Help Noor and her family survive

A Tale of a House Under the Rubble

It all began like a dream… A single month of joy, filled with unforgettable little details: morning laughter, a cup of coffee, and my voice whispering to him, "Our home is more beautiful with you here."

We didn't know that war was approaching, carrying within it a sudden end to that beautiful dream.

Yes, my friends, let me introduce myself… I am Nour El Hoda, and my husband is Karam. We were expecting our first child, the dream yet to be born.

Our life was simple, filled with security and affection. I lived like a newlywed in my dream apartment with a truly unique man.

Our days were peaceful, like bright mornings, undisturbed except by the sound of the sea rising or our laughter mingling.

But everything changed in an instant… We were in our apartment when the neighboring house was bombed, and the place shook from the force of the explosion.

Minutes later, another missile struck, this time hitting our house directly. We miraculously emerged from the smoke and rubble, as if God had granted us a new life.

But that life brought with it indescribable pain… A few days later, I began to feel strange pains, until the tragedy struck—I lost my unborn child and my home, all in a single moment.

The pain didn't end there; a new chapter of suffering began.

We were displaced countless times, carrying what remained of our belongings and memories from place to place.

We lived in tents, exposed to the rain and cold, without a roof to protect our dreams or walls to shelter us.

The nights were sleepless, filled with screams and fear.

The unborn child was my constant source of worry, and every day my heart ached with anxiety for his life.

We searched for hours for clean water, sometimes making do with weeds and unusable water.

We no longer knew the taste of sleep, the taste of safety, or even the taste of a normal life.

The smell of cold and smoke filled the tent, and the children cried incessantly.

Sickness, hunger, and cold became our constant companions.

Sometimes I wept silently to hide my tears from my husband, and sometimes I found myself screaming alone in the night, longing for a home that no longer existed, for a child whose life was cut short, for a life that had lost all its simplicity.

Despite all this pain, God blessed me with another pregnancy.

But this time, worries haunted me every day, the fear of losing my baby again.

Nine months passed under the harshest conditions: scarcity of food, a life lived amidst fear, cold, and destruction… Despite everything, I clung to hope and prayed to God that this pregnancy would be safe and bring with it the joy we had lost.

The labor pains came, amidst the sounds of explosions and relentless shelling.

But amidst the terror and devastation, the most beautiful thing happened—God gave me my son, a tiny, innocent child, carrying with him the light of hope after all the pain.

And so, there are three of us…

We live in a tent that offers no protection from the scorching sun or the bitter cold of winter, and I have a very young child, not yet a year old.

He needs milk and diapers, and I, as his breastfeeding mother, need nourishment and care to be able to breastfeed and keep him healthy.

My friends…

I desperately need your help,

any support that can alleviate our suffering and give our little one a decent life despite everything we've been through.

Please, don't leave us alone in this battle against hunger, fear, and cold.

Every day that passes in this tent is another day of suffering that we may not be able to bear alone.