My Name is Linda: Preparing for Motherhood in a Time of War

I am not in my own home where I am usually based in Erbil, in the Kursdistan Region of Iraq (KRI), and I don’t know if the place where I am staying will be safe if I suddenly go into labor.

 As I have moved to Hamdaniya, Nineveh temporarily, since the start of the US-Israel attacks on Iran in February 2026. 

This war has now escalated in the region and sadly I don’t think I will be able to return home anytime soon. I also don’t have the clothes and things I had been preparing for myself and my coming baby. 

I used to live on the seventeenth floor of a building near the U.S. Consulate in Erbil. From my windows, I could see the bombings in the sky.  

But even here in Hamdaniya , we are surrounded by armed factions and the sound of shelling, and the situation has only increased my fear and anxiety. 

If I try to describe my feelings, my experience is very different from that of a woman who already has children. A second-time mother knows how to care for a newborn and what to expect.  

But for me, this is my first pregnancy. My thoughts used to be about how I would care for my baby when he was born, how he would grow up, and how I would balance my work and motherhood. 

But now my anxiety has doubled. I keep asking myself: how will I keep him in a safe environment? How will I provide a quiet place for him, far from noise and fear? 

This should be the time when I prepare myself mentally, physically, and emotionally for childbirth. But I haven’t found the space to prepare for any of that. 

Physically, I am exhausted. The emergency conditions have brought immense pressure at work, in addition to my responsibilities at home.  

Last night was especially terrible. I was in Erbil, as I thought the situation might calm down a bit.  

Usually, when we hear distant sounds, we prepare ourselves mentally, expecting that something might happen. But last night the bombardment was sudden, violent, and very close.

For the first time in my life, I felt real pain in my full body from fear. I could see the drones with my own eyes, and the air defenses intercepting them and exploding right in front of me. 

Yet, I know I must be calm in front of the participants we work with in Iraq. 

I feel a deep sense of responsibility toward the women who are enrolled in our 12-month Stronger Women Stronger Nations program. As a team, we cannot risk gathering participants at the centers under such dangerous conditions. But we also do not want to distance ourselves from them, because they need support now more than ever. Every day we make quick decisions, trying to balance safety while continuing to be present for them. 

In Hamdaniya especially, many women are deeply affected by the period when ISIS was present. Many of them were displaced during that time. I was one of them, too. Because of those experiences, there is still a high level of anxiety and tension among the women. 

What gave me relief was hearing the participants say they were determined to continue coming to the center and attending the sessions. They said it helps keep their minds occupied and reduces their stress. Being together gives them strength. 

In those moments, I truly see the meaning of what we try to build through our program: a safe and supportive environment for women. Even during war, the center becomes a place where women can gather, share their fears, and support each other. 

When we hear these words from the participants, we as a team also feel supported.  

After everything we went through during the ISIS period and the difficult years we lived through in Iraq, the Kurdistan Region had become a safe place for us. We rebuilt our lives there. But now even that place feels like a place of war. 

I hope that when I finally hold my child for the first time, the sky above us will be quiet again. I want the first sounds he hears in this world to be voices of love, not war.