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Cover image: Iman al-Shambari and her family inside their tent in the Gaza Strip – Photo by Abla ‘Alami
Abla ‘Alami
Sarah, a young mother, did not choose to give birth to her first child in a tent without electricity or water, warplanes roaring above and bombs crashing all around. She had dreamed of a warm delivery room, a hand holding hers, and the embrace she would give to her newborn baby. But instead, she found herself crossing the sandy streets of the camp, moving between medical facilities in search of temporary safety.
As the war on Gaza rages on, childbirth has been stripped of its human meaning. Dozens of women have given birth in catastrophic conditions, some in tents, others in ambulances or in clinics lacking sterilization equipment and medication. And yet the pain doesn’t end with the birth of a child. From the first moment after birth, a new struggle begins: how can a mother breastfeed her child when she has nothing to satisfy her own hunger?
Bodies without milk
Breastfeeding mothers are suffering from severe malnutrition. The food available is barely enough to subsist on, so how could it produce milk?
Meat, eggs, and milk are completely absent, and vegetables are scarce. Mothers survive on canned food and legumes, and sometimes they have nothing to eat at all. As mothers’ health deteriorates, their milk dries up faster than its disappearance from the market. Umm Muhammad, the mother of a two-month-old infant, says, “I drink water and mint all day. I don’t eat anything. How can my body produce milk for me to breastfeed? Sometimes I cry with my baby, because he is hungry, and I’m helpless.”
Mothers use formula as a last resort, but it is expensive and often only available on the black market. The price of a single container could feed a family for days. And that’s if clean water is even available to prepare it with, or if fuel is available to boil water and sterilize bottles. Many children suffer from diarrhea and malnutrition, and some have died because their mothers were unable to breastfeed and could not afford an alternative.
A testimony from the darkness of health centers
At Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital in Deir al-Balah, the nurse Nuha Sweidan, who has been working nonstop since the beginning of the war, is trying to save whatever can be saved. Her voice weary, she says, “Mothers arrive in a state of collapse. Some haven’t eaten in two days, and those who give birth are unable to breastfeed. Their milk doesn’t come because their bodies are exhausted and hungry. We’ve tried to help them with painkillers or simple nutrients, but even these aren't always available.”
Nuha adds, “The most difficult moment I’ve ever experienced was seeing a ten-day-old baby die in my arms because her mother couldn’t breastfeed her and we couldn’t find any formula. Even the hospitals don’t have it in stock. Therapeutic milk has been missing for months, and all doctors can tell us is to do what we can.”
The nurse, accustomed to dealing with pain, admits that she cries every night before bed, not only from exhaustion but also from helplessness. “We’re not just losing children. We’re gradually losing our humanity.”
Just like Nuha, Dr. Sanaa Abu Libdeh faces the same challenge, but multiplied. She works in the medical sector and is also pregnant herself. She says, “Women in Gaza, especially those who are pregnant and breastfeeding, suffer from severe malnutrition. This affects the quality of breast milk and deprives it of its nutritional value. Children suffer from hunger and immune deficiency, and mothers become emaciated and exhausted due to the lack of food and vitamins—be it because of their high prices or unavailability.”
Sanaa continues, bitterly, “As a pregnant woman, I try to compensate my body with simple foods, but the calcium deficiency is evident. My muscle cramps and fatigue have increased. I work long hours, and the psychological pressure is massive. I go home after 24-hour shifts to find no water, electricity, or food, but I try to endure it all because I have no other choice. I have to be strong for myself and my family.”
According to the Palestinian Ministry of Health, more than 300 infants have died since the beginning of the war due to dehydration and malnutrition, most of them newborns. More than 12,000 cases of severe malnutrition have been recorded among children, with hospitals and medical centers unable to provide therapeutic milk or essential nutritional supplements.
The World Health Organization confirms that more than 90% of pregnant and breastfeeding women in Gaza suffer from severe malnutrition, which directly affects their ability to breastfeed. The lack of formula threatens the lives of more than 8,500 infants who are completely dependent on it.
Motherhood rife with guilt
Huda, a mother of three, the youngest of whom was born during the war, says, “My son cries from hunger, and I have no food or milk. I feel guilty every second. It’s like I gave birth to a child in a world that doesn’t deserve life.”
Huda’s words encapsulate the pain of many mothers. These women aren't seeking luxury but the bare necessities of life: a meal to sustain their bodies, a drop of milk to save their babies.
In a shelter, Rana gave birth to her sixth child by dim candlelight, amid the stares of dozens of other women in the same room. There was no privacy, no means of disinfection, not even a nurse to help her. Only an elderly woman stood by her side, with a tattered towel to wrap her newborn in.
Rana says, “I couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. There was so much noise, the bombing was all around. I didn’t hear him cry when he was born.”
“I couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. There was so much noise, the bombing was all around. I didn’t hear him cry when he was born.”
Pregnant women: Silent heroes
In an official statement, the spokesperson for the Ministry of Health in Gaza asserted, “We are facing a silent health disaster, and children are paying the heaviest price. The lack of food, the absence of milk, and the deterioration of maternal health have led to an alarming rise in infant mortality. The situation is spiralling out of control under the blockade and the ban on the entry of aid.”
Women who gave birth during this war are silent heroes. They persevered, bled, gave birth, and raised their children in an environment of hunger and fear. Their stories are not numbers to line the pages of reports. They are cries of life calling out to the world: don’t leave our mothers to face the bombing and hunger alone. Don’t let our children die of hunger before they even glimpse a sign of life.
