In the ruins of northern Gaza, where Israeli bombs rarely pause, a baby girl named Malak Ahmed Al-Qanoua entered the world under tragic circumstances—born without a brain, her skull ending just above her eyes. Her life, barely days old, has already become a haunting symbol of the silent weapons tearing through Palestinian futures.

Doctors at Al-Awda Hospital confirm that Malak’s condition is not isolated. Cases of severe foetal deformities are rising, and medical experts fear the cause may lie in the toxic materials released during Israel’s intense and unrelenting bombardment. As weapons explode overhead, so too does the risk to pregnant women exposed to unknown substances carried in the air and soil.

The echoes of Iraq are unmistakable, where congenital abnormalities spiked after foreign invasions left behind chemical and radioactive waste. Today in Gaza, the situation feels painfully familiar. Reports from both human rights organisations and local medical delegations have raised alarm over the increasing frequency of miscarriages, birth defects, and spontaneous abortions. These are not the outcomes of chance, but of war machines waged against bodies too small to defend themselves.

Recent testimonies from Gaza's residents suggest that Israel is deploying new and potentially banned weaponry. Many report hearing unfamiliar sounds during airstrikes—an ominous indication that experimental or prohibited arms may be in use. While images of charred rubble circulate widely, the hidden scars—those carried in wombs—are only now beginning to surface.

Human Rights Watch and UNICEF have both issued grim warnings. Pregnant women are trapped without healthcare, newborns without shelter, and babies like Malak are born not only into poverty, but into poisoned skies. Gaza’s children are being hunted not just by hunger and bullets, but by an invisible war inside their mothers’ wombs.