Snotty.

I’m writing this while my heart feels heavy with fear.

My mother has been struggling with a serious health condition for a long time. Her thyroid has become dangerously enlarged, and now it’s making it hard for her to breathe.

We went to the doctor hoping for a solution… but what we heard was devastating. She urgently needs proper treatment and surgery.

Every day, her condition worsens. I watch her fight for every breath, and I feel helpless seeing her like this.

I live in constant fear that one day I might lose her.

I don’t know what else to do… so I’m asking you, please, if you can help in any way, even a small contribution could make a difference.

Your support could help save her life.

it will be because the world saw and chose silence.

I am writing now while she is still breathing in my arms.

I count her breaths I fear every second that passes.

Time is collapsing on us, and donations are almost nonexistent.

Silence here is not neutral silence is killing her

Every ignored post steals a minute from her life.

Everyone who scrolls past without stopping leaves her closer to death.

I’m begging you—please pause for a moment.

Your donation is not just money

it is breath warmth a chance for her to live another day.

Please, don’t let neglect be the reason I lose her.

Don’t let tonight be her last.

Donate. Share. Save her now—before this plea turns into regret.

Are you even trying?

We are struggling with intense coughing and shortness of breath, and our condition is getting worse with every passing hour.

In Gaza, due to the war and the suffocating blockade, the healthcare system has nearly collapsed. There is no medicine available, and treatment is only possible in private hospitals—places we simply cannot afford.

As a father, nothing hurts more than watching your child struggle to breathe while you stand helpless, unable to provide even basic treatment. Fear fills our nights, and pain fills our days.

I am reaching out to you with a broken heart, asking for your humanity and compassion. Any support, no matter how small, can help us access urgent medical care and save my family from further suffering.

Please, if you are able, help us survive this illness.

Your kindness could be the reason my child breathes easier tomorrow.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #722 )✅️

Do not ignore this, Do not scroll past it. Your donation or your share could keep my mother alive. If you see this and choose silence, you are complicit in the death of a woman who could have been saved.

My name is Saja. I’m a wife, a mother, and a woman who once believed her story would be simple. I thought my days would be filled with watching my daughter grow — from her first smile to her first steps — surrounded by the small joys of everyday life.

But life had other plans.

War has returned to our home. Again. And once again, we find ourselves living under skies that never seem to rest.

There was a moment — a fragile, breathless moment — when the bombs paused and the world seemed to remember us. It gave us hope. We thought maybe, just maybe, we could start to rebuild. But now, we are back in the dark — hiding, holding on, praying.

I’m writing this not as someone seeking pity, but as a mother who has no other choice but to speak.

Imagine holding your baby in the middle of the night, not because she cried, but because the world outside roared too loud for either of you to sleep. Imagine whispering bedtime stories not to lull her into dreams, but to keep the fear from settling into her tiny bones.

This is my life.

This is my daughter’s life.

And even now — especially now — I believe in softness. I believe in kindness. Because when everything else is taken from you, hope becomes the most valuable thing you have.

Why I’m Reaching Out Our home has been damaged. Our lives changed. But through it all, my daughter wakes up every morning with a smile. She reaches for me with trust, with love, with faith that I will keep her safe.

That’s why I keep going.

I’ve launched a campaign to ask for help — not because it’s easy, but because silence is no longer an option. I am asking for support not just for me, but for my baby, and for the quiet strength of so many mothers like me who are fighting, every single day, to hold their families together.

How You Can Help: 🤍 Help us restore parts of our home so we can live with dignity 🤍 Support women and mothers in Gaza with access to care and resources 🤍 Keep the light of hope alive for a generation born in the shadows of war

💛 If you can, please support our journey here:

If you can’t give, please consider sharing. Your voice might be the reason someone else hears ours.

From My Heart to Yours Maybe our lives are worlds apart. Maybe you’ve never lived through war. But if you’ve ever held a child and wished the world could be better for them — then you understand more than you know.

I don’t want my daughter to grow up thinking the world turned away.

Please, if you’ve read this far — thank you. Thank you for seeing us. Thank you for caring. We are still here. Still hoping. Still holding on to every kind act like it’s a lifeline.

Today is the first day the border with Egypt has opened on a trial basis.

We do not know if it will remain open.

But for the first time since the war began, there is a fragile chance.

A chance to seek proper medical care for my father.

My father has been ill since the beginning of the war.

He has been living on painkillers while his condition worsened.

Doctors now say he urgently needs advanced medical tests

and surgery on the arteries leading to his brain.

If the border remains open, we may finally be able to find treatment outside Gaza.

If it closes again, this chance may disappear.

At the same time, my family and I still have no source of income.

We are struggling every day to afford food, water, electricity, and basic necessities.

Medical care, travel, and treatment bring additional costs we cannot manage alone.

This campaign is not about sympathy.

It is about timing.

It is about not missing the only window we may have to save my father’s life.

If you can donate, please do.

If you cannot, sharing this post helps more than you know.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for standing with us. 🇵🇸🤍

I am a woman from Palestine Gaza 🇵🇸.

I once had a modest but loving home with my husband, Mohammad, and our four children: Mahmoud, Somaya, Mostafa, and little Sila.

Our house was small, but it held our world — filled with warmth, laughter, and dreams.

Mohammad worked as a tailor, using his hands to stitch dignity into our days, providing just enough for us to live in peace.

But in a single, brutal moment… everything disappeared.

An airstrike hit our neighborhood.

Our home collapsed under the force of the explosion.😭💔

We escaped with nothing — not clothes, not memories, not even the toys my children cherished.

Mohammad’s tailor shop was demolished by Israeli bulldozers, leaving him without work, without tools, without hope.

Now, we live in a torn, fragile tent.

It doesn’t shield us from the cold.

It doesn’t protect my children from hunger or fear.

Rain seeps in. The nights are long and cruel. My children cry themselves to sleep.

I am a mother who cannot provide warmth, food, or safety.

I watch them suffer — I hear their tiny whispers asking when we’ll go home again… and I have no answers.

I am Alaa😓.

I don’t ask for much.

Just a chance to live with dignity again.

Just a moment of mercy.

If you hear me… if you feel my pain…

🌸Please help us🌸🙏.

Even the smallest act of kindness can bring light into our darkness.

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