Many families along the Euphrates had already survived war, displacement and poverty. Then the river began to rise.
Within days, floodwaters engulfed farmland, knocked water stations out of service and forced families in Deir Ezzor and Raqqa to abandon their homes. Syrian authorities have said the country was experiencing an "exceptional" rise in water levels along the Euphrates River, which originates in Turkey and flows through the Raqqa and Deir Ezzor provinces before reaching neighbouring Iraq.
As water flow surged to around 1,800 cubic metres per second, the two governorates most closely tied to the river became the centre of a new humanitarian crisis.
For many families, it was another displacement they never expected to endure. Children uprooted At a temporary shelter centre in the countryside of Deir Ezzor, five-year-old Rama Al-Bakir sits beside her mother on a thin piece of foam, silently watching people come and go, her expression pale.
Her mother says her daughter has not been eating or sleeping well since they left their home, and that she wakes up almost every night, afraid that the water will reach them again.
The mother explains that leaving was not easy. Water had approached the surrounding land, and fears of a further rise in water levels pushed the family to leave quickly, abandoning most of their belongings.
Children who had grown accustomed to a certain way of life and playing near their homes suddenly found themselves in crowded communal rooms, temporary shelters or with relatives in areas farther from the river.
Some do not fully understand what happened, but they understand one thing: they are no longer in their homes.
A UNICEF report published at the beginning of this month stated that nearly 14,000 people had been displaced by the floods, including thousands of children, after water inundated affected areas and disrupted essential services, particularly water supplies.
The organisation warned that children face a series of simultaneous risks. In addition to the danger of drowning, there are waterborne diseases, limited access to clean water, and threats from explosive remnants of war scattered across large parts of the region. 'When will we go back home?' In the village of Huwayjat Kadrou, west of Raqqa, where water approached land and homes near the Euphrates, the first hours of the rising river level were not merely a passing event for Khaled Al-Sattouf but the beginning of long days of anxiety and anticipation.
Khaled describes how daylight hours turned into repeated attempts to move his children and whatever essential belongings he could carry in stages, fearing that the road leading to and from the village would become impassable.
He says every trip felt as if it might be the last. Therefore, each time, he tried to take what he thought was most important, but the list of necessary things kept growing.
He explains that the family did not leave because water had entered the house directly, but because of fears that water levels would continue to rise and because remaining in an area surrounded by water from several directions had become increasingly difficult.
Tension inside the home intensified with every new report suggesting that water levels could rise further.
He says the most difficult part was not moving furniture, clothes or documents, but answering his children's repeated questions each time he carried belongings to a safer place.
"They kept asking the same question: 'When will we go back?'" He had no clear answer.
Khaled's children had become accustomed to a simple life connected to the river, the fields and playing near their home. Suddenly, they found themselves elsewhere, living with relatives alongside a large number of people. Maher, his youngest son, who is nine years old, says the hardest thing was not only leaving the house but also leaving behind his toys and his small bicycle.
Life in his relatives' home is different. There is no space to play, and he misses his room and the friends who lived nearby.
He adds that he becomes frightened whenever adults talk about rising water levels because he believes it means they may have to continue their displacement or move again. Damage and response Despite widespread images of flooding and rising waters, the Ministry of Emergency and Disaster Management says the river has not, so far, exceeded its natural course and that most areas affected by higher water levels were agricultural land adjacent to the river and river islands, as well as informal and unauthorised residential buildings.
The ministry told The New Arab that the greatest damage was concentrated in agricultural land and water stations.
Four shelter centres were opened in Deir Ezzor and have received around 127 families, or approximately 621 people, according to the latest figures.
Conditions did not require opening additional shelter centres in Raqqa, except for relocating one affected informal camp to another location.
The ministry also said claims of a wave of drownings linked to rising water levels are inaccurate. It noted that more than 10 children drowned while swimming during this period, while warnings against swimming in the river continue – warnings that the White Helmets have repeated for many years.
The ministry further pointed to a national plan addressing explosive remnants of war, including risk-awareness campaigns, surveying and clearance operations, given the continued presence of contaminated areas that pose risks to everyone, especially children. Beyond the floodwaters Affected residents, however, argue that describing the losses merely as damage in informal or unauthorised areas does not reflect the full picture.
Several said that living near the river was not always a choice but rather the result of years of displacement, poverty, and dwindling housing options.
Murad Abu Bakr, a relief worker, says debate over how affected areas are classified does not change the reality that families have lost sources of income or been forced to leave their homes.
For children, he says, the priority is not whether homes are formally authorised but whether there is a safe, stable place to sleep and to return to daily life.
Even though displacement remains limited compared with previous disasters experienced in the region, its impact on children remains significant.
Life changes completely inside shelter centres. Some children sleep in crowded spaces, others have lost their usual privacy, and some are experiencing displacement for the second or third time after years of war and displacement.
Response teams from the Syrian Ministry of Emergency told The New Arab that the most urgent needs centred on food, blankets, mattresses, hygiene supplies and drinking water.
This was particularly important after around 75 water stations went out of service or were temporarily shut down following the dismantling of equipment to protect it from damage.
UNICEF says it is working with partners to restore water services by repairing damaged components and rebuilding the earthen embankment at the Euphrates drinking water treatment station, to ensure that safe water reaches around 400,000 people.
For children, the response also includes psychosocial support, awareness activities on water-related risks and campaigns to prevent waterborne diseases.
For many families, the crisis appears more complicated than a temporary rise in water levels.
Families dependent on agriculture have lost part of their income, while children who spent years enduring war and displacement now face another disruption, even if temporary.
Many affected families did not move to shelter centres but instead sought refuge with relatives.
Among them is the family of Maha Al-Abdullah, a mother of five children who sought refuge in a small house in a town in the Deir Ezzor countryside.
Two families now live in just two rooms, and the children sleep side by side on the floor or take turns using sleeping spaces.
"My husband's brother took us in after staying near the land adjacent to the river became increasingly difficult. The problem is no longer just leaving home. It is trying to adapt inside a cramped place that cannot accommodate this number of people," Maha tells The New Arab. " The children have stopped playing as they used to; daily movement in and out of the house creates constant tension, and privacy has almost completely disappeared for everyone here."
This type of invisible displacement often does not appear in shelter-centre statistics, yet it places significant pressure on host families, especially amid limited resources and growing needs.
Between an official narrative emphasising limited damage and testimonies from families describing days of anxiety, movement, loss of stability and loss of livelihoods, the greatest gap appears to lie in how loss itself is measured.
Is it measured by the number of flooded homes and submerged fields, or by the number of children suddenly forced to change their way of life? Hadia Al Mansour is a freelance journalist from Syria who has written for Asharq Al-Awsat , Al-Monitor , SyriaUntold , and Rising for Freedom Magazine