Motherhood is having an assigned drawer in your bedside table for loose teeth you stole from under warm pillowcases undetected in the dead of night over years.

In Gaza, motherhood is having to part with the bed, the bedside table, the drawer, the teeth even! There are no years to come; there is only the murdered children with gaps in their mouths.

The privilege of nights coming and going, knowing you can always store-away or toss-out the teeth tomorrow and just never getting around to it.

The drawer of your bedside table full of the loose teeth may have once seemed slightly obscene.

Now it is the last thing you stare at before you close your eyes and mourn motherhood in Gaza.