"Not only was the child born under fire on that terrible day, he is starting kindergarten here in Sderot"

This morning will begin like it does for thousands of other families: a mother accompanying her son for the first time to the kindergarten gate, a little excitement, a little apprehension, a small backpack on his back, and a child taking another first step on his path.

But on the path of Nitzan and her son Ahiya today, another person will walk — Avi Ezra, the Sderot Municipality security officer. The man who, almost three years earlier, managed to rescue Nitzan from the city while she was in labor and Ahiya was still in her womb, will accompany them at this moment as well. Back then, the way was out of Sderot, amidst gunfire, terrorists, and burning vehicles. Today, the way is to the kindergarten in the city.

This is how a circle that began on the morning of October 7 closes. On the night before the attack, Nitzan's labor began. At 6:29, with the start of the sirens, she was already awake. Her husband went out for the morning prayer, and she remained at home with the children, still trying to understand if the contractions she was feeling heralded that the birth was approaching.

In those minutes, she did not yet understand what was happening outside. Her husband returned later from the synagogue, the shooting intensified, and reports of terrorist infiltration began to arrive. Even then, Nitzan says, it took time to understand the dimensions of the event. The contractions, however, did not stop. As the hours passed, she already understood that she would likely give birth that day, but the road to the hospital had become dangerous, almost impossible.

At a certain stage, she had already come to terms with the possibility that she would have to give birth at home in the safe room (MAMAD) with her children around her. "I said I have a neighbor who is a midwife, she will come to deliver me at home, I have no choice," she recalls. But even that option was taken off the table. "They told me: she is not leaving the house, none of you are leaving the house."

And then, in a Sderot women's group, someone sent her the phone number of Avi Ezra, whom she did not know until that moment. "One phone call and he answers me," Nitzan recalls. "He doesn't know me, he doesn't know who I am." Ezra, who was already deep inside the events of that morning, did not hesitate. "He told me: get organized, I'm coming now. Without hesitation at all."

Avi was one of the first municipal employees to arrive at the municipal center. According to him, he was on site around 6:45–6:47, and later the mayor and security personnel joined. On the screens, they began to see the first images of the terrorists' pickup truck that entered Sderot and to understand that the city was inside an event of a type that none of them had known. "You live in a movie, you don't understand it," he describes.

Inside that chaos, Avi went out to rescue Nitzan. The drive out of Sderot looked like a war zone. Nitzan was in labor, the children with her, two armed soldiers accompanied the vehicle, and there was a real fear of encountering terrorists on the roads. The children were laid on the floor of the vehicle.

"I'm in labor, with children on the floor," she says. The instruction was clear: "There is no way you are stopping, there is no way anyone is lifting their head." They tried to explain to the children, so as not to stress them too much, that they were lying down because of a 'Red Color' alert, while burning vehicles and security forces were visible all around.

At first, they tried to reach Barzilai Hospital, but due to the security situation and the understanding that the hospital had been hit by a missile, they continued to Assuta Ashdod Hospital. There, almost a day after the start of the attack, Ahiya was born, healthy and whole.

One of the first people to receive the picture from the delivery room was Avi. "The first person I send a message to when I give birth," says Nitzan. She sent him a picture of her and Ahiya and wrote thank you. Avi was already back in the situation room by then, continuing to handle events in the city.

For him, too, the connection between birth and gunfire and sirens is not foreign. In the conversation, he recalls that even around the birth of his last son, during Operation Protective Edge in 2014, his family experienced a similar but different reality of contractions under the threat of rockets. Sometimes this is what life in the Gaza Envelope looks like: even the most private and joyful moments happen when war is in the background.

Almost three years later, Ahiya is no longer the baby in the picture from the delivery room. Next month he will turn three, and today he is entering kindergarten in Sderot for the first time.

And again, Avi is there. "It's a miracle you answered me, it's a miracle you managed to get me out, it's a miracle that nothing happened to the child. Everything is a miracle," says Nitzan. And then, as she looks at the closing of the circle, she adds: "Not only was the child born, the child is in kindergarten, and here in Sderot. It's the most moving thing."

But Ahiya's story is also the story of the choice to stay. After the massacre, when the family was evacuated and the return to Sderot was not at all taken for granted, Nitzan says that it was actually her eldest son who gave her the answer.

"I said to him: listen, what do we do from here?" she recalls. And he answered: "Mom, we are not there. Hamas is there." Then he added: "This country, this whole land was promised to Abraham our forefather and we are the descendants of Abraham our forefather. It's ours, all of this is ours."

"What seven-year-old child even says that?" says Nitzan. According to her, it was his words that gave her a "tailwind" for the decision to return to Sderot. Since then, Nitzan has managed to give birth to another daughter. She too will grow up in Sderot, alongside her brother and his brother. The family was not born in the city, but chose it as a home and chose to continue raising their children in it.

Avi was also not born in Sderot. After almost two decades in the city, he already feels completely local there. "If in every place where there are attacks people get up and leave, then in what country will we live?" he says. "I think this is the victory — that we stay, we rise, we develop."

Sderot Mayor Alon Davidi said: "Ahiya is for me a symbol of Sderot's victory. On the morning when Hamas terrorists tried to bring death and destruction here, new life was born here. Three years later, to see Ahiya entering kindergarten in Sderot, in a city that is growing, being built, and filling up with children again, is our answer to our enemies. They tried to uproot us from here, and we are raising the next generation here."

Almost three years after that trip, Avi and Nitzan will today again make a joint journey with Ahiya. Then he was in his mother's womb, on the way out of a city that was under a terrorist attack. Today he is walking into a kindergarten in Sderot.

"Not only was the child born, the child is in kindergarten, and here in Sderot," says Nitzan; Avi summarizes what both of them have chosen to do since that day: "We stay, we rise, we develop."