UAE Foster Mothers Share Journey Of Raising Children 'Who Came From The Heart'

Many first-time applicants imagine foster care as a simple act of love, paperwork, approval, then bringing a child home. The reality, foster mothers in the UAE say, is far more complex.

“There was a time I thought I'd knock on a door, see children, and choose one,” said Wadha Al Marri, manager of the newly launched Foster Families Society and mother of three.“I had no idea I would wait years.”

Al Marri first applied to foster in 2013 after years of unsuccessful fertility treatments that took her across countries, including Thailand, South Korea, Germany, Britain, the US and Jordan.

Stay up to date with the latest news. Follow KT on WhatsApp Channels

Her desire to foster, she says, began long before marriage.“I used to tell myself when I was still in school that if I ever became a mother, I wanted to raise a child who needed a family,” she said.

But what she imagined would be a straightforward process turned into a six-year journey of paperwork, home assessments, psychological evaluations, medical screenings, interviews and waiting lists.

“I thought I'd walk in wearing my pink goggles, knock on a door, and maybe 20 children would be there, and I'd choose one,” she recalled with a laugh.“I didn't know I would spend years waiting for a phone call.”

That call finally came in 2019.“There's a child waiting for you.” Her first foster son, Theyab, was eight months old when he joined the family. Two years later came Ghaith; then, after 26 years of marriage, came an unexpected pregnancy through IVF and her biological son, Ali.

Today, the three boys are inseparable.“One came from my womb,” Al Marri said.“The others came from my heart.”

More than paperwork

Foster mothers in the UAE say the challenges do not end once a child comes home. Some told Khaleej Times they received little or no medical history for children placed in their care, forcing them to start from scratch with health screenings, specialist assessments and developmental evaluations.

“One child may come to you with no medical file, like a black box,” Al Marri said.“You have to build everything yourself.” She said some families spend hundreds of dirhams per session on speech therapy, behavioural support and psychological care. Even naming her sons became an emotional battle.

Al Marri said she wanted to name her first foster son Theyab, in honour of her late father, who had encouraged her to begin the fostering journey while he was in hospital.“My father told me, 'Wadha, start now,'” she recalled. Authorities eventually approved the name.

But naming her second son took nearly a year and a half of requests, appeals and paperwork.“In our family, there were already many Ahmeds,” she said.“I told them I didn't want people calling him 'Ahmed the orphan'. I wanted him to have his own identity.”

The child was eventually named Ghaith.“People think fostering means you simply welcome a child home,” she said.“They don't see the paperwork, the waiting, the fighting.”

'The moment they call you mama'

For Fatmah Al Muraikhi, secretary general of the newly licensed Foster Families Society association and a foster mother herself, the journey began when she fostered her son Saif at just four months old.

Unlike Al Marri, Al Muraikhi said she entered the process with little idea how completely it would reshape daily life.“The moment he came home, everything changed,” she said.“My sleep changed. My routine changed. My priorities changed. Suddenly every decision became about him, his feeding, his safety, his health, his happiness.”

She said one of the hardest adjustments was the constant sense of responsibility that came with caring for a child who had entered her life so unexpectedly.

“People sometimes ask if foster children feel different,” she said.“But from the moment a child enters your home, he becomes your child. You carry every responsibility – emotionally, mentally, and and financially – exactly as any mother would.”

Over time, she said, the most powerful moments became the quietest ones.“When Saif looks at me and says 'Mama', even now, I stop for a second and thank God,” she said.“That word changes everything.”

Like many foster mothers, she says one of the biggest responsibilities is what families call 'musaraha' – gradually and honestly helping children understand their story in age-appropriate ways.

“It's not one conversation,” she said.“It's a journey.” Foster parents begin preparing for those conversations almost from infancy, using storybooks, everyday moments and age-appropriate language to help children understand their beginnings without ever questioning where they belong.“It has to feel natural,” she explained.“Not like one big revelation.”

Al Marri said her own sons now fight over who gets to sleep closest to her.“They argue about who gets my shoulder, who gets my lap,” she said, laughing.“That's when you realise these are brothers in every sense.”

Changing the journey for others

The newly licensed Foster Families Society hopes to make that journey easier for future families. According to its organisational mandate, the society plans to offer support services, awareness programmes, research initiatives and partnerships aimed at strengthening foster care across the UAE.

For Al Marri, one goal matters most: making sure future parents begin the journey with realistic expectations – and support.“We want mothers to know where to go, who to ask, what papers they need, and what challenges may come.”

“This isn't choosing something from a supermarket,” she added;“this is your child.”

'Did not have to explain life': How UAE support group helps mums with autistic children Struggling with parenting stress? These UAE support groups offer help and guidance

MENAFN08052026000049011007ID1111088047