“Every time they brought me a new child I felt like it was my own child, the feeling of a mother giving birth,” she said of the more than 30 children she has taken care of in the past seventeen years. “I do not feel like I’m caring for the child of a stranger, I have the same feelings of a mother who carries her own child.”
Sundus, 48, has four children of her own, but she has built such strong attachment to the children at the foster home that her heart breaks every time a child grows up and leaves or taken away for adoption.
“Every time I had to give away a child for adoption I was heartbroken, I was very sad,” she said of some cases when Kurdish families came to adopt one of the children. “I cannot describe it with words, deep down I was devastated.”
No matter how long a child may spend in her care—a month or two years—her affection for them is lasting and strong. “It is very hard for me. I could feel the emptiness of my house. I remember the child’s giggles, dinnertime and everything about that child. The empty bed.”
Most of the children Sundus takes care of are girls. But recently the authorities brought her Ali, a one-year-old toddler who was found abandoned outside a hospital in Erbil with nothing but a nametag.
"I bring him with me to the office and when I go home I take him with me just like my own child," said Sundus as she was preparing a bottle of milk for Ali.
Little Ali returns Sundus’s affection and kindness with hugs and kisses. “The hug that he gives me or the feeling of seeing him after a long day and how he runs towards me is everything.”
Despite her bond with the children and the feeling of emptiness they leave behind, Sundus is mindful of the fact that at some point they need to move on in life, sometimes to new parents or a place where they could be happy.
“Because I do this for a human purpose I am happy when they get adopted,” she said. “I never forget any of the children that I took care of and the children recognize me even after a long time.”
For Sundus working at a foster home is not just a job. It is to give children the love and care they need at this vulnerable young age, something that she missed the most growing up without a father.
“I was raised without a father and because of that I know how it feels,” she said of her own childhood. “When I see any child I want to give them everything I can. Only those who are raised without the love of parents know how this feels or means.”
Sundus’ family and friends were unsure of her choice when she decided to take care of orphan children, especially when the first one she received was a premature baby of seven months old.
“I had to take it home and provide it with special care,” she recalled the day. “My family and friends were surprised but then I received more children they got used to it.”
Now, her family and neighbors have even started to acknowledge her strengthen for taking care of so many children and “they say they are praying for me,”
For Mother Sundus children are innocent angels who shouldn’t be tainted with religious or ethnic labels. “I will continue taking care of these children regardless of their religious or other background. I have taken care of Muslim, Christian, Kurd and Arab infants. I do not ask about the ethnicity of the child because I do not care.”
Sometimes after meeting some of the children’s families years later, Sundus realizes that the child was lucky not to grow up with such a family and grateful that she could give them a better upbringing.
“Most of the time I think about the family of the children and sometimes we know them and we are grateful for not letting them grow up with them because we know what kind of family they are and the future of the children is predictable with that kind of family,”
Each time she receives a nameless or parentless child, Sundus takes them for a medical checkup and she sometimes pays the bill from her own pocket.
“These are the government’s children that should be provided with everything,” she said, but the government sometimes fails and staff members or volunteers step in to help.
Activities at the foster home range from learning computer skills, English words or cooking. Sometimes they are taken for a picnic or a tour of Erbil’s shopping malls. Sundus makes sure their birthdays are also celebrated. The most recent birthday party was Ali’s, who just turned 1.
Some of the children Sundus has raised in the last seventeen years have gone on to get married and become mothers and fathers in their own rights.
And now there is this tradition of coming back to her to feel her motherly warmth and kindness.
“Those I took care of are now married and have children. They usually visit me and ask me if I need anything. I’m like a grandmother to them.”
She gives away some of the girls on their wedding day. Others call her to be by their side when they give birth.
The law in Kurdistan stipulates that only local citizens can adopt a child and they have to meet many other conditions set by the law.
That’s why many of the girls Sundus takes care of stay in the foster home till the age of 18 before they are sent to their extended families or married.
Sundus is not only a mother for the toddlers, but also a shelter for the grownups.
“Some cannot stay with their extended families and come back running and crying,” she said. “And those who get married sometimes end up with a bad husband and an unhappy life.”
