Pregnant in a War Zone: My Journey of Love, Fear, and Survival

We are pleased to welcome Tahani as Anera's new communications officer in Gaza. She wrote this piece last month, prior to joining Anera, and has since given birth to a healthy baby boy.

I am nine months pregnant, in Gaza, under the relentless strain of Israeli warfare. Every morning, I rise with the weight of both the life growing inside me and the fear that has become a constant companion. I am carrying more than just my child - I carry hopes and dreams of a future where my family can live in peace.

Gaza is not an easy place to live. And for me, it's become even harder as my belly swells with the weight of my unborn child. My husband, Nourdine, works as a news editor. His income is barely enough to keep us afloat. And so, despite my growing discomfort, I've had to continue working, determined to help him bear the cost of living and prepare for the arrival of our child.

I work as a content creator. The pay is low, the hours long, and each day feels like a battle. My back aches constantly, and there are times when I'm so tired I can barely stand. But the thought of our child pushes me forward. Every stitch I make, every moment I push through exhaustion, is for him. I dream of a life where he will not have to worry about surviving each day as we do.

Life in Gaza is a daily struggle, a balancing act between the violence outside and the responsibilities we bear at home. Just this morning, the sound of airstrikes rattled the walls of our rented room as I prepared to leave for work. Fear settled deep in my chest, but I had no choice. If I stayed home, there would be no money for food, no savings for the birth of our child.

I worry every day about my baby's future. But even more pressing is the fear of giving birth under these conditions. The healthcare system here is collapsing under the weight of the war. Hospitals are overwhelmed with the injured, and there are hardly any resources for expectant mothers. What if the roads are blocked when I go into labor? What if there's no hospital bed for me? These thoughts haunt me at night, when the drones circle above and sleep is hard to find.

Every day is a struggle, but it is also a testament to my love for my family and my determination to give my child a life worth living. I don't know what the future holds for us, but I do know that I will keep fighting. I will keep working. I will keep dreaming. Because that's what mothers do - especially in Gaza.

And so, I continue to stitch hope into every fabric I touch, knowing that one day, my child will know a life where he can run free, where the skies are clear of drones, and where peace is more than just a dream.