Hema alsabea

To My Little One, Ali…” My dear son, forgive me. Today, the milk is gone. There’s nothing left — not a drop. I stood there, helpless, watching your tiny body cry out in hunger, and I had nothing to give you. Your mother, tired and unwell, tried again and again to breastfeed you, but her body is too weak. Her milk has turned into something like water — thin, empty, without the nourishment you need. She hasn’t eaten properly in days. There’s simply no food to help her nourish herself — and no way for her to nourish you. I tried to calm you… I held you close, I sang to you, I prayed. But your hunger is louder than my voice. So I gave you an empty bottle. Yes… an empty bottle. Just so you could hold something, just so I could feel for a moment that I was doing something — even if it meant lying to you. I hoped it would help you sleep. It didn’t. Son, I didn’t lie because I don’t care. I lied because I care too much. Because I am broken. Because I am watching you slip away from me — not from illness, not from anything we could prevent — but from hunger. Today, a single can of formula costs over $100. A single pack of diapers? Over $300. To keep you alive, my baby, we need at least $400 every week. I’m calling out with everything I have left in me — Please… help me save my child