corridor of roses. “The house, garden, vegetable patch, being a homemaker – that’s a given, but flowers – they’re my solace,” says Mrs. Natalya. “It’s just that this year, with all the care needed elsewhere, there’s neither time to tend to them nor to enjoy their bloom…” In the neighboring village, there’s a bedridden mother she must care for, at home, a husband with cancer, and Sasha, for whom his mother is his entire world…
“I’m trained as a seamstress,” Mrs. Natalya shares, “but I’ve spent my life being a mother. Since we discovered Sasha’s problems, I’ve been with him all the time. Doctors, diagnoses, each more disheartening than the last, medical commissions, treatments…
After numerous medical assessments, Sasha was sent to a school for children with severe speech disorders in Vasylkiv, Ukraine – we attended it for 11 years. There, he became more independent, and, although he never started speaking, he acquired basic self-care skills. That was a very hard time for me because I was hoping for a miracle, for everything to get better.
But things turned out as they did – no miracle happened. Sasha, who is almost 30, hardly speaks and requires constant care. But for me, the most important thing is to accept and love him as he is. If you have a special child, life doesn’t stop; it’s not a sentence. Maternal love doesn’t weigh the diagnoses…
Sasha is a very kind, very bright young man. He loves and cares for all living things, looking after all the animals on the farm. He feeds the chickens, pets them, makes sure our dog Amur doesn’t bother them. We used to keep broilers for meat – but had to give that up because Sasha wouldn’t let them be slaughtered; now, all our chickens live to a ripe old age,” the woman smiles. “Essentially, Sasha and I are always together: if I go somewhere, I take him with me – it’s a rare opportunity for him to get out, to get some fresh air, because here, in the village, he doesn’t have any friends. His peers have families, jobs…
Sasha has learned to use the computer – he loves football and watches matches with enthusiasm. He loves books – whenever I find a free moment, we read together. And in the last few years, he slowly, letter by letter, started to form words – he says ‘Mom’, ‘Dad’, names his favorite footballers and team names. For us, that is happiness…”.
Being a mother means protecting your child
Sasha is very sensitive; as a special child, he requires a calm and steady life where everything is scheduled, and everyone is close by. A life without explosions and war, filled with mutual care. Unfortunately, last spring was different…
“The scariest thing for all of us was that we experienced the full-scale Russian invasion separately,” the woman recounts. “Sasha stayed in Mykhailo-Kotsyubynske with his father, while I went to Dniprovsk, Ukraine, to visit my sick bedridden mother. I periodically go there to cook, do laundry, and help my brother take care of our mother. It so happened that just before the full-scale invasion, my brother had to travel to Chernihiv, Ukraine, on business, I went to our mother, and my husband Mykhailo stayed home with Sasha. I woke up on the 24th in the morning to war surrounding us, our border village had been shelled during the night… The bridge over the Dnipro River was blown up, buses were not running, there was no communication between the villages, nor was there any phone service…
As soon as some form of communication became available, I called my family: Sasha was having a very hard time with these events, he was disoriented and scared, not understanding what was happening, and everything possible was flying over our village towards Chernihiv, it was terrifying… The village was occupied, the occupiers came to our house, but fortunately, they did not harm Mykhailo or Sasha… It was very hard to experience this separately, as a mother’s job is to protect her child… There were several hits close to our home, I was very worried for my husband and son. As soon as the Russian troops retreated from Chernihiv, I rushed back to them.
Sasha struggles with news of shelling, the need to hide in the cellar… Every morning he wakes up and says, “Putin is poop!”. He brings me a map of Ukraine – I tell him, “Sasha, this is our big home, we will win back everything, we will definitely have peace and tranquility…”.
Trouble doesn’t come alone – after the full-scale invasion, the family’s already difficult life became even harder.
“Sasha’s dental prostheses, which he has had for a long time, fell apart due to stress,” Mrs. Natalya says. “He has had dental problems since he was a child, he had cysts removed, and the teeth on his upper jaw almost crumbled away, so he wore a bridge. Now, the situation is catastrophic – all his teeth have ‘fallen apart’, and treatment is very expensive. We do what we can, treat and get prosthetics – I feel so sorry for Sasha because he literally has nothing to chew with…
Our main breadwinner, my husband, is now bedridden with a serious illness. In our native Mykhailo-Kotsyubynske, he’s known as a handyman: here, in our village, he has fixed, repaired, or built something in almost every other house…
The war exacerbated his illness: Mykhailo was very stressed, took Sasha to the basement, and sat there with him for hours, and it’s damp and cold in the cellar – so the stress and everything he went through turned into cancer… How I can manage everything on my own now – I can’t imagine…”.
As we say goodbye, Mrs. Natalya offers tomatoes from her garden: “Please have some, they’ll go bad otherwise, I’ve been giving them away to as many people as I can, let at least them have it… I canned as much as I could because it’s a pity to waste the effort: I picked the seeds myself, grew the seedlings in the greenhouse, tended the garden, Sasha helped me as much as he could, because our father is bedridden, and all the household chores are on me… And now, with all the hospital visits, I can’t see the light of day, I don’t have time for tomatoes… I try to at least bring joy to people with them now, because it’s in our human nature – to help each other, in whatever way we can…”.
