When Trauma Comes Home: Protecting Ukraine's Children from the Invisible Wounds of War

Marko was only three when his father returned from the war in Bosnia. He had no memory of the conflict, no understanding of what his father had endured during those terrible years. Yet by the time he started school, Marko was struggling with night terrors, would dissolve into tears at loud noises, and found it nearly impossible to concentrate in class. His teacher didn't know that war trauma had found its way into their peaceful classroom—carried there not by a child who had seen battle, but by invisible wounds that had traveled from father to son.

This is the story that research from Bosnia tells us, and it's a story that thousands of Ukrainian families are beginning to write today. When we talk about supporting veterans, we often focus on the individual—the soldier who needs healing. But trauma doesn't respect boundaries. It moves through households like ripples in water, touching everyone it reaches.

The Truth About Trauma in Families

In Bosnia, researchers made a discovery that changed how we understand the lasting impact of war: PTSD doesn't stop with the person who experienced it. It flows into family life, shaping how parents interact with their children, how children learn to see the world, and how entire families navigate daily life.

The statistics are staggering, but more importantly, they represent real families struggling in silence. Children of Bosnian veterans with PTSD were nearly 18 times more likely to experience emotional problems than children whose parents didn't have PTSD. They were four times more likely to have behavioral issues and more than twice as likely to face developmental challenges.

Think about what this means for Ukrainian families. Every veteran returning home carries not just their own healing journey, but the potential to either pass on trauma or break the cycle for their children. Every spouse waiting for their partner's return is preparing to support not just one person's recovery, but potentially their entire family's wellbeing.

The Many Faces of Childhood Trauma

When trauma comes home, it doesn't announce itself. It shows up in ways that might seem unrelated to war—a child who suddenly can't sleep through the night, a teenager who becomes aggressive at school, a young person who seems to carry sadness too heavy for their years.

In Bosnia, researchers found specific patterns that should concern every Ukrainian family:

Night fears became epidemic among children of traumatised veterans—affecting 17.5% compared to just 2.6% of other children. In Ukraine, where children have already spent months sleeping in subway stations and bomb shelters, this vulnerability is particularly heartbreaking.

Depression struck 14.9% of children with PTSD-affected parents, compared to only 1.3% of other children. These aren't just statistics—they represent young people losing their natural optimism and hope before they've even had a chance to fully experience childhood.

School became a struggle for many children, not because they lacked intelligence, but because their home environment made it difficult to focus, trust authority figures, or feel safe enough to learn.

Understanding How Trauma Travels

How does a parent's battlefield experience become a child's nightmare? The answer lies in the fundamental ways that PTSD changes how we relate to others.

A parent struggling with hyperarousal might jump at sudden sounds, creating an atmosphere of constant tension in the home. Children learn to walk on eggshells, never knowing what might trigger an outburst. A parent dealing with emotional numbing might struggle to show affection or respond to their child's needs, leaving the child feeling unloved or unworthy of attention.

Perhaps most painfully, parents with PTSD often feel like they're failing their children, which only adds to their trauma. They see their struggles affecting their family and feel powerless to stop it. This creates a cycle where the parent's guilt compounds their symptoms, which further impacts the family.

The economic realities make everything harder. In Bosnia, veterans with PTSD were significantly less likely to be employed and more likely to face chronic health problems. When families are struggling financially and a parent is battling invisible wounds, children often step into roles they're not ready for—becoming caregivers, mediators, or even breadwinners before they've had a chance to simply be children.

Stories from the Heart of Trauma

Behind every statistic is a human story. In post-war Bosnia, teachers began noticing patterns they hadn't seen before. Children who would freeze during fire drills. Students who couldn't concentrate when classmates raised their voices. Young people who seemed to carry an adult's worth of worry in their small bodies.

Social workers described teenagers dropping out of school to support their families, not just financially but emotionally—becoming the stable presence their traumatised parent couldn't be. Some turned to alcohol or risky behaviors, unconsciously mimicking their parent's attempts to escape painful feelings.

One Bosnian mother shared how her daughter would wet the bed whenever her father had flashbacks—a child's body responding to trauma she couldn't even understand. These stories remind us that children are like emotional barometers, absorbing and reflecting the atmospheric pressure of their homes.

The Orphans and the Lost

Perhaps the most heartbreaking findings came from studying children who had lost parents to war. In Bosnia, researchers found that children living in institutions or who had lost parents showed the highest rates of PTSD—sometimes affecting nearly 40 out of every 48 children studied.

This has profound implications for Ukraine, where thousands of children have already been orphaned or separated from their families. These children face a double burden: their own direct trauma from experiencing war, and the absence of the very people who could help them heal—their parents.

Breaking the Cycle: Hope for Ukrainian Families

While these findings are sobering, they also illuminate the path forward. Understanding how trauma travels through families is the first step in stopping it. The research from Bosnia doesn't just show us the problem—it shows us what Ukrainian families need to heal together.

Family-centered healing approaches recognise that trauma affects entire households. When we provide therapy that includes both veterans and their family members, we address not just individual symptoms but the relational patterns that can either perpetuate or heal trauma.

Economic stability is emotional stability. Families struggling to meet basic needs have less emotional bandwidth for healing. Supporting Ukrainian veterans with employment opportunities, housing assistance, and healthcare isn't just practical—it's therapeutic for the entire family.

Safe spaces for children outside the home become crucial. Schools, community centers, and programs specifically designed for children of veterans can provide the stability and support that traumatised parents might temporarily struggle to offer.

Early intervention makes all the difference. Children's brains are still developing, which means they're both more vulnerable to trauma and more responsive to healing interventions. Catching problems early can prevent a lifetime of struggle.

Recognising the Signs

For Ukrainian families, friends, teachers, and community members, knowing what to look for can make the difference between a child who struggles alone and one who gets the help they need:

• Changes in sleep patterns or persistent nightmares

• Sudden behavioral changes like aggression, withdrawal, or regression to younger behaviors

• Difficulty concentrating in school or dramatic changes in academic performance

• Excessive worry about safety or fear of separation from parents

• Physical symptoms without medical cause, like headaches or stomachaches

• Taking on adult responsibilities inappropriately early

A Message of Hope

The story of intergenerational trauma is not a story of inevitability—it's a story of awareness and opportunity. Every Ukrainian veteran who seeks help for their PTSD is not just healing themselves; they're potentially preventing their children from carrying forward the wounds of war. Every family member who learns about trauma's ripple effects becomes part of the solution.

We've learned from Bosnia that trauma can echo through generations, but we've also learned that healing can echo just as powerfully. When families heal together, they don't just recover from war—they build resilience that can protect future generations.

The children of Ukrainian veterans watching their parents struggle today will grow up to be Ukraine's leaders, teachers, parents, and healers tomorrow. By supporting entire families in their healing journey, we're not just addressing today's trauma—we're investing in Ukraine's future.

Our Commitment to Families

At Viburnum Bridge Foundation, we understand that supporting a veteran means supporting their entire family. We know that a child's nightmares might be as connected to the war as their parent's flashbacks. We know that healing happens not just in therapy sessions but around dinner tables, during bedtime stories, and in the countless small moments that make up family life.

We're committed to providing resources not just for veterans, but for their spouses who are learning how to support someone with PTSD, for their children who are trying to understand why home sometimes feels scary, and for their extended families who want to help but don't know how.

Because when we heal families, we heal communities. And when we heal communities, we build the foundation for a Ukraine that doesn't just survive its trauma, but transforms it into wisdom, compassion, and strength.

The war in Ukraine will end one day. But the healing—the real, deep healing that prevents trauma from echoing through generations—that work starts now, and it starts with families.