I can’t remember how old I was when I knew about it, but it was roughly between the first and third years of primary school. My mother told me that we are not your real mother and father. Your father's name is such-and-such, and your mother’s name is such-and-such, and they died in an accident. Since that moment, my heart was racing and felt like I am drowned in a sea of thoughts. I kept asking myself the real question, which was: If they died in an accident, how did I stay alive? I was shocked to my very core. The shock was brutal and difficult. I don’t remember how many days I cried before sleep because it must have been years and I am not exaggerating if I said this because I could not imagine that I could lose my mother and my father who I am with now. The issue has affected me psychologically, physically and socially, and I feel that at this time I have become silent and do not talk much, and I have not been able to form relationships with those around me. I also stopped eating and threw away food. I barely ate and I wasn't even hungry. These are things I noticed when I grew up a little, but when I was young, I didn't understand why or I wasn't even interested in understanding why. All I could think about was, "We get punished when we do something wrong. Surely I'm a bad person, so this happened to me." And sometimes I feel that I seriously don't deserve anything. I don't deserve what they do to me. I don't deserve their love because as I said, I'm a monster. I wasn’t much popular because of my appearance, my weight, and my way of doing things. There are many things that made me unable to determine whether my childhood was good or not. My problem is that they never helped me with this matter. I don’t know if they thought that this was normal or that I would forget or what the truth was. I don’t know. I wanted them to tell me the whole truth and I would have accepted it as I accepted what they said before because I certainly had no other choice, but at least I needed someone to tell me the truth. This may be difficult, but it is not my fault, and I am not as bad as I thought, and there are many people like me. What I denounced the most is that every time I come to ask what exactly happened, they yelled at me for asking. For them, my questions mean for that they are not enough. I just want to know, and this is my right to know. I live in the hope that I will meet them when I die, and I will meet my mother in heaven, and I keep imagining what we would look like when we meet, and that thought and dream comfort me because at the moment when this happens, I will not be afraid again. I will not be sad again. I will not lose anyone else. If I decided to tell them that now, they will be upset. I just want them to understand that just as any father and mother love their children with the same love as each other, I can also love two families with the same amount of love, and that they both represent many things to me, because in the end, this is what made me the person I am now. If I go for kafala of a real child, I would feel that I am the happiest person in the world, because I am sure that I would give him all the love that I have. I am sure that I will read books or learn what is the right way for him to be raised well so that he can become a good person. He won’t feel inferior in any way, and of course he has complete freedom to miss his biological family, and I will respect that very much, and I will be happy to answer all his questions and discuss them and make him understand that his being like this does not mean anything other than that he is a special person to me, and that my love for him is unconditional. I love him because he is the person he is, regardless of anything else. This will surely make him love himself, and this will give him confidence not only in himself but in those around him as well. I know that the whole matter will be a traumatic experience at first but I will take him to a psychological counselor if I felt that he has dark thoughts. The most important thing for me is that he is able to share all his feelings about anything freely and without fear or such. Kafala in general is a beautiful thing, but it also has negative effects, and any child, no matter how big he is, deserves to know his truth, love it, accept it, and feel love from those around him. Also, the name of the author of the story was changed based on her desire.

” I used to collect Omar’s toys and the Ramadan lantern that I bought, and I would imagine him sitting and playing with it. I would break my fast alone, tears falling down my face, imagining that he was next to me” I started thinking of kafala when I was young, and when I grew up a little, I volunteered in a nursing home, and this experience made me know more about what’s happening in orphanages, how children think of their lives and circumstances. When I grew older, got married, and separated childless, the loneliness increased. That’s until I saw a post for a kafala mother whose circumstances were completely similar to mine, until she sponsored a child just like my own. Within two days, I submitted all my papers, and in the same month I submitted it, my son was born. The journey was difficult and took a long time, but despite everything, it worked, thanks to God. My file was rejected more than once on the pretext that I chose in my application to have a child and I am the mother of a single child, and some people found it inappropriate, but I insisted on my choice to the point that when my file was approved, it got approved for a girl. I went and submitted a request to the ministry to change the sex of the child from a girl toa boy, and it was approved for me, thanks to God. I saw my son in another governorate, and we set a date for him to come home to me, but I was tired of Corona. The date was postponed several times because of my illness & then Ramadan till the Eid. I finally got Omar on my birthday, but when I woke up, I felt severe pain in my stomach, and it was a long way to travel, and the pain increased that we had to postpone again for the third time. I finally received Omar and my friend took him off because I was still very tired. As soon as we arrived safely, I was very thankful, and my friend supported me and lifted me up so I could rest on the bed; it was like I gave birth to him and returned home with the same exact pain and feeling. It was a long day, but the house was filled with joy and the sound of a baby crying. Finally, I became a mother, thank God. “I knew it was difficult to find someone to have kafala of him because he is 4 years old and most people choose infants.” I am Laila Fathi, I work as a pharmacist. I was married and left behind two daughters, and the eldest was in medical school, but unfortunately my marriage was ended. God compensated me with my current husband, he understood me and encouraged me, and I asked him to help me ensure that I achieve my dream. The first time I heard about kafala was when I saw the story of Rasha Makki and her son Mustafa. I communicated with her and she answered my questions and encouraged me to take this step. I couldn’t believe it when I told her that I have my son Omar. I chose to have Omar despite the difficulty of the situation. From the first sight, my heart was attached to him and I knew that he my son, Omar, is one of the missing children and spent a year and a half on the street. This means that he was abandoned either because of an inheritance or was kidnapped and thrown away. This reminded me of the hard circumstances that I had been through in my life, and I felt that he was like me. I knew Omar long time ago. I used to go and see children at the orphanage. I would check on them, get them gifts, and play with them. The first time I saw him, I felt that he was radiant with light, and he resembles me and my children. He had a loud laugh that stole my heart. Many people used to say, “No, he can’t be an orphan. His mother could come back at any time and demand him,” but my thoughts that he is alone and he needs our help and God will reward us for our goodness. On one side, there were those who accepted the idea and encouraged me, such as my sister and my uncle, who embraced me and many of my colleagues at work who supported me in my decision. On the other side, there were those who rejected it and were against it and said that it was enough to visit him at the orphanage, but I was determined to get him to my home because I saw that he needed a home, safety, good education, and people to take care of him. His life also changed. He entered kindergarten and now he loves swimming. I cannot forget his joy and the sparkle in his eye when he saw the sea of Alexandria. The big streets are a strange thing to him, and he is not used to them yet. He doesn't tell me about his difficult life at the orphanage. He doesn't want to go back there again, and he is happy with his new family. Omar is God's compensation for me. He compensated me for everything that happened in my life. May God not take him away from me.

I will talk about the first time I got married and discovered that my husband and I had a problem with having children. Of course, we suffered a lot from people’s words and their looks. We had enough of people’s talk like “Work to keep yourself occupied” or “Did you find any treatment? Poor you” or “When will you have children?!” I will never be able to forget the words of my mother-in-law on my third wedding anniversary when she told us that she has been waiting for three years already to have a grandchild. This till one day I knew about kafala and I didn’t know that this is an available option in Egypt. When I asked people about this topic, they told me that there is no such thing as adoption, which is forbidden! But if you were to do kafala, you would only support financially and visit them. I was close to despair and began to really think about divorce. At least I would remain single and no one would think why she had no children. Until I came across a video on YouTube of a Kuwaiti family who had their son, and I was surprised that in There is something called kafala. I started searching social media about kafala until I found that there is actually something called kafala that exists in Egypt. I started reading the stories of kafala mothers and found myself with more than one mother, and we became very close friends. They talked to me a lot about their sons and daughters. They were honest with me about their feelings, how noble and sincere they were, and they really made me change my mind completely. At first, I wanted kafala to get rid of people talks and save my marriage, but they helped me to be convinced that sponsorship is not like that, and when I decide to do kafala, I will because I really liked the idea of kafala. I liked the idea that you save a child who is alone without a home, a mother, or a father. I liked the idea that kafala is a guaranteed door to heaven, and the kafala mother and father are the prophet’s neighbors in heaven. I liked the idea that I shouldn’t care about what people say. I will do kafala so that my son or daughter can live with me and be blessed by their presence. And I actually spoke to my husband. We have begun the procedures. First, we were afraid because the matter involved insurance, accounts, and government papers, but every step we took went smoothly. We spent two months completing the procedures, and the awaited moment came. I will not lie to you. I wish it was a girl, and I even chose her name and arranged the room for her with drawings and colors of pink and so on. We went to the Orman House, and we spoke to the director of the house, who shocked us that there were no girls for kafala now, only boys. My husband’s reaction wasn’t positive. It seemed like he didn’t like that there are no girls for kafala. I acted like I am not affected by his reaction, and I returned to the director. And I told her that I wanted to see the children. Frankly, she very much welcomed my decision, and in my husband’s eyes there were the words that I could not say: “Didn’t we agree that we would have a girl?” We entered the room, and the mothers in the house began to bring the children, and my heart beat very fast at seeing those beloved angels. Seven children, each of them one of them is four months old. I was sad by the thought that these children are left out. I felt that I wanted to hug them and tell them that I love you and will not abandon you, but then I came back to reality and found that unfortunately the law and my ability only allow me to sponsor one child. All this while I completely forgot about my husband, so when I looked for him, I found him sitting on a chair carrying one of the children. I was surprised. My husband was crying while holding this baby. I barely see my husband cry. I went to him, stroked him, and told him, “How do you feel?” He felt the same as me. He thought of how much he loved all these children and was sad that he would not be able to help them all. Then he wiped away his tears and kissed the boy and returned him to the mother who was carrying him, and thanked the director of the orphanage and said, “I wanted to do kafala for a girl. I am sorry”. The director was a very respectable woman who appreciated our decision. She gave us the address of another branch of the house. She had information that it had 3 girls from which we could choose our daughter. We thanked her and went to the second branch. Despite the feelings of sadness that we felt at the house, we were very excited, because we felt that we were very close to picking up our daughter. We entered the house and spoke to the director and we explained the situation to her, and we went out to see the girls. Three beautiful girls were three months, four months, and six months old. We loved them very much and took them away and tried to create a bond of feelings with each one of them, but despite my intense love for them, I did not feel that I was a mother to any of them. I began to doubt myself. My friends told me that as soon as I held the child, I would feel that she was my daughter. I started to get nervous and looked at my husband, who understood me right away, and I found him saying to me: “We will not take a child who we do not feel is our daughter. We can go to another house”. The director caught up on the matter and asked us to see the boys. We told her, “We want a girl.” I found that she responded with such a smile, and asked us again to see the boys. We agreed with her, just out of desperation on our part. They started bringing the boys. Two beautiful boys, but I still don’t feel anything towards any of them. I started to cry, so my husband took my hand and asked the director if those are all the children they have or not. She said yes. He said, “Okay, we are sorry that we have bothered you.” While he was still walking, we found one of the mothers coming out with a blanket wrapped around her arm, and no baby parts could be seen from it, no hand, no leg, no head. The blanket seemed to be empty, and I found her saying, “Come on and see who was hiding in the bed,” and she brought it to me. I put the blanket in my arms, unfolded it and looked to find the sweetest thing I have ever seen in my entire life. My son, the first thing I said when I saw him. His features were not visible because of how much he was tiny. I was so happy that I unconsciously started showing my love for the baby. My husband kept thanking God and he was extremely happy that we finally found our son. Hamza was very young. He was 7 days old, and we had to wait until he was three months old so we could take him (the old kafala laws). Three months went by like three years. I visited him every day, and I cried every time I had to leave him. I bought him tiny clothes, and I started a milk production course with a lactation doctor so that I could breastfeed him. We told our family and kept taking pictures of him. My mobile phone was filled with pictures and videos of Hamza. Until the big day came, the day I get to have Hamza. I prepared his clothes, then I breastfed him. Finally, you will be with me, Hamza. I won’t have my heart ache again on leaving you on every visit. I can see you all the time and take you in my arms. May God bless you, my beloved son.