playing a video game whilst listening to an audiobook is the closest my modern soul will get to dilly-dallying around by the castle grounds whilst the medieval storyteller is reading a fairytale out loud
A mother's plea: Help us survive and protect my child who was born in war.
My name is Sahar. Like any young woman, I dreamed of a stable and happy life. I was engaged to Mohammad, and together, we dreamed of building a warm little home where we could start our life. We spent years preparing our house, but just before our wedding, everything was destroyed in an instant by the war.
I was faced with a choice: to leave Mohammad in the midst of this chaos or to stand by him and begin our journey together, no matter how difficult it might be. I chose him. We got married, not in the dream wedding I had envisioned, but under the harsh reality of war. Our new home became a fragile tent, offering neither comfort nor security.
After we got married, I received the news that I was pregnant with my daughter, and I live in constant fear for my unborn child. I am terrified of the world she will be born into—a world of poverty, hunger, and bitter cold. We have been displaced from our home more than nine times, carrying with us nothing but the burden of loss and the hope of survival. The house we dreamed of is now rubble, and the tent we live in barely protects us from the rain and cold.How will I protect my daughter? We struggle to find enough food. Basic necessities like milk, blankets, and clothing feel impossibly out of reach. The cost of survival has become unbearable. Every night, I am haunted by the thought: how can I bring her into this world, knowing I cannot keep her safe?
After a long pregnancy filled with pain and fear, after nights without sleep, I finally gave birth to my baby girl. She was born in the middle of bombing, surrounded by destruction and poverty—not in a warm room, not in a safe place. Her first cry mixed with the sound of explosions, as if she was announcing her arrival into a cruel world she never chose.
I gave birth to her with nothing but my heart. I cannot promise her anything. Poverty surrounds us from every side, and the cold reaches her tiny body before night even comes. My baby and I are suffering deeply, not because we ask for much, but because I am unable to provide her with the most basic needs: milk, warmth, and safety.
When I look into her eyes, I feel strength. When I look at my empty hands, I break down in tears. I am a mother trying to save her child from hunger and fear, in a world that has shown no mercy even to the dreams of children.😢🥹
To donate or support us, here is the link 👇🙏
Help Sahar and Mohammed Build a Safe Home for Their Baby
Sa… Jordan Brusso needs your support for Help Sahar and Mohammed Build a Safe H
From the depths of my heart, thank you for your kindness and compassion🥹❤️🙏
Nader has spent the last eighteen years of his life in the Gaza strip. He has witnesses war after war, famine, fear, and death. His little cousin is now a toddler and has known nothing but terror herself.
If you'd like to help my friend Nader and his family afford food, medical, and housing costs please consider contributing to Nader's fundraiser, or reblogging! Thank you so much.
I have nothing... no medicine, no oxygen, no money, not even a safe place to sit and cry.
I am a mother from Gaza. From the south. From a land that has known nothing but bombing, death, and dust
From a neighborhood once inhabited by children playing... and now buried under rubble.Everything is destroyed. Everything is burned. Nothing remains. Even my voice is no longer audible
My only child is in my arms now...He doesn't move. He doesn't speak. He doesn't scream. He breathes slowly, as if every breath is a miracle.His face is yellow...
His eyes are closed... His body is weak and cold as death.I feel him slipping away from me... moment by moment.And I can't save him.I just cry... I call his name... and I hold him tightly as if I'm fighting fate.
He was sick... severe pneumonia.I took him to the hospital, where they said his condition was critical.There weren't enough machines.
The doctors were exhausted, working without electricity, without medicine, without anything.But we held on to hope... despite the pain. Despite the cold. Despite the collapse of life around us.Then camethe occupation.
The army stormed the city.
The shelling began on us from every side.They bombed the hospitals. They bombed the streets. Even the places we thought were safe.I screamed as I ran with my baby in my arms.The doctors shouted, "Get out! Get out! The place is going to be bombed!"I saw children having their breathing tubes ripped out of their mouths, patients thrown into the streets, and mothers collapsing.I saw a nurse crying as she tried to save a child... then she too fell to the ground.I left the hospital, not knowing where to go.Bombs falling.
Corpses in the streets. Blood on the walls.Everything was silent... except my heart, which was about to explode with terror. I walked for a long time carrying my child...I was screaming, "Is anyone there? Is there a doctor? Is there oxygen?"But no one answered.All the doors were closed.All the faces were shocked.
And death awaited us around every corner.Now, my child is dying.With every passing minute... he suffocates more With every second... he dies more.And I... hold his little hand... and say, "Be patient, my love...
Forgive me, forgive me, I couldn't protect you."
They told me there was only one chance... to transfer him outside Gaza for treatment, and I would have to pay the exorbitant costs.
But how ? No money
I don't even have a blanket to cover him.
My home is destroyed. My family is under the rubble. No food. No water. No life.All I have left is this child... and these last moments with him
Please....😭😭💔
Help me
Before I close his eyes with my hand.Before I place him in a shroud that's too small for his tiny body. Before I bury him alone, under a tree or among the rubble...
My name is Casimir, and I am organizing this fundraiser on behalf of Ahmed H… Casimir Reynolds needs your support for Help Ahmed Hammad Prov
Help me... before I bury the last beat of my heart.
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