Gaza's Unseen Heartache: How the Conflict Continues to Take Its Mothers

Each year, Mother's Day arrives with an outpouring of joy and gratitude across the United States, Canada, and many other nations. It’s a day marked by vibrant flowers, thoughtful gifts, and cherished moments as families celebrate the maternal figures in their lives. Mothers don their finest attire, basking in the love and appreciation of their children. Indeed, the universal celebration of motherhood, often on varying dates, speaks to its profound significance worldwide.

Yet, there exists a stark contrast to this global sentiment, a place where Mother's Day brings not celebration, but an intensified ache of loss and fear. In Gaza, where a devastating conflict has claimed the lives of over 22,000 women in a mere two and a half years, this special day often becomes a painful reminder of insurmountable grief. For countless children, it echoes the intolerable void left by mothers taken too soon, or the quiet agony of those gravely ill.

A Personal Anguish Amidst Collective Suffering

My own mother, Najat, at just 46 years old, embodies this harrowing reality. Her battle with late-diagnosed cancer casts a long shadow over our lives. This year, on March 21st, when the Arab world honored its mothers, I couldn't utter the customary "Happy Mother's Day." Instead, my silent prayers were for more time, for her continued presence with us. Thoughts of celebration were replaced by a crushing fear of impending loss.

On that solemn day, my mother did not adorn herself in festive clothes, nor did she join us for a joyful meal. Frail and weary, she was a testament to the brutal toll of her illness. A week prior, her third round of chemotherapy had left her bedridden, barely able to speak or move. Words felt inadequate to convey the depth of my love, so I remained silent, holding back tears to spare her further pain as others rejoiced.

The Unseen Toll: Maternal Health Crisis in Gaza

My mother's plight is, tragically, not unique. The ongoing crisis has unleashed immense suffering upon Gaza’s mothers, a pain that often begins at the very threshold of motherhood. Maternal death rates during childbirth have surged threefold amidst the conflict. A recent report grimly documented 220 Palestinian women succumbing during childbirth between January and June 2025 alone.

The devastating famine has disproportionately affected pregnant and breastfeeding women, jeopardizing both their lives and those of their children. Mothers have endured the unbearable agony of watching 70,000 children waste away due to malnutrition, with over 150 compelled to bury their little ones who succumbed to starvation.The genocide is still taking Gaza’s mothersin countless agonizing ways.

Beyond direct casualties, more than 22,000 women are now widows, forced to shoulder the excruciating burden of being both mother and father, navigating survival amidst an unimaginable crisis. Many others, though not widowed, are primary caregivers for wounded children or elderly family members. The constant ache of losing children in Israeli attacks haunts countless mothers, with over 21,000 children among the conflict's victims.

Daily life itself has become an immense struggle. The absence of running water, electricity, and reliable access to food compounds the hardship. Living in tents, offering no refuge from scorching heat, freezing cold, disease, or pests, is an intolerable existence. The collective grief for lost loved ones, coupled with these relentless burdens, pushes even the most resilient mothers of Gaza to their breaking point.

Healthcare Collapse: A Deliberate Obstruction of Care

It's no surprise that so many mothers are falling gravely ill. Yet, the situation is further compounded by a deliberate obstruction of essential medical treatment. The Israeli army has systematically targeted and destroyed hospitals across Gaza, including the region's only specialized oncological hospital. This destruction means that cancer and chronic illness patients are not only deprived of proper treatment, but the vital regular checkups that could detect diseases in their early stages are now impossible.

Doctors informed my mother that her cancer had likely been progressing for nearly two years. Early detection could have dramatically eased her treatment journey and significantly improved her prognosis. The lack of functioning healthcare infrastructure is a direct contributor to the rising mortality among Gazan women.

A Daughter's Burden, A Mother's Unseen Grief

These are, without exaggeration, the darkest days of my life. I am torn between the profound fear for my mother and the pressing need to summon strength to fill her role at home. Witnessing her diminish daily, little by little, is a heartbreak that echoes within me.

As the eldest daughter, the entire responsibility for our household has fallen upon my shoulders. My mother once managed everything with effortless grace, as if life simply unfolded. Stepping into her shoes, I now realize the immense, exhausting labor she carried. I strive to shield my three-year-old sister, reassuring her with forced smiles that Mama is happy and well, that her hair will grow back long and beautiful. On every chemotherapy day, when she asks, "Where did Mama go?" I take a deep breath, steeling myself before answering that she's at the doctor. The simplicity of her question belies the agonizing reality it exposes.

My days are a relentless cycle of cooking, cleaning, and caring for everyone. Even when the work is done, my mind refuses to rest, barraging me with incessant questions: "Will she recover? Will she return to us as she was? Will these heavy days ever pass?" Every possibility weighs heavily on my heart, an exhausting mental burden. This is not a fleeting crisis; this is my mother, battling cancer, amidst the ongoing devastation in Gaza.

We now anxiously await the scheduling of her full mastectomy. Doctors have also prescribed radiation therapy, a treatment currently unavailable in Gaza. A medical referral for her evacuation has been issued, yet its approval remains agonizingly slow, a bottleneck in a system that deliberately hinders the passage of some 20,000 Palestinians desperately needing urgent medical care outside the territory.The genocide is still taking Gaza’s mothersby denying them critical access to life-saving treatment.

Periodically, my mother gazes at the referral paper confirming her urgent need to travel, sighing deeply with a sorrow that words cannot capture. I cannot discern what weighs heaviest on her heart: her illness, the impending mastectomy, her changing appearance, or the cruel restrictions at the Rafah crossing. I am almost certain her spirit cannot bear all this, and her mind may one day collapse under the sheer weight of this pain. Her suffering – and that of so many other Gazan mothers – transcends mere statistics. It is an unseen, untold agony, just as the architects of this devastation intended.