For Amani Shreim, motherhood has become a daily struggle to protect her four-month-old son, Ibrahim – not only from illness, but from the conditions surrounding him in Gaza. With no cot available anywhere in the markets, she lays him on the floor beside her each night.
“It’s dangerous,” she tells The National. “The bedding isn’t suitable, and there are insects and rodents. But I have no other choice.”
Her home in Sheikh Radwan, like much of Gaza, is partially destroyed. The ground her baby sleeps on is not just hard, it is exposed to the realities of war: dust, pests and deeply unhygienic conditions. A mosquito net, a basic item for infant care, is nowhere to be found.
“His body is full of bites,” she says. “I cannot protect him.”
“Transportation is no longer as easy as it used to be, so we often have to walk. I have to carry my baby all the time because I cannot find a stroller for him. Even if one is available, it is usually second-hand and very expensive,” she added.
Across Gaza, stories like Ms Shreim's are becoming the norm. A severe shortage of baby supplies, from cots and nappies to toys and protective items, is quietly reshaping childhood before it even begins.
The shortage is not simply about scarcity. It is about restriction.
Mohammad Al Rifi, a toy trader in Gaza city’s Al Zawiya market, says attempts to bring in children’s supplies have repeatedly been blocked by Israel.
“We tried to import toys and baby items,” he says. “But the occupation has refused to approve the entry of these trucks, claiming that these items are not among the goods permitted to enter Gaza.”
As a result, the market has all but collapsed. Shelves that once held toys, learning aids and baby essentials now stand empty. When items do appear, prices have skyrocketed, often tenfold.
“What used to cost 50 shekels now exceeds 500,” Mr Al Rifi explains. “And even finding anything is rare.”
For families already struggling with poverty and displacement, such prices are out of reach.
Impossible upbringing
Muath Al Agha knows this all too well. His wife is due to give birth in a month, but preparing for the baby has become an overwhelming financial burden.
“A crib used to cost 100 shekels,” he says. “Now it’s 800 or more, if you can find one at all.”
Nappies, baby clothes and milk are available, but few can afford them. The prices are forcing families to make impossible choices, buying only the bare minimum and often going without.
“You just buy what you can,” he says. “Not everything you may need, just the essentials.”
For Mr Al Agha, the crisis extends beyond the newborn. His three older children, aged four, seven and 10, have also been affected. Their toys were lost when the family home was destroyed, and there are no replacements.
“Before the war, I bought them a toy with every salary,” he recalls. “Now, for three years, I haven’t bought them anything.”
The absence of toys is not just about play; it is about development.
Tahani Abu Salim, a mother of five, used educational toys to teach her older children letters, numbers and problem-solving skills. It was a method she believed in, a way to nurture intelligence through fun.
But with her younger children, aged three and five, that approach is no longer possible.
“There are no toys,” she says. “I cannot teach them the way I taught the others.”
Experts describe play as essential to early childhood development, helping children build cognitive, social and motor skills. In Gaza, that tool has effectively disappeared.
“Toys are not a luxury,” Ms Abu Salim says. “They are part of a child’s right to grow and learn.”
Hala Abu Sukhaila, a psychological and educational counsellor working in Gaza, says the impact goes far beyond material deprivation.
“For children, toys are not just pieces of plastic or rigid objects; they are among the best tools for learning, developing intelligence, and enhancing their auditory, visual and other senses and perceptions,” she tells The National.
Children's mental health also been severely affected by the war, and toys have been one of the few ways to help them express fear and trauma.
“As psychological counsellors, both before and during the war, we rely heavily on toys as a primary means of helping children release emotional stress, provide them with entertainment, and support their learning,” says Ms Abu Sukhaila.
“At a certain stage, a child needs toys to develop properly, and their absence or unavailability due to the Israeli blockade has created a major problem.
“Toys also help keep children engaged and occupied. Without them, children are forced to go out and play in the streets, which are currently filled with dirt and harmful environmental conditions.”
A new generation in Gaza is being denied the chance to grow up in a healthy environment, with access to education and the basic tools that support development.
The crisis reveals a quieter dimension of life in Gaza, one that unfolds not only in hospitals or on the streets, but inside homes, where parents are struggling to provide even the most basic start in life.
A cot. A toy. A net to protect against insects. These are small things, easily taken for granted elsewhere, but in Gaza their absence carries weight far beyond their size.
For newborns like Ibrahim, the world begins not with comfort or safety, but with scarcity. And for their parents, the challenge is not just to raise a child, but to do so without the tools that make growth possible.
“I know that motherhood is difficult under normal circumstances,” Ms Shreim said. “So what is it like in a situation like ours now?”
