Born in a small village in Lithuania, neglected by her mother and placed in an orphanage, Fatima Sarnicola’s life changed nearly 20 years ago when she and her sister were adopted by a couple from Italy. Choosing a new name for her new life, Fatima gradually emerged from the darkness of her childhood.
“Everything that happened felt like a film, but it was my life,” she tells LRT.lt, recalling the painful experiences of her early years. Today, thousands follow Fatima on social media, where she openly shares her story and campaigns for children growing up without parents.
A neglected childhood and learning to forgive
Fatima was born in Skačiai village in 1998. She grew up with her mother, though she and her siblings were often left alone at home. She never met her biological father, though she knows his name and that he once worked as a long-distance lorry driver and had Finnish ancestry.
“I tried to find him on social media, but I couldn’t,” she says.
She recalls her childhood home as a dark, neglected, and cold place.
“I remember the man who used to come to the house, and my mother’s screams when she suffered abuse. I also remember a neighbour who gave us milk. She had two daughters who would play with me,” Fatima recounts.
It was that neighbour who alerted child protection services about the situation at home, as the young children were often left alone. Fatima vividly remembers the moment the social workers took her from her mother’s house; her mother didn’t even look at her daughter, who was crying.
“In later years, I tried to understand why I had been left to fate. Over time, I realised my mother could not raise us as she might have wanted. I forgave her because, despite everything, she gave me two precious things: life and the chance to have a new family when she agreed to the adoption,” she says.
During all the years Fatima spent in the children's homes, her mother visited only once, bringing sweets and a doll.
“After that, I never saw her again, nor heard from her, even twenty years after the adoption. I’ve come to terms with it,” she adds.
Life in children’s homes
Before adoption, Fatima lived in several children’s homes, first with younger children, and later in Kuršėnai with older ones. She recalls her time there in vivid detail.
“I lived in a room with girls my age, then moved to live with older girls, including a pregnant teenager. We often ate cepelinai – a dish I love and which my Italian mother still prepares using a Lithuanian recipe.
I remember walking to school through forests in snow, drinking lots of milk, and being punished with wooden sticks or standing in corners for hours,” she says.
At school, she was often called a “waif” and made feel inferior.
“I remember the disappointment, for example, when I won a running race at school, but the prize went not to me, but to a girl who had a family. It was hard leaving school with no one waiting for me. I would return to the children’s home feeling sad and lonely. Everything that happened felt like a movie, yet this was my life,” she recalls.
A second chance in Italy
The birth of her younger sister, also abandoned, changed Fatima’s life. Fatima visited her sister as a baby and remembers holding her in her arms, but the two girls could not initially be together. They did not see each other until the Italian couple decided to adopt them both.
“She was placed on the urgent adoption list due to health problems, and my name was added alongside hers. Several families refused to adopt us together, but the Italian family was not afraid to open their home to both girls. My sister saved me. I was eight, and no one wanted to adopt me,” Fatima recalls.
Fatima’s first meeting with her adoptive Italian parents brought a flood of emotions – fear, warmth, and a sense of security she had never known. The couple visited Lithuania in August 2006 and returned for several months to bond with the girls.
“We had the chance to get to know each other and learn how to be a family. I immediately felt a strong emotional connection with them, and from that time I have so many happy memories – walking around Vilnius, enjoying delicious food, cuddles, presents, and lessons. My sister and I very quickly began calling them ‘mum’ and ‘dad’,” she recalls.
The Italian couple also gave Fatima her first birthday cake. She admits that until then she had never celebrated a birthday and, before being adopted, did not even know her exact age. The day she left the children’s home felt like a second birthday – the start of a life filled with love, security, and opportunity.
A new country, a new name
Moving to an unfamiliar country and into an unknown family was far from easy for the young girl from Lithuania. Though her new home offered warmth and the feeling of being wanted, these feelings were accompanied by fear, uncertainty, the challenge of learning Italian, and bullying at school.
“The bullying was harsh. My classmates often called me ‘the adopted girl,’ and I would return home feeling upset. I approached everything patiently and determinedly, trying to learn Italian quickly and focusing on the love from my parents. My home became a safe haven, and school eventually became a place where I made new friends,” Fatima recalls.
A new chapter in her life was marked by a new name, a choice Fatima says she made together with her family. The Lithuanian girl, who had grown up as Milvydė, became Fatima in Italy.
“My dad told me that many years ago he had a serious motorcycle accident, and in his trouser pocket was a picture of the Virgin Mary, Fatima. He promised that if he ever had a daughter, he would name her Fatima,” she explains.
Fatima occasionally wondered about her biological mother, but she has no knowledge of her current life. “I focus on the present and my Italian family, while keeping respect and curiosity for my roots,” she says.
Staying connected to Lithuania
Fatima has visited Lithuania several times with her sister and parents, returning to her birthplace, orphanages, and other childhood sites.
“I found Lithuania brighter than I remembered, perhaps because I carried light within me and felt strong, with such a family by my side. During our visits, they taught me not to hate Lithuania. Today, I am proud to be Lithuanian.
Returning forced me to face my past and present: the pain, the fear, but also pride in how far I’ve come. I felt I had made peace with my past and reconnected with my roots. My parents held my hand and cried with me. I am lucky they are my parents. They embraced not just me, but my story too,” Fatima reflects.
Two identities, one story
Fatima feels Italian in education, culture, and daily life, but her Lithuanian identity remains close to her heart. Moreover, her Lithuanian heritage serves as a symbol of inner strength for her.
“My connection to Lithuania is magical. Some memories are painful, others nostalgic. I still follow Lithuanian culture and news, and I plan to visit next year,” she says.
Her sister, adopted at two, feels more distant from her Lithuanian past.
“My sister always says she knows she is Lithuanian and adopted, but she feels as if she was born in Italy. She feels detached from what happened to her in Lithuania, and that experience does not trouble her,” she says.
Fatima also has several other brothers and sisters. She does not know the exact number, but is certain there are more than ten. She has managed to get in touch with some of them. Some, like her, were raised in loving families, while others were less fortunate and remained in children’s homes.
“One of my brothers told me I was very lucky,” Fatima recalls.
Becoming a voice for abandoned children
In Italy, Fatima became an advocate for children growing up without parents. She shares her story on social media, where she has over 100,000 followers, and runs the non-profit project Adoptlife.it, which promotes adoption and care.
“I share my story to give a voice to those who don’t have one. Sharing difficult, traumatic experiences helps me come to terms with my own past. It can also offer hope and courage to other children and adults who have gone through similar experiences,” she says.
Fatima has also spoken at the European Parliament, highlighting the weaknesses in systems meant to support families and children.
“It is a weak system, and many people end up leaving their children. This was my first experience of this kind, and I would like to continue working with the Parliament. I also want to establish connections with other institutions and am actively pursuing this,” Fatima notes.
Looking to the future, she hopes to be an activist in Lithuania and pursue a career in biology, focusing on cancer research.
According to Fatima, her life is proof to all children growing up without parents that the future can be bright.
“I want to tell them never to lose hope. Even in the hardest moments, it is possible to find love, care, and opportunities. Courage, determination, and self-belief can open doors that once seemed impossible to unlock,” Fatima insists.
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