עלה - הרשת הלאומית לטיפול וקידום ילדים ואנשים עם מוגבלויות Facebook ad: “They took away the only thing those kids have in this world”

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When it happened with Hili, we were just a young couple. I felt like the sky was falling on me.😰 It was as if I were holding a glass in my hands and it suddenly broke—but I managed to quickly pick up the pieces because I knew Hili needed me. We did everything we could to find out what was going on. We ran every test possible to rule out the chance it would happen again. And then, the moment I gave birth to Liam, I looked at him and instinctively told my mom: ‘Until I see him walking and talking, I won’t be at peace.’ Something about the way he looked—almost like a fetus who still hadn’t realized he was already born—reminded me of what I had seen with Hili. Somehow, deep inside, I felt we might be reliving the same story again. No matter what we did to prevent it, it happened again. But I tried to hold on to faith. I told myself that maybe I was just being paranoid. Lightning doesn’t strike twice... that’s what my mom always used to say. Even my husband said, ‘There’s no way this is happening again. Liam is fine. You’re just anxious. He’s not like her.’ And I would always reply, ‘You’re right. He’s not like her — but he’s also not like other kids his age.’ One day, while my husband was away on a work trip, I took a friend and went to see a doctor alone. I sat in front of him and said, ‘Look at my son. Examine him. I already have one child at home—tell me I’m wrong, that I’m just imagining things.’ He looked at Liam, and immediately he said, ‘You need to do an EEG and an MRI.’ That was all I needed to hear. To me, it felt like a black mark on my life—again. I took Liam and drove home. I remember crying the entire way. My friend cried with me. We kept saying, ‘This can’t be real. It has to be a dream. Any minute now, someone will wake us up.’ I asked myself, ‘How could God do this to me again?’ We were just a young couple, with our whole lives ahead of us—and two children with special needs at home. I knew I was young, that life was still ahead of me, that I might look like a shadow of my former self... But I made a promise. I promised to fight for them. To dress them every day in the most beautiful clothes. To buy them shoes—even if they don’t walk. To believe in them. To see more in them than what the world sees. The only ones who believed in them, besides me, were the people at ALEH. They were the only ones who believed me when I said that Hili understands everything. Everything! (Which later turned out to be true.) They were the only ones who fought with me for every small bit of progress. They’re the ones who take the kids on weekends so that my husband, our other children (thank God they’re healthy), and I can get a moment to breathe. This place—ALEH—is their life. When we learned it was hit by a missile, there was no greater shock. Still, a month and a half after the attack, there’s no solution for ALEH’s children! The state only covers 50% of the costs for the building, care, and equipment. And these are the children who need it most. They still haven’t received the solutions they deserve. So I’m asking everyone who sees this post: Please look beyond the physical disabilities of my children and others at ALEH. Look into their eyes. See their understanding. Recognize the suffering of a child who hasn’t been able to communicate for over a month—because his eye-tracking device, the only way he can interact with the world, is gone. ALEH needs you. The children at ALEH need your support. Every donation counts. And if they can’t shout for help—then we, their parents, will shout for them. Help us rebuild ALEH. They’ve had no solution since the attack.” Donate now to help rebuild ALEH > https://shutaf.im/ale?lang=en&cur=USD

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shutaf.im

They took away the only thing those kids have in this world 😰