"I am not perfect - I am real": Olena Sosedka's motherhood as an example of strength

Being a mother is not just a title, but an entire universe. And when you have six children, it's a multidimensional reality that combines: sleepless nights, office deadlines, homework, and love that's enough for the whole world. The heroine of the UNN interview is Olena Sosiedka, a mother of six children, co-founder of Concord Fintech Solutions, and an expert in finance. And recently, she also became a "Mother Heroine". A woman who builds the world around her, for her children and for society. A woman who builds a business, raises children, is not afraid to be sincere and tired. A woman who speaks about domestic violence – something others often keep silent about. Her story is not about being ideal, but about the strength to be herself. About motherhood unfiltered.

– You recently received the honorary title "Mother Heroine". What does this mean to you?

– It's not a medal – it's a diagnosis (editor's note: Olena jokes). Complex, multi-layered, with side effects in the form of insomnia and increased heart rate when you hear "mom."

Initially, it was a startup: with complete uncertainty, unclear budgets, fears, and zero understanding of how it all worked.

Then serious investments. Experiments and emotional swings. And now – a grandiose multi-world under the code name "My children."

Every new day with them is my personal IPO (editor's note: Initial Public Offering – the process of a company going public to trade its own shares): rises and falls in capitalization, sometimes to space, sometimes into the red. It all depends on the mood, temperature, level of sleep deprivation, and yes, who ate the last piece of Dubai chocolate. It's a storm. A tornado. A comedy. A drama. And it's all mine. Down to the last crumb.

– Did you expect this title?

– No. I rarely "expect" anything. I either do, or save, or build, or love, or create – and all of it with children on my head, with a phone in my hands, in the kitchen and in messengers simultaneously. For me, this title is like getting an "Oscar" for a role where you were just yourself.

– How did you find out about the conferment of the title? What was your first emotion?

– How did I find out? It was business as usual: between a meeting and a shout: "Mom, I forgot! Tomorrow we need to bring a game to school! But not just any game, one that children with disabilities can play." Around that moment, a message appeared on my phone screen: "President of Ukraine Volodymyr Zelenskyy signed a decree on conferring the title 'Mother Heroine'."

My first thought was: "Thank God, at least someone noticed that I don't just cook aglio, olio e peperoncino or borscht, but simultaneously build a universe for my children and balance business budgets."

My second thought: "How can I even invent a game that all children can play... and at the same time they will laugh, not yawn?"

– Has your self-perception changed after receiving the award? Have you noticed how others' attitudes towards you have changed? 

– Yes. Now I am more often called a "Heroine." And you know, I feel that I am worthy of this. Although sometimes it seems like the title "Mother Heroine" even frightens some - as if you immediately grow wings, a mission, a sleepless schedule, and a heroic superhero suit. And incidentally, my sister received this title 10 years ago.

Now we joke that our parents have two daughters, and both are heroines. A hundred percent hit! Probably, the state should think about a special order for grandparents who have not one, but two daughters with the title "Mother Heroine" at once. This is almost a dynasty.

Of course, I'm joking. Seriously – inside, there's more internal permission to be tired and not feel guilty about it. Sometimes to sit in an armchair, look at the children, and say: "My old age is now certainly provided for. By you, my dear ones. So, live long and love me very much. Preferably, with food delivery."

– And how did the children react to your title "Mother Heroine"?

– Each reacted in their own style, as always. Some with a joke, some with a twinkle in their eyes, some just came and hugged. One of the sons immediately asked: "Can I be a 'Son-Hero' now?". The youngest daughter asked when she would get a superhero costume, preferably with a pink cape. But the main thing is that in their eyes I saw something that money can't buy: respect, love, trust, and recognition. And that, agree, is worth more than any medal. 

– Do you consider this title relevant in society?

– Yes. Even more so than before. Because nowadays, giving birth to a child is one thing, but raising them is completely another. Especially when you are not just a mother, but also a logistician, therapist, accountant, lawyer, psychologist, and the state rolled into one. I think mothers who are reading this interview understand me perfectly well. 

After all, this title is not given simply for the number of children. It is awarded when the fifth child has already turned eight years old. So, it's not about the math of birth, but about how you raise children: loving, supporting, picking them up when they fall. It's not about numbers – it's about soul, patience, and that daily work that no one writes reports about.

– Did you always dream of a large family? Was it a conscious desire from your youth, or a decision that came later?

– Honestly? No. I dreamed of Paris. About waking up in the morning to the smell of croissants with a view of the Eiffel Tower. I dreamed of coffee in bed, of a smile, of starched sheets and Dior dresses hanging in the closet. Of Chanel hats and a convertible parked at the entrance. Of a small dog and a reflection in the mirror with perfectly painted red lips. Of eyes that read: "I can do everything."

And then came the children: the first, the second, the third... the sixth. And I suddenly realized that this is what true life is. Not the glossy and perfect picture my imagination painted. But a lively, rich, loud, and sometimes even difficult one. With different stages, ups and downs, exhausting and joyful, unfiltered and with an open heart.

– How do you manage to pay attention to all your children? So that no one feels jealous and everyone feels that mom is present? 

– I recently came across a very accurate joke: 

"A little girl says to her mom:

— You know, Grandma said that when she was your age, she was merrier, kinder, and generally managed to do much more.

And her mom replies with a slight sadness:

— Yes, sweetie… It's just that back then, they added cocaine to "Coca-Cola."

This, of course, is just a joke. But seriously — how do I have enough for everyone? Sometimes I intuitively feel who needs me more, sometimes only a large dose of caffeine helps. 

But you have to understand, I'm a living person. Like everyone, I make mistakes. It's impossible to raise a child without scratches on their soul. My friend once said: "If you know your child's name and where they are right now — you're already a wonderful mother."

Ultimately, children don't feel the number of minutes, but the quality of presence. They read love, not schedules. So I don't try to be perfect. I'm real. 

– Has your approach to children changed when comparing the first and the last one? 

– Of course. With the first child, I ironed diapers on both sides. With the second - on one. With the third - I just washed them. With the fourth - I no longer worried if the diapers weren't washed at all. And the fifth child wore hand-me-down diapers from the fourth. I hope they were washed.

The first child listened to Bach and Mozart. The second listened to his older brother. The third son listened to everyone but me. The fourth made me listen to myself. And the fifth child made all of us listen to her. 

Between the second and third child, Dasha appeared (editor's note: Olena's adopted daughter). She was 11 years old. And that's a completely different story. A story not about biology, but about fate. A story about acceptance. About freedom. And about the fact that "mom" is not about DNA, but about the heart.

And essentially, children don't need a lot of extracurriculars. They need one thing: love, freedom to be themselves, and respect. This is what I didn't realize immediately. Somewhere in the middle. When I stopped chasing "how things should be" – and started being present. Real. Without a bulletproof vest and without a role.

– How do you manage to combine your career in finance and motherhood? 

– Sometimes badly. Sometimes perfectly. But most often – simultaneously. I can write strategy while boiling pasta. Think through a business development plan while driving the car, taking children to school or a club. And in the evening, I sometimes have the task of urgently finding "Labubu" (a popular, rare toy - ed.) and simultaneously making a plan for tomorrow's workday.

Balance? No! Rather – a dance. A dance in heels, between deadlines and home, between lack of sleep and the sound of my children's beloved voices and their constant "Mom!" But I dance this dance wonderfully. In it, I "lead". And I don't choose between children and professional self-realization. I do both simultaneously: for them, for us, for myself.

– Domestic violence is a widely discussed topic in society. What do you think about it, and how do you talk about it with your children? 

– We talk about it at home. We don't just discuss it – we call things by their names. Because I also had such an experience in my life. Unfortunately, I went through that.

My ex-husband raised his hand to me: he yelled, humiliated, threatened.

And you know what was the most terrifying? Not the blow itself, but the silence afterward. Silence from those who knew he was hitting me. But they pretended nothing happened. Someone said: "It's their private matter"; "They'll sort it out themselves"; "Don't interfere - they'll make up afterward, and you'll be blamed." That was more painful than any blows.

So yes, I talk about it with my children. I teach them: if someone hits you — that's not love; if someone yells and humiliates you — that's not passion; if someone breaks you – they are not strong, they are weak and dangerous.

You know, no one in our society teaches children what to do when dad hits mom or raises a hand to a child. No one teaches that in such families, it's possible and even necessary to talk about it. And not to hide and withdraw. And certainly not to keep silent out of fear. I changed this in my family. With my voice and hands. Through pain, through experience and actions.

– Did you seek help after the violence against you? 

– When it happened, I felt fear and shame. I was afraid that I wouldn't be believed. After all, in our society, instead of support, you might hear: "Are you sure you weren't provoking?". However, I am not one of those people who succumb to fear. That's why I chose not to be silent.

I speak for myself and for those who cannot yet. Because as long as at least one woman is silent, violence continues. And I don't want my children to grow up in a world where "enduring" is the norm. I want them to know: respect and partnership are the foundation in a family, and silencing problems is a danger.

– What is the difference in attitude towards violence between Ukraine and EU countries?

– When I faced domestic violence in another country – I felt a big difference. Abroad, the law works without excuses. There is a clear protection mechanism. They listen, act, intervene. 

And here... domestic violence is a painful topic. The state too often cannot protect women and children. Laws seem to exist, but they are weak, formal, uncooperative. Unfortunately, 90% of violence is silenced and goes unpunished. But the silence of those who know about it is complicity. I was both in the room where they screamed and in the one where they were silent. Now – I choose to speak. To speak for those who are still afraid. And for the me who once was silent.

– What management skills from home do you apply in business – and vice versa?

– Multitasking. Diplomacy. Resource allocation. And, of course, the ability to negotiate with people who scream, argue, and fundamentally want nothing but "for everything to be their way." Sometimes these are children. Sometimes – shareholders. 

The difference is minimal: everyone has their own speed, their own logic, and their own moment of emotional peak. Sometimes a person just wants to be heard and not interrupted. After all, everyone has their own temperament and energy. Everyone has their own view of life and their own truth. No universal solutions. No "everyone gets the same." There is only mutual respect. This is the main thing: in family, in business, and in negotiations.

– Do your children consider you a role model professionally?

– I hope... not entirely. Because my lifestyle is truly difficult. Children see that their mother works and never gives up. Falls and gets back up again. That she always loves, that sometimes she's tired, but still holds on. They see that their mother is not afraid to be vulnerable, that she tells the truth and always stands guard over her values.

And when one of them says: "I am proud of the kind of person my mom is," — for me, that's more than any career, medal, or title. But I really hope that my children don't turn my path into a universal script. Because it's my path. With all its burdens, sleepless nights, and decisions made in the dark.

I just want them to be happy and fulfilled. And that, looking back, they can say: "Mom wasn't perfect. But she was real." And that, perhaps, is the best model of all.

– What would you change in state policy regarding large families?

– I would replace "formal" measures with real steps of support. We don't need paper benefits and empty promises. We need tutors, psychologists, legal protection, access to medical and educational resources. So that a mother is not the sole resource for the entire family.

Large families are not just about "many children." It's a lot of love, work, and investment. And if we're talking about recognition, it should be given not for quantity, but for the quality of upbringing. Because that is the basis of a strong future for the country.

– How do you feel about stereotypes about mothers with many children?

– Two stereotypes still exist in society: the first—a kerchief, a string bag, and children in torn jackets; the second—"poor, can't cope," always with a tired face and in a perpetually dirty sweater.

But that's not true. We, mothers of many children, are different: beautiful, tired, strong, fragile. And yes, sometimes with a manicure, sometimes with porridge on our blouses, but alive. The main thing is – let us live, not just survive.

– What is the most difficult and most valuable thing for you in motherhood?

– The hardest thing is to let go. At the right time. Not too early and not too late. But it's essential to let go. And the most valuable thing is to see how your love turns into actions. With character, with dreams, with a twinkle in their eyes. With new plans, strategies, projects, with the desire to see and understand: initially, the children were my startups, and now they are their own companies. And the most I can do now is not to hinder them from building their own companies and lives. 

After all, if you lay a good foundation, build the right processes, then believe that they will go for an IPO and capitalization will grow. 

– What advice would you give to women who dream of both a family and a career?

– I would say: don't listen to those who say you have to choose. You can and should combine them. Yes, it will be difficult. But the main thing every woman needs to do is get rid of guilt. The reasons can be varied: an extra hour at work instead of an hour with the child; or conversely, feeling guilty towards colleagues and shareholders for an early end to the workday to be with the child. Sometimes you'll have to go on a business trip, leaving the child in tears. That hurts a lot. Sometimes you'll have to cry from exhaustion. And sometimes you'll shine because you're where you belong.

You will be stronger with each child. You will be even better with each step up the career ladder. You will be sometimes a fallen angel, sometimes a good fairy. 

You may not have children at all, and that's your choice. You can have one, five, ten — and that's also your choice. No one has the right to tell you how to live. This is your life, and you will manage.