War is always about loss: the story of Mariam, who asked to change her name

Cover photo by Marut Vanyan

The Artsakh blockade began in December 2022 and lasted until the latest war in September 2023. During this time, the people of Artsakh faced many challenges: food shortages, lack of heating due to rolling blackouts and gas disconnections, and constant security threats. These hardships will remain in the memory of every Artsakh Armenian. Yet, life continued—people got married, had children, and lived in their homes. And, believe me, many would have preferred enduring the blockade in their own homes rather than becoming destitute.

I want to share the story of a woman who got married during the blockade, just months before the war of September 19, 2023. Every girl likely has dreams and wishes for her special day—her wedding. Mariam’s dream wasn’t about the wedding itself, but about the newlywed journey. However, because of the blockade and the fuel shortage, even traveling within Artsakh was impossible. So, Mariam and her husband decided to walk to Gandzasar—50 km from Stepanakert. They hitchhiked part of the way and walked the rest. At the time, Mariam didn’t know she was already pregnant.

Fortunately, the long journey didn’t affect her pregnancy. When they found out they were expecting a baby, they were overjoyed. Even when no one knew what the future held, they believed their child was a blessing. Mariam’s husband cherished the idea of family and fatherhood, as he had grown up without a father—his father went missing in the first Artsakh war shortly after he was born in 1994. All his life, his father held a special significance for him. Having never experienced fatherly care, he longed to provide it for his own child.

On September 18, Mariam underwent a medical examination at the hospital, where she learned the gender of her baby. When the doctor was about to reveal it, Mariam interrupted him and asked him to write it on a piece of paper, as she wanted to throw a baby shower and share the surprise with her family and friends. She took the note with the baby’s gender, put it in her pocket, and went on her way.

The next day, the war started. Mariam was at her sister’s office when she heard the sound of blasts. They quickly took shelter in a nearby school’s bunker. While trying to comfort the children, a sudden thought struck her—she realized she might die without knowing the gender of her child. Amidst the explosions, the hollering children, and the crying teachers, she pulled out the piece of paper. She read it, closed her eyes, and whispered, “It’s a boy…”

When it became relatively quiet, they were able to return home and hide in their basement. Fear, stress, war, and the blockade weighed heavily on them. When the road opened and people began to leave, panic set in over the possibility of the road closing again. Many went through deep mental anguish. The stress took a toll on Mariam’s health, and she started to feel worse. When she went to the hospital, it was revealed that her baby’s life was at risk… She shared a ward with another woman at the same stage of pregnancy. The hospital was nearly empty, with only a few staff present. Several hours later, Mariam suffered a miscarriage.

It is probably impossible to describe what Mariam and her husband felt. Everyone shared the same pain—the loss of home and homeland. But their pain was compounded by the loss of their baby. The next day, they had to leave Artsakh. What could she take with her? What is there to take after losing the most precious thing? Only mothers can truly empathize with this feeling.

“I lost my child in my womb, who was around three months old, but I had the impression that I lost a son of thirty… as if we had lived together all our lives,” said Mariam. “If it weren’t for my husband, I would have left Artsakh without taking anything. I couldn’t think about anything. How can one think about jewelry, curtains, and bed linen when you’ve just lost your child? My husband packed all my things and took just a few items for himself… He felt equally miserable, and I will always respect him for supporting and empowering me during this hard time.”

They departed the next day. Her husband was driving the car, his mother sat next to him, and Mariam lay on the back seat, unable to recover from the miscarriage and the operation.

They were on the road for forty hours. Mariam’s husband comforted her, telling her that if the miscarriage had happened the next day, they would have been in the convoy heading to Armenia, and it would have been difficult to save even her. Upon arriving in Goris, Mariam underwent a medical examination. The doctor found that the operation in Stepanakert hadn’t cleared all the remains of the fetus from her womb, and she needed to undergo another operation. Thus, she had two operations within just a few days.

Already in Yerevan, Mariam lay in bed for days in complete apathy. She visited doctors, and her body was slowly recovering. During one of her doctor visits, she met the mother of the woman who had been in the same ward with her in Stepanakert. The woman told her that her daughter had given birth. While happy for her, Mariam couldn’t help but think that she, too, could have been in that clinic with a newborn baby.

War is always about loss. And it is always about far more losses than it may seem. The consequences of war are deep and multi-faceted, often going unnoticed at first glance. How many times can one lose those closest to their heart?

P.S. The real name of the main character in this story has been changed at her request.

This story was prepared as part of a project implemented by “Stepanakert” Media Club. The original was published in Russian on Step1.am.