Pregnant Mothers Face the Burden of Gaza’s Famine and Genocide

“Whenever my baby cries from pain or hunger, I cry with her."

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Joud Zourab and her husband feeding their twins Tawfiq and Naya in July 2025. (Photo: Amr Tabash)

GAZA CITY—Joud Zourab, a young woman in Gaza who spent nearly five years struggling with infertility, had been waiting with anticipation for the day of October 10, 2023. That was the date that she and her husband had secured a long-awaited appointment for an in vitro fertilization procedure (IVF) that they hoped would allow them to finally start their family.

The appointment never took place. The ensuing devastation from Israel’s retaliation against Hamas and the concurrent siege on Gaza meant permanent cancellation of her fertility treatment. Days into the war, the medical center where her treatment was scheduled was bombed. Remaining medical facilities inside Gaza—where elective treatments like IVF were expensive and time-consuming even before the war—would soon be overwhelmed with huge numbers of wounded and dying people.

Zourab and her husband were displaced from their home by the bombing. Yet, against all odds, four months after her IVF procedure had been scheduled, they managed to conceive naturally.

After a painful pregnancy in which she endured anemia, calcium deficiency, and other adverse health impacts caused by malnutrition, forced displacement, and exposure to the elements, Zourab gave birth to twins named Tawfiq and Naya in November 2024. Today, they are being raised in a tent in an area under displacement orders by the Israeli military, with even their short-term living conditions uncertain. Zourab describes her children as “everything beautiful in my life, my blessing from God.” But she cannot shake the guilt of raising them in such unsafe and unhealthy conditions—without medical care, without clean water, and often without food.

In a recent interview with Al Jazeera, Dr. Munir Alborsh, the director general of the Ministry of Health in Gaza, emphasized that beyond the physical devastation, Israel has launched a psychological war on pregnant women—whose number he estimates to be around 60,000 inside Gaza today. He explained that this strategy aims to instill fear among Gazans, while pushing them toward demographic collapse.

Zourab’s experience, alongside many other pregnant and nursing women inside Gaza, shows how pregnant women and the next generation of children have already been impacted by the violence, famine, and medical deprivation inflicted on the territory. In July, the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA), a UN agency focused on global reproductive and maternal health, decried what it called “catastrophic” conditions for pregnant women in the territory, noting that Gaza’s birthrate had plummeted 41 percent over the past three years.

That decline itself is a component of Israel’s genocide against the Palestinian population. While Israeli leaders have made frequent statements about the alleged demographic threat posed by newborn Palestinian children in territories under their occupation, the UN’s official definition of genocide states that “implementing measures to prevent births” is part of the calculated destruction of a people. An article published this week in the medical journal The Lancet noted that in addition to the 17,000 live births recorded by the Ministry of Health in Gaza in the first six months of 2025, 2,600 pregnancies ended in miscarriage, 220 resulted in intrauterine fetal deaths, and 21 newborns died within 24 hours of birth.

Highlighting the impact of widespread food shortages on pregnant mothers living through famine in Gaza, the article added that, “premature births, congenital malformations, and low birthweight have become commonplace, as pregnant mothers face malnutrition and repeated forced displacement.” In addition, Israeli military bombardment had forced the Palestinian population to, “coalesce into tent cities where water is scarce, sanitation rudimentary, and caloric intake insufficient,” further compounding health risks to those most vulnerable.

Zourab and her husband were forced to flee four times while she was pregnant, and three more times after she gave birth. After the twins were born, she had nothing to eat but lentil soup. The twins were born severely underweight—just 2.2 pounds and 3.3 pounds respectively. She struggled to keep them warm inside a fragile tent. Malnutrition robbed her of the ability to breastfeed. Her milk dried up. Her ordeal deepened: finding infant formula for two newborns became nearly impossible. With shortages and skyrocketing prices, the family’s desperation grew.

Before the genocide, Zourab worked as a photographer, and her husband ran a small barbershop. They lived a modest but stable life. Now, inflation and soaring prices have drained every bit of their savings. She says she received no institutional support throughout her pregnancy, or afterward. Border closures and aid restrictions left her entirely on her own. Today, her daughter has lost weight because the family cannot afford enough formula. A single can—now costing around $70—must be stretched over ten days. The babies are only given milk at night, while during the day, she feeds them lentils. But her daughter cannot tolerate lentils, which has worsened her malnutrition.

Diapers, once basic necessities, now cost about $150 per pack. The family does everything they can, but their children often suffer from diarrhea and fevers caused by poor nutrition and contaminated food. Raising two infants in a tent surrounded by bombing, chaos, and fear has left Zourab exhausted. Hygiene is almost impossible. She uses the same bar of soap for herself, her babies, their clothes, and everything else, as all other cleaning supplies have vanished. Her children crawl across the dirt, in an environment she cannot make safe.

Her voice trembles when she says: “I feel indescribable pain seeing them grow up like this. All I want is to give them a safe and clean life.”

Joud Zourab and her child in July 2025. (Photo: Amr Tabash)

“An Unbearable Weight”

Following a decision by the Israeli government to resume limited aid supplies to Gaza this May, Moshe Feiglin, an Israeli politician and former deputy speaker of the Knesset, denounced the move, specifically naming Palestinian children, including babies, as the enemy.

“Every child in Gaza is the enemy. And I’ll tell you more than that. Every child, every baby in Gaza is the enemy,” Feigslin said in an interview with Channel 14. He added that, “Every child that you are now giving milk to will rape your daughters and slaughter your children in 15 years.”

Safaa Al-Amsi was five months pregnant with her first child when the genocide began. Forced to live through bombardment and fear, in February 2024, while displaced from her home to southern Gaza by Israeli military operations, she gave birth to a son whom she named Sufyan. “He was as radiant as the moon,” she said, but her joy was short-lived. Sufyan survived only a month and a half.

One night, as he was being nursed at home, Sufyan’s health suddenly worsened. She rushed him to Kamal Adwan Hospital in Beit Lahia for a diagnosis and in hopes of finding treatment. The hospital, she described, was overwhelmed and lacking hygiene, staff, and basic care equipment. Amid it all, an outbreak of hepatitis spread among the patients. Sufyan never received care for his undiagnosed illness, which al-Amsi believes stemmed from an infection, and passed away as a result. His death, she said, left a wound in her heart that will never heal.

Five months later, she became pregnant again. Her second pregnancy, she recalled, was among the most harrowing experiences she has ever endured. She was unable to nourish her body after her first pregnancy, deprived of even the simplest food like milk or eggs. Her suffering deepened with constant displacement from one shelter to another. Exhaustion, she explained, consumed her body and spirit. She endured nights of unrelenting pain—even her teeth decayed—yet treatment was impossible.

With patience, al-Amsi eventually delivered her baby girl, Rania, in June. Her daughter’s birth, too, was accompanied by suffering. The cesarean delivery was agonizing, performed without pain relief or proper medical care, in an environment where food and comfort were absent. Weak and malnourished, al-Amsi found her ability to breastfeed impaired. Her milk, she said, was too thin to satisfy her baby. To make matters worse, Rania was born with an enlarged kidney pelvis and needed infant formula, but no hospital could provide it. Volunteer doctors who have traveled to Gaza on medical missions have told Drop Site that baby formula is one of the items that have been confiscated from them by Israeli authorities before entry.

“Every day, my pain grows as I see her hungry,” al-Amsi said. “I starve alongside her, nursing her from an empty body.”

Unable to afford diapers, al-Amsi resorted to cloth strips and nylon bags. These makeshift solutions have caused rashes and wounds on Rania’s tender skin, and al-Amsi’s heart broke as she watched her baby suffer. The hardship extended beyond food and medicine. Just a week after giving birth, she was displaced again, still bearing the fresh wounds of surgery. She described each step of that flight as a battle with death itself.

Today, al-Amsi’s life remains consumed by the cries of her infant daughter. “Whenever my baby cries from pain or hunger, I cry with her,” she said. “I feel as though I am on the verge of collapse, crushed by an unbearable weight and a suffocating sense of helplessness.”

Famine Deprivation

Khadija al-Laham, the mother of a two-month-old boy named Mohammad, experienced a similar ordeal as a pregnant woman during the war. Her suffering was compounded by the fact that her child was born at the height of the current famine.

Al-Laham suffered from gestational diabetes during her pregnancy, without even the most basic necessities or adequate food. She delivered her baby in June 2025 via cesarean section, and he weighed less than 2 kilograms (4.4 pounds) at birth. After giving birth, she could not stay in the hospital to receive further treatment and nurse him to health, as Nasser Hospital was under threat of evacuation due to Israeli attacks.

Al-Laham said that shortly after her son’s cesarean birth, she found nothing to eat except a small pack of sweets, barely enough to ease her hunger. Her husband had been injured a month earlier while attempting to fetch food from an aid distribution site. She adds, tearfully, that life in a tent after childbirth is harder than one can imagine: the bathroom is far away, the sand is uncomfortable, and the difficulty of giving birth becomes even harsher without proper shelter.

Like many other nursing Palestinian women who spoke with Drop Site, al-Laham also has had difficulty breastfeeding. As a result of her own malnutrition, she has difficulty producing adequate milk, and her baby continues to cry from hunger. Infant formula is extremely expensive, and even if she could find it, she cannot afford it. No organization or institution is currently providing support for nursing mothers.

She continues to describe her struggle to afford basic baby supplies. She must keep her baby in the same diaper all day due to exorbitant prices. She also struggles to feed her five other children, especially since her husband was injured. Yet what breaks her heart most is her infant Mohammad. She lives every moment in fear that he may succumb to the extreme heat that they experience inside their tent during the summer.

Born to a World of Fear

For pregnant women in Gaza—instead of living in environments that allow them space for comfort and joy, where they can have time to pamper themselves, enjoy spa treatments, paint their nails, and immerse themselves in the simple pleasures of life while preparing for motherhood—the experience of pregnancy has degraded into one of unrelenting pain, uncertainty, and deprivation.

The impact of Israel’s calculated policy of inflicting harm on the most vulnerable civilians through aid restrictions will likely be felt for generations. Babies who lack proper nutrition in their first thousand days are at risk of stunted growth, weakened immunity, and impaired brain development. This means that even if they survive today, many may grow up with learning difficulties, chronic health problems, and reduced opportunities in adulthood. In Gaza, where access to food, clean water, and medical care is so scarce, an entire generation of children is at risk of being permanently scarred—their futures stolen from them in infancy.

To listen to Joud, Safaa, and Khadija is to confront the truth that motherhood in Gaza is not celebrated; it is survived.