Finding parenthood in the wake of destruction

Sunlight filters gently through the gauzy curtains of a small children's room in a devastated Gaza neighbourhood, lighting up Iman's face as she gazes lovingly at the infant in her arms. Her trembling fingers caress the baby's soft cheeks. Her husband Rami, sitting next to her, watches their daughter, who seems to be adjusting quickly to the warmth of a family that has long awaited her arrival. 

For over two decades, Rami Al-Arouqi (47) and his wife Iman (45) lived in anguished loneliness, renewed each time by another doctor who confirmed their inability to conceive. Amid the brutality of the war on Gaza, they have been given an unexpected gift: a baby girl to call their own. She was found among the rubble, without a family, without a name, with no hand to hold her. 

The couple decided to take her in through the fostering program, renowned throughout Gaza. 

"I know nothing about her other than that she survived being trapped under the rubble," Rami told Qantara. "The paramedics found her crying on the balcony of a bombed-out residential building." The child was transferred to the Ministry of Social Development, which then placed her in the care of the Al-Arouqis. They named her Jannah—Arabic for "paradise."

As soon as he held her, Rami felt that she was kin, as though they had been waiting for one another. "I've always heard about the children who survived massacres, with no family left—no father, no mother, no one at all," said Rami, who has lived in an apartment with his relatives since his home in Gaza City's Al-Nasr neighbourhood was destroyed. This reality of childhood in Gaza has stirred in him a deep sense of national and human responsibility, embodied in the act of fostering a child survivor.

Rami started by contacting hospitals directly until a doctor informed him that it was possible to foster children through the Ministry of Social Development. "She told me Jannah’s story, which compelled me to take her in. I felt that she was our child," he recalled. 

The notion of fostering a baby amid the dire conditions in Gaza, however, was daunting. Rami points to the innumerable challenges, chief among them being the scarcity of infant supplies: milk, diapers and clothing. 

But Iman, yearning deeply for the experience of motherhood, is determined to provide for Jannah’s every need. "I may not have carried her in my womb, but I have carried her in my heart from the first moment. She is now my daughter, in every sense of the word," she says. 

Since then, the couple's once cold and empty days have been transformed into something resembling jannah itself—filled with an infant's giggles, the smell of milk and the warmth of newfound parenthood. 

Changing attitudes towards fostering

Rami and Iman's story is not unique. Many couples who have been unable to conceive for years are now opening their homes to children orphaned by the war. The devastation has contributed to shifting societal attitudes toward fostering. 

According to the Palestinian Central Bureau of Statistics, more than 39,000 children have lost parents in Gaza since 7 October 2023, including over 17,000 children who have lost both parents. Most of them are now living with their relatives. 

Hala Atallah, head of the fostering program at Gaza's Ministry of Social Development, told Qantara that the ministry is currently caring for only 18 infant survivors who have lost their families and whose relatives have not been located. She added that dozens more remain with families who found them at bomb sites—families that the ministry has been unable to reach due to ongoing airstrikes, restricted mobility, and repeated displacement, as well as damage to ministry facilities. 

Atallah said that the war has led to a significant increase in interest in fostering orphaned children and the ministry continues to receive dozens of inquiries from Gazans about the fostering process.  

Among those are Sami Badwan (38) and his wife Shireen (36) who have been displaced to a shelter in Deir al-Balah. Their neighbours found a baby boy, who was rescued after an airstrike destroyed his family's home in Gaza City's Al-Zeitoun neighbourhood. 

The infant, only five months old, cried incessantly until Shireen took him in her arms. He immediately calmed down. She couldn't bring herself to let him go. The couple applied to foster him, hoping to give him love and care—even if he did not carry their name at birth. 

"We spent years visiting doctors and hospitals, but the answer was always the same: no hope of conceiving," said Shireen as she arranged the baby's clothes in a wardrobe, preparing their home in Jabalia refugee camp for his arrival. "But now there is newfound hope and a chance for me to become a mother."

Bureaucratic hurdles remain

For a moment, the decision to foster seemed straightforward for Sami and Shireen—until they were confronted by a series of bureaucratic hurdles. 

Atallah explains that the ministry is the only official authority overseeing child fostering. The term "adoption" is not used, as it is technically prohibited under Islamic law, which instead encourages "fostering orphans" under specific conditions. 

Despite the ongoing war, these bureaucratic conditions have remained in place. Only six children have been officially placed with foster families since the war began. Key requirements include: the couple must be Palestinian and under the age of 50; they must be married for at least eight years without children; and they must have attempted assisted reproduction methods (e.g., IVF, artificial insemination) without success. 

The couple must also be free of illnesses, and possess a clean criminal record and a certificate of good conduct. Their families must also approve of them fostering a child which is not biologically theirs. 

It is also crucial that the couple can financially support the child, and a thorough field investigation into the couple is undertaken before approval. 

As for registering the foster child in official documents, the ministry agrees on a name with the foster father, whose name is then recorded alongside the child's in official documentation. The ministry retains a record of the child being under foster care, not legally adopted. 

One particular clause in the procedure encourages foster mothers to consult a gynaecologist for hormone treatments that induce lactation. Producing enough milk for at least five full feedings establishes a maternal bond recognised by Islamic law. In Islam, this makes the child equivalent to a biological child in terms of rights and prohibitions—for example, whom they can or cannot marry—though the child will not inherit the parents' property, unless specified by will. 

"At around seven years of age, families are advised to gently explain to the child how they came to join the family, in a way that’s age-appropriate and avoids inducing further trauma," Atallah noted. 

This particular recommendation granted Sami and Shireen greater confidence in their decision to foster a child—to welcome into their lives a baby who has been so unjustly left alone in the world. 

"We've completed the medical exams and are moving ahead with the remaining procedures," says Shireen. "The truth is that with every step, I hold my breath, place my hand over my heart, and imagine our life with this little one about to come into our home."