A Haur-Eskola That Became Home: How Community and Care Wove My Family’s Story

From Isolation to Belonging—A Young Mother’s Journey in Ategorritxo

When my first son, Sustrai, was born, I was told again and again: “He’s too young to go to nursery.” He was just five months old. But I had no choice. My entire family lived in Italy, my partner was away all day, and we had no local support—nor the financial means to hire help. Maternity leave was ending, and our family income depended on my return to work.

I still remember that first day I rang the doorbell at Ategorritxo, the neighborhood’s public haur-eskola. I didn’t know it then, but this place would become so much more than a childcare center. It would become a safe haven—for both my sons and for me.

First Glances Matter When You’re Far From Home

As a newcomer to the Basque Country, everything felt foreign. But on that first visit, the warmth in the caregiver’s voice and gaze made something shift inside me. I felt seen. And that feeling—of being welcomed, not judged—is something I still carry with me.

Luckily, Sustrai was admitted. Later, my second son, Inar, joined him. Day by day, Ategorritxo became more than just a place where my children were cared for—it became a place we belonged to.

A Space of Care—for Children and Parents Alike

Each morning, I would breastfeed my sons one last time before “handing them over.” And each morning, the classroom welcomed us both.

That little room, that gela, was filled with much more than toys and tiny chairs. It was where I could come in tired, share my sleepless nights, ask for advice, cry if needed, and laugh without filters. It was where I felt I wasn’t parenting alone.

In the afternoons, I often sat on the floor to breastfeed, chat with caregivers, or simply rest for a moment before heading home.

From Loneliness to a Local Tribe

Before Ategorritxo, I remember wandering through neighborhood parks feeling painfully alone, wishing I had one of my old friends by my side. But thanks to the haur-eskola, I met other parents—people I now saw at the bakery, at the playground, at birthday parties. Slowly, a support network formed. A tribe. And that made all the difference.

Because motherhood is beautiful, yes—but it can also be brutally hard. Especially when your family is far away and you’re still trying to make a new place feel like home.

A Place of Cultural Exchange and Growth

At Ategorritxo, I was never asked to leave my culture at the door. Instead, I felt valued with my Italian background. At the same time, I was gently introduced to Euskera and Basque traditions—songs, stories, and games that slowly became part of our daily life.

We spoke mostly Italian at home, but through the haur-eskola, my sons and I began to feel rooted in a new cultural soil, without needing to uproot the old one.

Empowered by Support in Life’s Tough Moments

When a work trip to Mexico came up and Sustrai was only 18 months old, I was torn. Guilt consumed me. But the educators—those women who had become anchors—supported me without judgment. They listened, encouraged, and helped make it work.

While I was away, the intern caregiver even took special care of Sustrai in the afternoons. I felt held—not just as a mother, but as a person with dreams and responsibilities.

A Shared Voice for Our Children’s Wellbeing

When the city council proposed removing the haur-eskola’s kitchen, we didn’t just accept it. Parents and educators stood together, advocating for what we believed our children deserved. Because Ategorritxo wasn’t just about childcare—it was about co-creating an environment where children could thrive.

Closing the Circle: From Mother to Educator

In 2023, while studying to become an Early Childhood Education Technician, I returned to Ategorritxo—not as a mother this time, but as an intern. Walking through the familiar halls, I saw things through a new lens.

I watched the educators—the same ones who had nurtured my sons—with admiration. I learned from them. And I imagined my little boys as they once were: playing, learning, napping in these very rooms.

I recognized myself in the eyes of the mothers dropping off their children. I wanted to offer them the same kindness I had received.

We Weave Community Together

A haur-eskola can be many things: a place of care, a place of learning. But above all, it can be a place of welcome—where threads of connection are woven between children, parents, and caregivers.

At Ategorritxo, it was the warmth, humor, and deep commitment of the educators that turned a public institution into something more: a community. A family. A home away from home.