He was born on March 19, 2023, two years after my husband Mohammed and I got married. Conceiving was not easy, and we are so blessed to have Lia. From the first days of her life as a newborn, I thought about providing Laya with everything she would want, from her clothes to her toys and then experimenting with recipes for food that would nourish her. I stuck to breastfeeding for 6 months before starting raw food, as she grew and her relaxation gadget developed, Lia was less able to take advantage of my milk.
As a running mom, I would be away from Laya for about 8 hours. In the nearest pictures, I’ll go home to spend time with my daughter.
The fighting began approximately on 7 October. I had survived one battle, then another, but this time I was a mother whose caution and careful planning were about to be severely tested.
Virtually immediately, Israel opposed access to food, water, gas, and electrical energy into the Gaza Strip.
Provisions began to expire, and costs increased.
Mohammed and I are nervous about Lia. How will we get grains and supplies, nappies and other basic necessities to our child?
We collected supplies and a few boxes of baby cereal, although I was worried whether they would be enough or whether we would be able to find extra. I was plagued with anxiety. Laya was growing, and her craving for food was increasing the most.
We needed to quickly present a difficult choice. To make her meals last as long as possible, I reduced Lia’s meals from 3 to 2 servings of cereal, while also reducing her ingredients from 3 to about one – minus the fuel, electricity, and spare water. Was stopping me from doing it. And storing it safely – as I continued to breastfeed.
‘Dear girl, I have no choice’
Even before the war, access to the shield, the empty water, was limited to only 4 percent of Gaza’s households.
Within the first days of the continuing conflict, aqua became increasingly scarce.
By November, we had to ration the water shared between 31 crowd members, including my in-laws, and an alternative displaced crowd seeking safe shelter in our rented building in Gaza Town. Each person was able to take a maximum of about half a liter of water (a quart) to maintain our supply.
We adults understood why we felt thirsty, but we had a hard time explaining to the kids why they couldn’t drink aqua at that moment.
I also knew the situation was probably going to get worse, so I set aside a few bottles of aqua for Lia.
By December, the Israeli army announced plans to establish a military operation in our branch, the al-Draj neighborhood, forcing us to flee to western Gaza where my people’s territory once was.
His home was once near the al-Shifa sanatorium and he had been alone since an Israeli attack on the clinical facility in November. However, in our desperation, it was best for us to find safe shelter.
We left al-Draj and traveled on foot across the city with the small provisions we had prepared for the inevitable month after our escape. One time it was cold, and I was wearing a heat jacket as I held Lia tightly in my palms and closed the door of our rental, hoping to take back a gift.
Our “refuge” – a branch that was once the main target for Israel because of the outbreak of the war – was once evacuated. The entire area around Al-Shifa was destroyed. At one time there was disagreement over water, electricity or internet.
We could not find any water worth drinking for three days. I used my situation book – aqua bottles I had collected.
I ration out a little of what was two liters (2 quarts) for Lia, who is now almost 9 months old, to organize her baby components and cereal and her drinking.
In desperation, my husband, our relatives and I drank unsafe salt water cleverly procured from a neighbour.
When we managed to get access to drinking water, we did not waste it in cooking – we used salt water for this.
At one time flour was scarce and did not exist in unused form. We once had a meal that consisted of beans or rice, and it was never enough to feel full.
Because the crowd of displaced people seeking safe shelter with us was large, our rations dwindled as we shared what we had.
Cereal for children was once scarce, and I bought whatever I could from the few pharmacies I owned and rationed what they offered. However, sooner or later, I couldn’t feed Lia cereal more than once.
The baby’s portion was also hard to come by, and I was unable to bring it for Lia whenever she was hungry. Drinking aqua was unusual, and I had to reserve it for the most important moments.
Gradually my body started losing its ability to produce enough milk for Laya, who screamed from hunger, then I breastfed her. I wanted to explain to her that this was not a decision, that I was hungry, that I wanted to feed her until she was full.
Soon, I was forced to feed Laya the food we used to eat – rice or soup cooked with water. Every time I fed him, I felt pain and guilt, I was afraid of every piece I put in his mouth and what it would do to his body. I whispered to her: “Dear girl, I have no choice. Dear girl, stay healthy.”
bread and rice
In February, after four months of war, we returned to our area in al-Draj, and shielded drinking water became slightly available.
However baby cereals and ingredients and unused fruits and vegetables were nowhere to be found. In mid-April, Israel finally restricted access to flour, meat, canned food, and most importantly some types of unused food items in northern Gaza.
This situation was once short-lived. At this moment, a piece of unused land seems like a dream, and hunger is once again threatening every Palestinian in northern Gaza.
According to UNICEF, nearly 90 percent of children in Gaza do not get enough food to grow, while 31 percent of children under the age of 2 in northern Gaza suffer from severe malnutrition. Some isolated UN professionals have warned that famine has now spread across Gaza.
On TV and social media, I collect first-hand images of children in Gaza turning to bones, their tiny bodies shrinking.
When I breastfeed Lia, who has a habit of putting two palms in my mouth during each feeding every year, I take one look at her and ask myself, “Would the same thing happen to her?”
In other places, people happily save their young children from eating bananas and mangoes for the first opportunity or clumsily bite into a slice of cucumber. Lya doesn’t know anything about those tastes.
Recently, one of the vegetables present in the markets of northern Gaza is pumpkin, which costs about 40 Israeli shekels ($10.89) per kilogram (about 2 pounds).
It’s expensive and I don’t know where it comes from, although I have to shop for it because otherwise Lia’s number one diet might be bread and rice.
‘stay strong’
What Lia and I have continued for 9 months is what thousands of mothers in Gaza have continued as we struggle with hunger and malnutrition for our children.
I continue to breastfeed Laya, refusing to give up, confident that I am still protecting her from the onslaught of malnutrition. I will be able to give him all the nutrients present in my body. Each extremely one.
I whisper into her cozy hair: “Please take what you can, my love.”
However, recently, I have started feeling extreme physical exhaustion and weakness, which forced me to think about what I didn’t want to do – stop breastfeeding Lia.
This dilemma comes with a distinct feeling of misfortune that many mothers experience.
I intend to inform Lia: “I’m trying my best to keep you healthy. I’m trying my best.”
Every night I journey into relief with the aim of redeeming the then present Lia. But, after waking up, I realized that there are no alternative options for that.
Every night when I hold Lia in my arms, as she feeds and looks at me, I think about the burden of those months. I murmur to her, promising that the next day we’ll be able to find the energy to endure all the other gifts. I tell her stories about an age gone by, a place where she would taste the beauty of untapped fruits and feel sheltered in our home. “Take my precious one,” I informed her. “stay strong.”
Discover more from news2source
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
