Motherhood in Israel 2026

My heart skipped a beat as my middle son asked me during one of the alarms: “Mommy, why does someone wish to kill us?”

Threw me off completely. Unable to find an age adequate response on the spot, I found myself lying to him for the first time and mumbled: “nobody wishes to kill you personally, it is a stupid thing called war that grown ups engage in sometimes and everyone loses.”

Like most parents around me, I find myself absorbing my children’s fear and confusion, acting as a steady anchor while the ground feels so uncertain to us all.

How is next week going to look like? Can I plan meetings? Our trip got canceled. My husband got stuck abroad. At least everyone is healthy. I am grateful. How is tomorrow going to look like?

Forget it, how is this evening going to be? How long do we have until the next alarm?

There is a quiet tension in holding the pride of my own military service-while simultaneously whispering a prayer that our children might never have to carry any burden or face any dangers.

I look up to these brave young women involved in battle and I wish I could join again. Knowing full well my current place and role…

I recognize that we are collectively walking through the pages of history and I feel an unwavering conviction that there is no other place I would rather be. Yet, I admit that part of my heart remains wistful. I can’t help but wonder about the version of childhood they might have had in a more tranquil corner of the world — one where “safety” is a given rather than a strategic calculation.

Staying put because it’s home, it will forever be my only home. I love it and it’s people with all my heart. I will dedicate all my years to this place. All the while, doing my best to draw for my children a childhood that involves more “once upon a time” and a lot less “national resilience.”