It’s been over a year since I last snuggled with my baby nephew, Kfir. Almost 390 days since his older brother, Ariel, ran into my loving arms.

Instead, baby Kfir, kidnapped at just 9 months old, has spent more of his life captive than free, with the horrible distinction of being the youngest hostage in Gaza. And like millions of you around the world, the last time I saw the faces of my red-haired nephews was in the horrific images of Hamas terrorists kidnapping them along with my sister-in-law, Shiri, in October 7, 2023.

For us, it is still October 7, 2023. We are frozen in time.

My brother Yarden is also a hostage, separated from his wife and children. It’s been almost a year since I sat on the porch chatting with Shiri or was teased by Yarden about my veganism. A year of thinking about them night and day, of talking about them instead of talking to them. Baby Kfir served one year as a hostage and Ariel served five. On October 10, my brother celebrated two years in captivity.

Kfir Bibas, left, and Ofri Bibas Levy, right, smile together under a tree.

We don’t have any information about Shiri and the boys. We have indications that Yarden is still alive. And this gives me hope. Hope and fear.

I fear that Hamas captors are abusing my family. I fear they are starving and barely surviving, kept in a dark, airless tunnel with little or no food, water, sunlight or air. I fear the day when I hear a knock on my door, announcing his death.

In the tunnel where Hamas brutally executed six hostages on August 31, we learned that there were no showers or toilets, only a bucket and some bottles to relieve oneself. Even prisoners in the most uncivilized penitentiaries receive better treatment. And those are prisoners. We are talking about innocent civilians here. Children. A baby. Captive for an entire year.

A lot has happened in the last year. Kfir celebrated his first birthday, Ariel turned 5 years old. This summer, the family planned to move north, away from the Gaza Strip, so they could provide a better life for their children.

This year I gave birth. My son is now three months old. I pray that he meets his cousins ​​and uncles soon. Alive.

It’s been almost 365 days since my family is no longer just mine. I have witnessed how many of you have embraced and cared for my family as if it were your own. A year in which my family’s lives have been reduced to posters and photographs.

I haven’t seen or spoken to my family in a year; We don’t celebrate holidays or birthdays together. I don’t even know what Kfir looks like today.

How was your year?

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It’s hard to hear that my family’s life has a price. They are not cars or something to trade for. It is difficult to know that so many interests of power, money, ego and politics come before the suffering of my family.

It should never be acceptable to take children hostage. Kfir and Ariel must be released immediately, without conditions. Every day that Kfir and Ariel are held captive in Gaza, the free and sane world is signaling to terrorists around the world that they too can cross that thick red line.

The ramifications of a “new normal” will not stop in the Middle East. In the World Trade Center attacks, terrorists targeted adult civilians. Do you want terrorists to think they can now attack children with impunity?

We have been fighting for the release of the hostages for more than 365 days. We need reinforcements. Please help us in any way you can. Share the hostages’ story, spread the word about their plight, and let anyone who has the power to do anything know that you demand their release. Now.

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We need the global community and world leaders to pressure Hamas to accept a deal to release all the hostages. An agreement is the only way we can see all the hostages at home, the only way I can see my beloved brother, his wife and my two nephews again.

Our family chooses to believe in humanity. Kfir and Ariel’s grandparents were brutally murdered on October 7. We don’t want to bury three generations. Please help us urgently save the lives of the hostages. Every minute that passes could be your last.