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

Instead, baby Kfir, kidnapped at just 9 months old, has spent more of his life as a captive than free, with the horrifying distinction of being the youngest hostage in Gaza. And like millions of you around the world, the last time I saw my redheaded nephews’ faces was in the horrifying footage of Hamas terrorists abducting them along with my sister-in-law, Shiri, on Oct. 7, 2023.

For us, it’s still Oct. 7, 2023. We are frozen in time.

My brother, Yarden, is also a hostage – separated from his wife and kids. It’s been nearly a year since I’ve sat on the porch chatting with Shiri or been the object of Yarden’s teasing about my veganism. A year of thinking about them night and day, of talking about them instead of talking to them. Baby Kfir turned one as a hostage, and Ariel turned five. On October 10, my brother marked his second birthday in captivity.

We have no information whatsoever about Shiri and the boys. We have indications that Yarden is still alive. And this gives me hope. Hope and fear.

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

We learned from the tunnel where Hamas brutally executed six hostages on Aug. 31, that there were no showers and no toilets, just a bucket and some bottles in which to relieve themselves. Even prisoners in the most uncivilized penitentiaries are treated with better conditions. And those are convicts. Here we are talking about innocent civilians. Children. A baby. Captive for a whole year.

So much has happened in the last year. Kfir marked his first birthday, Ariel turned 5. This summer, the family was planning to move up north, away from the Gaza Strip so that they could make a better life for their kids.

This year I gave birth. My child is already three months old. I pray that he will meet his cousins and aunt and uncle soon. Alive.

It’s been nearly 365 days since my family is no longer mine alone. I’ve witnessed how many of you have embraced and cared for my family as your own. A year wherein my family members’ lives have been reduced to posters and photographs.

I haven’t seen or talked to my family for a year; we didn’t celebrate the holidays and birthdays together. I don’t even know how Kfir looks today.

How was your year?

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It’s hard having to hear that my family’s lives have a price. They are not cars or something to trade for. It’s hard knowing that so many interests of power, money, ego, and politics are ahead of my family’s suffering.

It should never be acceptable to take children hostage. Kfir and Ariel must be released immediately, with no conditions attached. Every day that Kfir and Ariel are held captive in Gaza, the sane free world is signaling to terrorists around the globe 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 civilian adults. Do you want terrorists to think they can now target children with impunity?

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

We need the global community and world leaders to pressure Hamas to accept a deal to release all the hostages. A deal is the only way we will see all the hostages back home, the only way for me to 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 Oct. 7. We don’t want to bury three generations. Please help us urgently save the hostages’ lives. Every minute that passes could be their last.