On November 24, 2024, amid Israel’s ongoing genocide in Gaza, a nurse at al-Awda Hospital in the central Gaza Strip called me over from the hospital’s reception room to inform me that my wife had given birth to a wonderful baby boy. I was over the moon. We named him Omar.
My family and I were displaced from our home in al-Tuffah, a neighborhood east of Gaza City, and are currently living in a small room in my wife’s family home in the western part of Gaza City. Omar is now seven months old and at a stage where he’s beginning to explore and engage with the world around him. He shares the most magical smile with anyone who plays with him, lighting up the room with his joy. One of the most heartwarming moments for me is when he starts to babble, repeating sounds like “Pa Pa” or “Ma Ma.” It fills me with hope and love every single time.
Omar is growing rapidly, but because Israel imposed a total blockade on the impoverished enclave in March, Omar hasn’t been able to receive the nutrition he needs. Amid this man-made famine, people in Gaza are facing severe starvation conditions—including babies, for whom there is no baby formula.
Many mothers in Gaza cannot breastfeed, either because they are dead or because they are too malnourished, and the shortage of formula leaves many families with no way of meeting the specific dietary needs of an infant.
A few days ago, one desperate mother, who told my wife that her own baby hadn’t had any milk in two days, suggested what has become a grim trend across the besieged territory: “Boil lentils and feed him that in a bottle.” With no other options, my wife began grinding lentils into powder and then boiling the powder into a thin paste to feed Omar. It wasn’t ideal—or even safe, according to medical experts—but it was all we had. That’s when my wife remembered we still had a quarter bag of powdered milk for adults stored away. It wasn’t meant for infants, and we knew it wasn’t the healthiest option, but at that moment, it seemed like a better alternative than the lentils we were feeding our son. We mixed it carefully, hoping it would ease his hunger without causing him any harm.
Confronting starvation, I have realized that being a father in Gaza is harder than I thought it would be. My mind is constantly overwhelmed with so much fear and worry for Omar. How can I provide milk for my son? How can I provide the essential nutrition for his growth when the Gaza Health Ministry has declared a state of emergency, announcing that Gaza has officially run out of milk, leaving thousands of babies facing death?
As a father, I am shocked to my core, shattered by the reality that babies in Gaza are starving. How can the world allow the most innocent and fragile among us to suffer like this? I can not wrap my head around it.
An adult enduring hunger is painful enough to witness—but a baby cannot even understand what is happening to them and why. A baby just cries in confusion and in pain, their tiny body unable to fight back. No parent should ever have to watch their child waste away with nothing to give them.
Just last week, I had to sell the little food we did have left for my wife and I to buy a single bag of diapers for Omar. The diapers—a basic and essential item—cost one hundred dollars. I stood there, torn between feeding my family and keeping my baby clean and safe.
Like I would for any other baby in the world, all I want is to see my son grow up healthy, safe, and happy, free from hunger, illness, or fear. I only ask for the basics that every child deserves: food, warmth, and a chance at life.
No father should have to watch his baby suffer simply because his child was born during a time of war.
