Ubah Mohamed Said, 34, never expected to be caring for a newborn at this stage in her life. But when her sister Asha died from childbirth complications, Ubah became the only hope for the tiny baby boy her sister left behind. In their traditional community, an infant without a mother faces slim chances of survival, especially during a drought. Ubah, already a mother of three herself, embraced her nephew as one of her own despite the strain on her family’s limited resources. She named him Mahad, meaning “thanks”, in honour of her sister’s memory. “I promised my sister I would take care of her baby,” Ubah says, her voice heavy with emotion. “It was very hard. I had no milk to give him and no money for formula milk.”

In the weeks that followed, baby Mahad struggled. Ubah tried feeding him watered-down cow milk and goat milk when she could get it, but it wasn’t enough. The infant became quiet and weak – signs of severe malnutrition in a baby so young. He developed a cough and frequent diarrhoea, and his tiny body began to show ribs. Ubah was terrified that she would lose him too. In a desperate bid, she travelled to MSF supported Mudug regional hospital she’d heard about in a nearby town, known for helping malnourished children. “I wasn’t sure they would even treat a baby whose mother was gone,” Ubah admits, “but I had to try. He was fading away in my arms.”

At the hospital, the medical team quickly assessed that Mahad was severely malnourished and also suffering from a respiratory infection. They assured Ubah they would do everything they could for Mahad. The baby was placed in an incubator to keep him warm and given oxygen to help with his breathing. They started feeding him therapeutic milk formula through a tiny tube, because he was too weak to consume it. Ubah watched anxiously, but for the first time in weeks, she felt like Mahad had a fighting chance. “I saw the nurses checking him all through the night, never leaving him,” she says. “It was the first time I could actually sleep a little, knowing he was in safe hands.”

Over the next days, Mahad received round-the-clock care. The medical team treated his infection with medications and carefully increased his milk feeds as he tolerated them. Ubah stayed by his side, learning how to keep him clean and how to do “kangaroo care” – holding him skin-to-skin against her chest to provide warmth and comfort. Ubah was also provided with emotional support: a counsellor at the hospital sat with Ubah several times to talk about her sister’s death and Ubah’s new responsibilities, helping her process her grief and exhaustion. “Those talks healed my heart a little,” Ubah recalls. “They reminded me I wasn’t alone in this.”

Little by little, Mahad grew stronger. After a week, he no longer needed the feeding tube and could drink the special milk from a cup Ubah gently poured. He started to gain weight – a few hundred grams that felt to Ubah like a great victory. His cough subsided and his eyes, once dull, now followed Ubah when she moved. The day he wrapped his tiny fingers around Ubah’s hand was the day the nurses declared he was out of immediate danger. Ubah’s relief was so overwhelming that she wept tears of joy. “I wish my sister could see him now,” she says, smiling through tears. “He’s alive, and he’s going to be okay.”