I never imagined that my greatest wish would be to be alive with my husband and children

I am Nahid Nofal, married and have two children.

Before October 7, I had a happy little house in Gaza full of my children’s toys and small clothes, full of our pictures and happy memories that disappeared with the occupation’s destruction of this house.

We fled to what the occupation claimed was a safe area in Khan Yunis, where there was no electricity or internet, and we struggled to get water and milk for the children.

Suddenly, while we were sleeping, the house adjacent to the place of our displacement was bombed, and fragments and stones fell on us, and we found ourselves crying out for help from under the rubble and begging people to save us.

It was very dark, and the smoke from the fires prevented us from breathing, and the collapsed wall above my body prevented me from moving. I was holding my little boy, Jad, and blood was bleeding from my forehead. My husband had thrown his body on our infant, Jude, to protect him, and he suffered an injury to his foot that prevented him from moving.

We could not get out, even our voices did not help us scream, as we were unable to breathe because of the smoke from the fires

Jad had fallen from my hand without making a sound, and the darkness prevented me from inspecting him, but the stickiness of the blood that was pouring from his head onto my hand terrified me, and I feared that his injury would be serious.

I was trembling in fear of losing one of them, and I hoped that the ambulance men would quickly get us out so that my heart could be reassured about them, as we remained under the rubble for several hours until they were able to rescue us.

The darkness faded along with the lights of the ambulance, and I saw the eyes of my child, Jude, bulging without blinking because of the horror he saw. He is only a child no more than a year and a half old.

The ambulances took off, carrying us apart, and I arrived at the hospital running with bloody feet, looking for Jad, asking people about a four-year-old child wearing a green jacket. I was opening the curtains of the emergency room one by one until I heard someone calling me (is this child his mother?)

Jad was with a compassionate doctor who was treating his head injury, carrying him and examining him as if he were one of his children. He was telling him, “Don’t be afraid, my love, stay with me.”

We spent the night in the hospital due to our injuries, then we moved to another displacement site in the Nuseirat camp, looking for some safety until we recovered from our injuries.

I used to work as a teacher for children, and I was accustomed to the ink stains spread on my shirt. I did not imagine that the school in which I worked would be destroyed and this shirt would be filled with blood stains.

My husband used to work as a merchant and would come home in the evening carrying sweets and toys for our children

His workplace was destroyed, and we have now been without work, no source of livelihood, and no safe place since October 7th.

We now do not have answers to Jad’s questions when he asks us about his kindergarten in Gaza, his teacher, his friends, and his room full of toys.

Jad and Jude, who grow up in the war, have the right to receive health care, a safe place, psychological entertainment, and healthy food.

I hope that you will help us survive the war so that we can provide them with their needs and move them to a safe place to live in a safer country so that they can obtain all their rights.

We thank you for your support and help.