Live from Lebanon: Nour Shaw-af's interview on Morning Ireland

“The drones are what basically drives me to sleep next to my son. I cannot let go of him, knowing that any minute this drone could lead to an airstrike.”

“You cannot explain to a four-year-old what’s happening. He keeps asking, ‘What are those sounds that we are hearing? Why are schools closed? Why are we confined to our home?’ and I simply cannot explain any of that to him. Those are scary sounds that make him want to hide, that make him want to hug you and hold on to you and not leave you because he simply does not understand what is happening or why is this happening.”

“He hides behind his mother. He thinks that I am going to protect him. At times, I feel that those very small acts that I do – whether it’s hugging him or sleeping next to him, allowing him to hide behind me – are acts that will protect him. Even though I know that, deep down inside, I know that this is physically impossible. It’s even more stressful and traumatic for me to know that even those attempts to protect my own child are in vain.”

“I am terrified. I am terrified every single second of the day. I simply do not know what’s going to happen. I do not know if Israel’s next strike is going to be on my neighbourhood, at my office, at my son’s school, on the way back from school when schools are even open.”

“The airstrikes are the scariest, because you do not know how close they are. You do not know what they have hit. When you hear the first one, you don’t know if there’s a second one coming. With the new tactics that are being used, be it multiple airstrikes, be it levelling certain areas or villages – that is always a thought that cannot escape you. Are you going to be next?”

“Wherever he is in the house, the first thing he does when he hears any of those sounds – regardless of what it is – he just runs towards me."

"Honestly, every time there is a strike or a sonic boom or a quake, I feel it in my guts. It's as if the growing life in me feels that I'm afraid - that I'm scared but I'm also feeling guilty. I'm feeling guilty because there's a life growing in me amidst all this chaos and catastrophic conditions. I cannot imagine how I am going to give birth under those conditions."

“How am I going to care for a baby, for a newborn who will need all sorts of things that are not going to be available if the situation continue this way? We are already seeing that people are struggling to get milk and diapers. Imagine how the situation will be two and a half months from now if there’s no ceasefire?"

“I think stress is an understatement in this situation. It's more than that. It's having to think at every turn of the hour how much more can I take. How long is this going to last? Can I really continue to want to protect myself, my unborn child, my child, my family – but also, all of the people I have to serve? I am a humanitarian worker. It’s my duty to serve those people who have been displaced, who are in dire conditions because of Israel’s violence.”

“I have no idea how I’m going to give birth. I really hope I will make it to a hospital. I had not thought about what to do if I can’t. I do not have the luxury to think about how I’m going to survive the next two months, where I’m going to give birth, if I’m going to have access to a hospital. We’ve seen mothers who have had to give birth in shelters, and mothers who were not able to breastfeed as a result of the trauma that they’re going through. Mothers who are not able to cater for their children. I’m not going to be the first one if that happens to me.”