My name is Amal. I’m a mother of two beautiful boys — Osama (8) and Taj (7) — and I’m days away from giving birth to our third child. What should be a moment of joy has become a terrifying countdown in a place where bombs fall more often than blessings.

We live in Gaza — a land stripped of safety, mercy, and the basic elements of life. Our home, once a peaceful villa built from years of family savings, now stands in ruins. The windows, doors, and even the soul of the house were shattered by relentless shelling on neighbors homes but till that time it was still standing and protecting us. What was once a sanctuary is now a lifeless wreck.

Since October 7th, our lives have unraveled. We woke to the thunder of explosions and the choking fumes of white phosphorus internationally prohibited. My children screamed in terror. Taj clung to me in silence, his eyes wide with fear. That night, I watched the innocence of childhood vanish.

We cook using open flames — there’s no gas. The smoke and heat have caused serious skin conditions. There’s no clean water, no electricity, no healthcare. We’ve spent countless nights in our basement, once a storage room, which become later to be our only refuge. We lived in suffocating humidity, cut off from sunlight, until the day our house was hit directly and destroyed over our heads.

In that day, my husband was visiting neighbors to console them after they lost a brother and son in a brutal attack. While he was there, he saw our home collapse under a missile strike. He screamed, “My children! My wife!” We survived by divine mercy, injured but alive.

The day when our home destroyed, we will never forget that day as long as we live. We saw death with our own eyes and continued to struggle until we were able to get out after hours of suffering. we’ve been displaced 13 times. Each time, we fled with nothing but hope. Now, we’re ordered to evacuate again — from North Gaza to the South — but we have no money, no transportation, and nowhere to go.

We currently live in a cramped apartment shared with four other families. There’s no privacy. My children go to sleep hungry, watching others eat what little they have. My husband searches daily for food, often returning empty-handed. Flour costs $30 per kilo. Meat is $180. Aid is rare, and when it comes, it’s stolen or sold at prices no one can afford, We had not previously thought of participating in taking food directly from aid trucks, even though it is the only way to obtain free food, but we consider this a theft of the rights and food of the innocent, the hungry, and the weak people.

Osama and Taj haven’t been to school in three years. They are bright, curious, and full of potential — but war has stolen their future. Their only dream now is to wake up without injury.

And I — I am about to bring a child into this world. But there is no hospital. No warmth. No diapers. No blanket. I suffer from chronic fatigue and pain. I need prenatal nutrition and medication, but everything is either unavailable or unaffordable. I fear my baby will be born into war, not lullabies.

We never begged before. But now, we have nothing left.

We urgently need your help to:
- Escape the danger in northern Gaza and reach the south
- Secure shelter or even a warm tent for our children and newborn
- Buy clothes, food, and hygiene supplies for the baby
- Cover travel coordination and fees, which now exceed $50,000
- Start a small project to rebuild our lives and provide income for our family

Even $10 can make a difference. It may seem small, but to us, it’s hope. It’s warmth. It’s survival.

Please help us welcome our baby into safety — not into war.

*With love and hope,
Amal – Gaza*