SEOUL - Kim Myung Hee remembers the frustration of being unable to move her newborn foster child to a nearby hospital, simply because she was not his biological mother.
In an interview with Kyodo News, the 55-year-old said she felt quite "lucky" that the child was then diagnosed with Kawasaki disease, which causes blood vessel inflammation, and that another hospital was willing to get him transferred under an emergency certification by two doctors who saw the illness as urgent.
This may be a common problem for the non-relative and specialized foster families of the more than 1,300 children in South Korea, who have no parental authority over the children they care for, even though they live in the same house and act as full-time parents.
"I guess the government is trying to do something at least, but there still is a gap between the policies and reality," Kim said, as she tended to her foster baby crying inside a stroller.
Family-based foster care is recommended over institutional care, and South Korea has been advised by the United Nations to reduce the number of children in institutional care, according to Jung Sun Wook, a social welfare professor at Duksung Women's University.
Since the child protection system shifted to public management in October 2020, the rate of institutional care has declined, but 47.6 percent of kids newly placed in care in 2024 were still sent to facilities, according to a report by ChorogUsan, South Korea's child welfare organization.
"If foster care is to expand, government policy should focus on reducing the number of institutional care facilities," Jung said, adding that current policies seem directionless.
Kim believes policies supporting non-relative foster care remain inadequate. Only about 14.1 percent of some 9,300 children in need were under non-relative and specialized foster care, according to 2025 data from the Korean Statistical Information Service.
Behind Kim's decision to do foster parenting lie the years she spent with her family in Tokyo about 20 years ago.
She first became close to an elderly Japanese couple who lived next door, when they helped her then five-year-old son get to the hospital after falling down some stairs.
"They lost their daughter when she was only ten, and I happened to be just one year younger than her...So for them, I was like a daughter, and my children were like their grandchildren, and therefore, cared for us a lot," Kim said.
The couple helped not just her family but also many others around them, including driving children with disabilities home from school.
She was also inspired by a Japanese friend, who said, "Housewives also need to leave work at 10 p.m. at the latest."
The comment separating household chores from one's identity left her thinking about how to reinvent herself, not as someone's wife or mother, and to look to do something that benefits society as a whole.
This year marks Kim's 10th year as a foster mother, and she is now fostering her fifth child, who was born into an abusive home. At first, she was reluctant to take him home, unsure whether she could give him appropriate care.
"But at the moment I heard that he would have no choice but to be sent to a facility if I refuse, I made my decision...I wanted him to feel how warm a home can be," Kim said.
But institutional barriers stemming from the lack of parental authority still stand in the way of foster parents like Kim.
ChorogUsan's 2026 report shows that 63 percent of the 640 surveyed foster families had trouble opening bank accounts or purchasing insurance for their foster children, while 50 percent had difficulties subscribing to phone services.
Financial problems remain serious, with non-relative foster parents spending an average of some 1.07 million won ($720) per month on child-rearing while receiving only about 660,000 won in government subsidies, according to the ChorogUsan report.
Jung said the central government has issued recommended subsidy levels for local governments to follow, but added that "not many municipalities are actually implementing the recommendations."
A new temporary guardianship system that took effect this year allows foster parents to exercise limited parental rights for up to one year, including consenting to medical procedures and handling school enrollment, rights that were previously impossible without a biological parent's signature.
Kim, however, said she has chosen not to apply for the temporary guardianship just yet, saving it for when she needs it most, to apply for a passport so she can take her foster child to visit her elderly Japanese neighbors.
"One year is far too short...If something comes up after that, I won't be able to do anything," she said.
Jung cautioned that while the system is a step forward, extending temporary measures alone is not the answer, arguing that what children truly need is permanency, either through reunification with biological families, adoption, or their foster parents obtaining full legal guardianship.
"Without that, from the child's perspective, they are still in a legally unstable position where the person raising them has no formal standing," Jung said.
Asked why she continues despite the hurdles, Kim said the children fill a void she did not know she had.
"I realized that I'm alive, and that I'm someone who is needed," she said.
