Raphael and Mary Bahalul (Amrani)

We lived in Moshav Goren. I gave birth at the maternity ward in the hospital in Nahariya when I was sixteen. In the room were so many doctors and nurses. When the baby came out I did not even manage to hear her cry, they took her immediately and left. I did not hold her for even a second. Then they told me the girl is fine and that everything is ok. We came to visit time and again and I asked for my baby. The next day they brought out all the babies, but mine. “Where is she” I asked, and they told me she is too little and cannot be breastfed. They took me to see her. She seemed fine to me. I saw her the next day and then I was released. They said they must keep the child because she is not feeling well. I was a child myself and I believed them and did not know Hebrew well. After two or three weeks they sent a letter to tell us the girl died and was buried. My husband wanted to go to the grave but got told there is no point. My husband was young. He could not believe she child has died, but in those years no one believed such things could happen.