Gazas

Deir el-Balah, Gaza – For years, Nuha Abu Lebda dreamed of becoming a mother. But Israel’s genocidal war on Gaza has turned that dream into loss, time and time again.

As she was forcibly displaced several times across the Gaza Strip since the war began in October 2023, Abu Lebda lost three pregnancies. She says the losses came after months of air strikes, hunger, fear and living without proper medical care.

“I miscarried because of the air strikes, the displacement, the difficult conditions, the lack of clean water and malnutrition,” she tells Al Jazeera.

After each miscarriage, she hoped she could still become a mother.

“When I lost my baby, I was exhausted. I woke up hoping my baby was still inside me. But the dream I carried for 10 years was gone.”

Abu Lebda sold her gold and almost everything she owned to pay for injections of heparin, a drug prescribed to some women to prevent blood clotting during pregnancy. She hoped the treatment would help her bring her pregnancies to term, but she lost the babies despite it.

“I cried so much because I lost the baby I dreamed of every single day,” she laments.

Even after the fighting slowed, her dream remained the same. “I dream of bringing a baby into this world. I want to be a mother and have children. Every time I see my husband playing with children, I start crying.”

Medical officials in Gaza say they are treating a surge in miscarriages, which they link directly to Israel’s genocidal war and blockade. The trend has worsened as Gaza’s health system has collapsed under bombardments and Israeli ground operations with malnutrition and psychological strain cited as key drivers.

Dr Yasser Saadeddine, the maternity director at al-Awda Hospital in Deir el-Balah in central Gaza, told Al Jazeera roughly 70 percent of pregnancy losses his team treats are linked to the war and blockade.

‘I lost my daughter during childbirth’

Abu Lebda is one of many women in Gaza who say they have lost pregnancies during the war. They describe miscarriages, premature births and losing newborns while trying to survive bombardments, displacement, hunger and the collapsing healthcare system.

Mai Zaqout tells Al Jazeera she lost her daughter because she could not access the medical care she needed.

“I lost my daughter during childbirth. She had already died inside my womb for a month, but I could not deliver her because the medical resources and support I needed were not available,” she says.

Her loss came shortly after another tragedy. “All of this happened within a very short time after my husband was killed.”

For Sara al-Awad, she had a scare when she was eight months pregnant. She says powerful explosions in Tal al-Hawa, a neighbourhood in Gaza City, caused extreme fear and stress, leading to severe bleeding.

“Because of the fear, anxiety and the power of the explosions, I started bleeding. My placenta had separated.”

Al-Awad says no ambulance could reach her, and she waited for hours before her brother took her to al-Quds Hospital in a wheelchair. “The doctors decided I needed an emergency C-section immediately.”

Her baby, Muhammad, was born weighing only 1.1kg (2.4lb) and was placed in an incubator. But as fighting continued around the hospital, Sara and her family were separated from him.

“My brother had to leave for the south while Muhammad stayed alone in the incubator. We could only check on him through messages from the medical staff,” she says.

After more than a month, al-Awad was finally reunited with her baby. “Thank God, the ceasefire came. … Muhammad left the incubator after 37 days.”

‘I witnessed horrific situations’

Across Gaza, other women have similar stories.

For Iman Badah, the loss was of the child she had waited years for.

“I am a mother who lost my only son. I waited six years to have him. I gave birth prematurely while I was being displaced,” she tells Al Jazeera.

Nuha Salameh was carrying twins during the war. “Fear and trauma caused me to lose them.”

She says doctors told her that, before the war, her babies may have survived.

“The doctor told me that if the situation had been normal, we would have placed them in the incubator, and they would have lived.”

Nidaa Seyam says she experienced her second miscarriage during the war. “I lost a baby girl, and this is the second time I have miscarried.”

She says doctors told her the war conditions affected her pregnancy. “They told me it was because of the psychological stress we are living through and malnutrition.”

She also describes surviving intense bombardment.

“I witnessed horrific situations where I was trapped under air strikes. I inhaled a lot of toxic fumes.”

‘War, blockade, malnutrition, displacement’

Palestinian doctors say these stories are becoming more common.

They report more miscarriages and pregnancy complications linked to hunger, stress, displacement and the lack of medical care.

At al-Awda Hospital, doctors say they have seen a major increase in pregnancy losses.

“During the war, there was a significant increase in miscarriage cases we received,” Saadeddine says.

He says the causes include “the war and the blockade, including malnutrition, poor hygiene, environmental contamination and continuous displacement”.

Doctors say miscarriages are only one part of the crisis. They are also seeing more babies dying in the womb, more premature deliveries and more dangerous pregnancy complications.

Many women lost their homes, medical records and access to regular check-ups during repeated displacements. Hospitals are also struggling with shortages of medicines, equipment and medical staff.

For many mothers, the war has left wounds that continue to hurt even after most of the fighting has stopped. For women in Gaza, the war has not ended with October’s “ceasefire”. It continues with every pregnancy lost, and every dream of motherhood left unfulfilled.

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Social media is full of posts showing off photos and videos of fancy-looking cafes and restaurants in Gaza. Pro-Israeli accounts often use these images to claim that life is back to normal in Gaza, that people are not suffering and that no genocide ever took place.

These cafes and restaurants do exist. I have seen them myself.

In late March, I went on my first visit to Gaza City since the war started. I was shocked to see the destruction wrought on the city. There were piles of rubble at every corner. Unable to recognise the streets, I felt as if I were strolling through a maze. I soon arrived at an area nearby that shocked me even more. It was full of new cafes that did not exist before the war.

These were not makeshift or temporary places as one might expect; they were built with expensive materials, carefully painted, furnished with tables, sofas, and elegant chairs, with glass facades and shining lights. A luxury feel emanated from them. They looked so out of place amid the rubble and the half-collapsed buildings that it felt almost surreal to see them.

These new establishments do not prove that normality is coming back to Gaza. They are a testament to its continuing genocidal abnormality.

The war made some people in Gaza rich, especially those who engaged in illicit activities like smuggling, looting, and hoarding during acute shortages. This wealth is now coming out in various forms, including luxury cafes and restaurants.

In parallel, the vast majority of Gaza’s population has been thrown into abject poverty. While before the war, the average person was able to afford to sit at a cafe and have a drink and a bite to eat, today this is no longer the case.

Most people cannot even look at these new places, let alone enter them and order something. The vast majority of Gaza’s population lives in tents, has no electricity or potable water, and suffers from the loss of livelihoods. They are surviving on what little aid Israel is allowing through.

I am one of them. My family and I live in a tent pitched near the rubble of our home in the Nuseirat camp. We have lost our family livelihood. The comfortable life we used to have is now just a distant memory.

The expensive new establishments reflect the deeply unjust social order that has emerged in Gaza – one where war profiteering has elevated a new privileged class and collapsed the vast majority into misery with no access to proper education, healthcare and even food. The genocide did not just kill and maim people and destroy homes and schools; it eliminated the prospect of a normal life for most people in Gaza.

I could not afford the fancy cafes, so I continued down the street till I reached a more modest restaurant, which used to go to with friends before the war. Entering it felt like stepping back in time to the days before the war; the place was the same, with the same chairs and tables, and the familiar smells that filled the space.

I sat and observed, dwelling on fond memories of spending time there after university lectures. I ordered what I used to order: a chicken wrap, a soda and a small salad plate. The bill was 60 shekels ($20) – more than three times what I would pay before the war, when my family actually had a normal income.

The restaurant bill, together with the fare I paid for a shared ride to get to Gaza City (15 shekels or $5 one way), cost me a fortune. I felt guilty spending all this money to enjoy a glimpse of normalcy.

The few who are fortunate enough to be able to afford going to cafes and restaurants in Gaza may enjoy short moments of relief, a temporary escape from the horrors of reality. Yet these moments are limited, often accompanied by anxiety about returning to the destroyed streets, the bombed-out landscape and the trauma.

As I sat at Al-Taboon, I thought of the friends with whom I used to spend time: Rama, who was martyred and Ranan, who escaped to Belgium. I sat there alone, holding on to these memories amid the greyness of Gaza’s rubble and the lights of the generator-powered cafés.

The genocide has devasted everyone – even those who have profiteered from it. No amount of time spent in shiny cafes and restaurants will ever erase this reality.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial stance.