On June 11th, our world shifted in the most unexpected way. I was looking at my beautiful daughter when I noticed something strange—a reflective glare in her right eye that didn’t seem right. It was subtle, but as her mother, I just knew. Something deep inside me whispered that this was more.
Trusting my mother’s intuition, I rushed to get her checked. I explained everything to the doctor and even showed videos that captured what I had seen. But my concerns were brushed aside. She told me it was just a glare, probably from sunlight, and sent us home without without conducting a proper eye exam—no dilation, no real look into what I was so afraid of.
Still, I couldn’t rest. That voice inside me wouldn’t go quiet. I knew my baby needed help.
I went for a second opinion, hoping someone would finally listen. This time, the doctor didn’t dismiss me—she looked me in the eyes, heard the fear in my voice, and acted immediately. She dilated my daughter’s eyes and began a full exam. And that’s when everything changed.
One week later, we were sitting in a room receiving the kind of news no parent is ever prepared for: retinoblastoma, a rare eye cancer, stage D. I remember feeling like the ground had disappeared beneath me. I held my daughter tighter than ever before, terrified of what this would mean for her.
Our daughter now faces a long and difficult journey. She will need monthly chemotherapy and laser treatments in Denver for approximately a year. We are doing everything in our power to save her eye and, more importantly, her life.
We are holding on to hope with everything we have—but we can’t do it alone. We are asking, with hearts wide open, for help. Whether it’s a donation, a share, a prayer, or simply holding space for us in your thoughts—it all matters.
From the bottom of our hearts, thank you.
