My name is Doaa Nashwan, and for over 700 days I have lived through this war in Gaza. I never imagined my life would become one of constant displacement, hunger, and fear for survival. Every day has been a struggle to find safety, food, and hope for my family.

My husband was gravely injured—his leg and arm torn apart in the chaos. He was trapped inside El-Shifa hospital for two weeks, left without proper medical care or even food. When he finally received surgery, it was without anesthesia—this is the kind of horror we endure here. I have carried the burden of caring for him and our three children, Zahed (15), Abdalrahman (13), and Joury (8), while living under the constant sound of explosions and the pain of hunger.

The children used to dream of going to school and living a normal life, but here in Gaza, those dreams have turned into something impossible.

Our once-peaceful home was destroyed by bombings. We fled from one shelter to another, only to have each refuge shattered by more airstrikes.

And after…

Earlier this year, we received news that changed everything. Canada was helping evacuate families from Gaza, and my husband and children were given permission to leave. My name was not on the list. I made the most painful decision of my life: to send my children to safety, while I stayed behind. I remember their tears and cries, not wanting to leave me, and I told them, “Go, live. Be safe. I will survive here for you.”

Now, my children are in Ottawa, Canada, starting a new life away from war. But their struggle did not end with their escape—now they carry the deep pain of being separated from me. After everything they endured in Gaza, they are now suffering the heartbreak of growing up without their mother by their side. An interview was made with my children in Canada, where they spoke about how difficult it is to be apart from me. Their voices carry the weight of loss, and every word reminds me of how much we all need to be reunited.

I am still here, living in a tent beside the ruins of our home, carrying the weight of separation and the endless struggle of survival. I dream of reuniting with my children, of being their mother not just from afar, but in their daily lives again.

Your support means more than survival—it means a chance for me to heal, to reunite with my children, and to give them the love and stability every child deserves.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V28q1E8mnC8

https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/ottawa/her-husband-and-kids-were-given-safe-passage-to-canada-she-s-living-in-a-tent-in-gaza-1.7528431