'Trapped in incubators': Gaza's premature babies caught between Israeli siege and world silence

On the lower floor of Nasser Medical Complex in Khan Younis, a quiet war is unfolding, not one of bullets and bombs but of dwindling supplies, failing power, and dying infants.

In the neonatal intensive care unit, the soft hum of machines mixes with the faint, intermittent cries of Gaza's most vulnerable: premature babies fighting for life in the shadow of an unrelenting Israeli blockade.

Ahmed al-Farra, head of paediatrics and obstetrics at the hospital, glances anxiously at the monitor hooked to a tiny infant weighing less than one kilogram.

The baby lies still inside an incubator, fed through a fragile tube and breathing with the help of failing equipment.

"We're running out of everything […] The formula we have won't last more than 48 hours. We could soon witness premature babies dying from starvation, not prematurity," al-Farra told The New Arab.

Since the Israeli army tightened its blockade of the Gaza Strip in March, medical centres across the enclave have faced critical shortages.

Nowhere is that impact more devastating than in the neonatal units, where a lack of medical-grade formulae, spare parts for incubators, and even basic electricity is pushing already fragile lives toward the brink.

Mothers waiting for milk and miracles

Outside the intensive care room, a line of mothers waits in quiet desperation. Among them is Eman Samara, who delivered her baby prematurely after an airstrike shattered her home.

Her premature baby, too weak for to nurse, now survives on specialised milk fed through a tube.

"He can't breastfeed, and the formula is almost gone [...] The doctor told me that a few hours of delay could be fatal," she told TNA, gripping the edge of the incubator.

She watches her baby's chest rise and falls in a shallow motion. "We fled the bombing to find death in a hospital. How can a baby die because a bottle of milk wasn't allowed through a crossing?"

Nearby, Noura Abu Taha's story reveals an even more harrowing reality. After delivering premature twins, one of her babies died within days.

"My husband tried to get milk from a relief centre up north. He waited in line for hours under the sun. Then, the soldiers opened fire to disperse the crowd. He was shot and died right there. The milk never reached us," she remarked to TNA.

Pausing for a moment, she adds, "My child survived the war inside me but now faces death because the world has decided Gaza isn't worth saving."

Nurse Reham al-Saed tries to do the impossible, distributing scarce formula among dozens of infants inside the ward.

"We ration milk based on urgency. Sometimes, we reduce the dose to keep all babies alive a little longer. It is a horrible choice. We're not nurses any more; we're witnesses to tiny deaths," she said.

Siege reimposed, aid denied

The worsening crisis is a direct outcome of the renewed siege imposed on Gaza since March 2, after the temporary ceasefire between Hamas and Israel collapsed.

When hostilities resumed on 18 March, Israel sealed border crossings, particularly Kerem Shalom, the primary entry point for humanitarian aid.

Medical supplies, including formulas, antibiotics, and spare ventilator parts, have since been mostly blocked since then.

UNICEF, the Red Cross, and the World Health Organisation have all issued urgent appeals for unimpeded aid access, but Israel's response has been negligible.

Al-Farra expressed deep frustration. "We receive daily calls from international organisations warning of a looming health collapse. But warnings don't bring a formula. We get no milk, no fuel, not even a promise," he said.

"We're not asking for rare treatments. We need basic life essentials such as food for infants and electricity for machines. But the world leaves our babies to die quietly," he added,

The closure of crossings has also crippled other departments in Gaza's hospitals. Surgeries are cancelled due to power outages. Emergency rooms run without analgesics. Maternity wards reuse supplies meant for single use. Some neonatal units have shut down after their last oxygen tanks ran out of oxygen.

"People think this is just about war, but the war isn't only in the skies; it's in every hospital corridor, every flickering light, every silent incubator," he explained.

Since an open confrontation erupted between Israel and Iran a week ago, Gaza has virtually disappeared from the international radar.

With headlines dominated by missile exchanges in the region and fears over Iran's threats to close the Strait of Hormuz, the humanitarian catastrophe in Gaza has receded into silence.

"The more bombs fall on Iran and Israel, the quieter our cries become. Gaza is no longer a priority. Politicians debate enrichment levels while we beg for baby milk," Salma Ahmed, a woman in Gaza, told TNA.

The result is a collective neglect that has only emboldened Israel to maintain its siege with impunity. Even as UN agencies warn of imminent famine and aid organisations predict the possible loss of entire generations, the blockade continues unchallenged, mainly.

The World Food Program has warned of a "catastrophic hunger crisis" in Gaza, while the WHO has called for "the immediate and unconditional entry of humanitarian aid."

Yet, the crossings remain shut, and the babies continue to die.

"In Gaza today, death no longer only arrives with a missile. It comes through the absence of milk, medicine, electricity. It comes with each aid truck turned away, each appeal ignored, each breath that a baby fails to take in time," Salma stressed.