There is, after all, alot to be happy for. I just forget sometimes until I'll read something beautiful that makes me sob. Or I'll remember to peel myself out of bed and I can walk down the sidewalk until the buildings become something I want to put in my mouth. In April there are dropped petals along the curb. In April the warmth is coming soon. I'll try to remember away the rot for next time.
i donât think people understand how much of life is grief. not just people dying, but losing the version of yourself you thought youâd become. grieving the city you had to leave. the friends you lost not in argument, but in silence. the summer that will never come back. the feeling that maybe you peaked at 12 when you were reading books under the covers and believing in forever
đ¸ From One Motherâs Heart â Please Read đ¸
My name is Saja. Iâm a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow â from her first smile to her first steps â surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.
But life had other plans.
War has returned to our home. Again.
And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.
There was a moment â a fragile, breathless moment â when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark â hiding, holding on, praying.
Iâm writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.
Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.
This is my life.
This is my daughterâs life.
And even now â especially now â I believe in softness. I believe in kindness.
Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.
Why Iâm Reaching Out
Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.
Thatâs why I keep going.
Iâve launched a campaign to ask for help â not because itâs easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.
How You Can Help:
đ¤ Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity
đ¤ Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources
đ¤ Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war
đ If you can, please support our journey here:
My name is Saja. I am a wife, a mother to a precious 8-month-old girl, and I am writing this in a moment that I wish I didnât have to live t
If you canât give, please consider sharing.
Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.
From My Heart to Yours
Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe youâve never lived through war.
But if youâve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them â then you understand more than you know.
I donât want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.
Please, if youâve read this far â thank you.
Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring.
We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like itâs a lifeline.
having depression makes your friends seem like the coolest most put together people on earth like wow... you got out of bed, had breakfast, went to work, AND spent some time on a hobby when you got home....? that's so impressive you're like superman or something. can i borrow your power.
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