Photo for illustrative purposes only – not of the testimony giver.
Taken inside Al-Shifa Hospital after an Israeli airstrike on Gaza.

Testimony Date: 17 August 2025

Haya Abdul Karim Abdul Hadi Shehada, 24 years old, married, mother of one child, resident of Nuseirat Camp, central Gaza.

I am married to Yaqub Khader Shehada, 30 years old, and live in an apartment in Al-Salhi Towers, Nuseirat Camp. We had one child, Karma, two years old.

On 7 October 2023, at around 6:30 a.m., I woke up to the sound of powerful explosions, followed by my daughter’s terrified screams. I immediately held her in my arms to calm her down. I never imagined these were the sounds of missiles, explosions, and war. Shortly after, the sounds grew louder, and we realized the grim reality.

Because we lived in a very high-rise apartment overlooking the surroundings, the situation was extremely frightening, especially since the Israeli occupation forces initially targeted high buildings. Overcome by fear, I left my home and went to my family’s house, also in Nuseirat Camp.

From time to time, I would return to my apartment to collect essentials, then go back to my family’s home. But when the Israeli army stationed in the Netzarim axis, returning became impossible—my high apartment made us fully exposed, and the army targeted any elevated location showing movement. So I stayed in my family’s house and never went back.

After several months, conditions in Nuseirat worsened. The army threatened multiple areas with evacuation orders. We fled to a relative’s home near Al-Zawaida. When the situation eased slightly, we returned to my family’s home, even though Nuseirat continued to experience intermittent military operations. We simply had no other option.

Despite everything, we did not escape the occupation’s strikes. Around 2:00 a.m. on 25 June 2025, I woke to find my mother checking on all of us. I asked what was wrong. She said she just wanted to make sure we were okay. At that moment, my daughter Karma woke up and hugged me tightly. My mother left, and I held Karma close to help her fall back asleep.

Suddenly, I felt as though electricity jolted through my body, followed by something heavy crushing me, pressing against my chest. I began gasping for air, uttering my final prayers, unsure whether I was still alive—or if my daughter was still breathing.

After about fifteen minutes, rescuers lifted debris off my face, allowing me to breathe, and pulled Karma from my arms. I thought she was merely injured. We were rushed to Al-Awda Hospital. My condition was critical; staff even informed my family that I had died. I was immediately transferred to Al-Aqsa Martyrs Hospital, placed in intensive care, and fought for my life.

After twelve hours of unconsciousness, I began to regain my breath, my blood pressure stabilized, and my breathing became steady. Only then did the greatest shock of my life await me.

As soon as I became aware, I asked about Karma’s condition. My husband was holding her, so I thought she had been wounded. But when I reached for her, I found her lifeless, like a sleeping angel—she had died in my arms. I screamed uncontrollably: “How did I lose my only child?” My husband then took her to be buried. That was my final embrace with my beloved daughter.

I did not care about my own injuries—fractures, burns across my body—because the pain of losing Karma was far greater.

The strike was aimed at our neighbor’s house, but we bore immense damage. My injuries kept me hospitalized until today (the date of this testimony). My brother, Abdul Hadi Shehada (21 years old), was killed. My father, Abdul Karim Shehadeh (53 years old), was injured by shrapnel in his foot, causing severe bone damage and tendon rupture. My sister, Rama Shehada (14 years old), suffered shrapnel wounds to the head, dangerously close to the nerve center. My brother, Qusai Shehada (10 years old), was injured by shrapnel in his foot.

All this—loss of life, injuries, and destruction—resulted from a strike targeting a neighboring home. How devastating, then, must it be for those struck directly? My family home was destroyed entirely.

This aggression robbed us of the dearest souls to our hearts. I lost my only child—my joy, my future. I lost my brother. I can no longer walk. All I hope for now is to recover, to stand on my feet again, and for this war to end before it takes what little remains of us.