|My son was born with an undiagnosed syndrome. This single event has ever changed me, so much so that it is hard to even remember what life used to be like.
Words like microphthalmia were never a part of my everyday vocabulary. Conversations surrounding the technicalities of pediatric cataract surgery have now become common place. I have explained to complete strangers the struggles of putting contact lenses in and out of an infant's eyes and in the same breath gave reassurance that anyone can live happily with one functioning kidney. I used to keep my life private and locked away, but now, if given the chance, I will spill out my son's life story to blank faced stock boys who slowly back away to hide behind their rows of split pea soup.
I feel compelled, forced by some unseen hand, to talk about my son and the struggles we have endured. It's both maddening and therapeutic. The restraint it takes to not write an itemized list of defects/struggles right here and now is troublesome. Instead I'll write about his eyes.
Born clouded and blind
The grey wool was pulled over
Your elephant eyes