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Hayaā¦
She was born in a moment that almost became her lastā¦ in the midst of death.
No lullaby, no calmā¦ only bombardment swallowing even her first cry.
Her mother wasnāt given the time to hold her the way she should, wasnāt given a moment to understand she had become a mother.
She was only told:
Get upā¦ and run!
So she did.
With a body that hadnāt caught its breath yet, and a heart she now carried in her arms, she ranā¦ from a room to a corridor, from a corridor into something unknown, far more terrifying.
That day, it wasnāt just a life that was born, she was born under bombardmentā¦ under sirens inside a hospitalā¦ amid panic, fear, and people running in every direction.
A life was born resisting death, face to face, with her very first breath.
And still, my dear Haya is aliveā¦ thank God.
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Today, I will share an article about the story of the day this beautiful little girl was born, in the middle of a military operation carried out inside a hospital in Nuseirat.
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