I am Sivilia Yitzkhak (ID number 051938454). I was born 14 months after my older brother, also named Yitzkhak and born on March 26, 1952, at the Meir Hospital in Kfar Saba, was kidnapped. We were told at the time that he had passed away.

My parents, Rachel (ID number 044344026) and Albert (ID number 044344018) Sivilia, immigrated to Israel in October 1950 and stayed with their relatives at the Saqiya Aleph transit camp in Or Yehuda. My parents lived there in a tent for three years.

On March 26, 1952 my mother gave birth to my older brother at Meir Hospital in Kfar Saba. He was there for a few days but then my mother was told he was better off at the WIZO nursery on King George Street in Tel Aviv, where he would be better looked after and would develop properly, under supervision. My mom gave her consent because the living conditions in the tent were harsh. Even more than that, she was happy a solution for her newborn was provided so quickly. My brother was in the nursery for three months and even his "Brit" (i.e. circumcision) was held there. And every day, my mom, Rachel, would come to breastfeed him and stay with him for long hours.

One day, my mom happened not to visit him for two or three days since she didn't feel well, and when she arrived there on Sunday morning she was told that he had passed away and had been buried the other day (a Shabbat) in the Nahalat Yitzkhak cemetery. Unbelievable! My parents headed back to the nursery to speak with the medical staff, the doctors and sisters, and were thrown out of the hospital, humiliated. They told my mother "Go away, your baby is dead!" and that she was still young and would have plenty more children.

After 14 months or so I was born, on May 20, 1953. They named me Yitzkhak Sivilia because they thought their eldest son, Yitzkhak, had died. All that time, my parents had a bad feeling about it and did not quite understand how come he'd died and had no grave.

16 years later a draft card for the other Yitzkhak Sivilia arrived. All the details matched except for the ID number, which was different, and then we realized it was not for me. My father went to the recruiting center and stated the baby had died and that there was no one to enlist. They said they would take care of the matter.

At a later time we participated in a national investigation commission at the Agron Guest House in Jerusalem. My mother, who was summoned to give her testimony, got on the stand to tell about the case. There were other women there and they all told the same story about the disappearing of babies. A week later, my mother received a death certificate with only the name of the deceased, and no mention of the ID number we have in our documents.

My mother (b. 1930) is now 86 years old. She is frail and has dementia. All her life she's been living with the feeling that her baby is alive. She keeps several items of clothing at home and holds on to them for dear life. I hope my mother will hold on and get the chance to see him, God willing.

I would like to point out that my mother also gave birth to a baby girl, in 1957. She was told her baby, too, had died, at birth. We don't have any further details about her.

Me and my sister, Mali Duek, have been trying all these years to find our lost brother, and we encourage you to help us solve this painful problem.