Our beloved daughter came into this world in December 2022, just days before Christmas. For us, she was the most precious gift we could have ever dreamed of — tiny, fragile, and beautiful, wrapped in the wonder of new life. Her first cries filled us with joy, her little hands grasped our fingers, and we felt as though the world had finally given us the miracle we longed for.

But joy can sometimes be fragile, and ours was interrupted far too soon.

When Lenka was three months old, we noticed a small dot near her pupil. At first, we wanted to believe it was nothing — just a quirk, something harmless. But our hearts told us otherwise, and so we made an appointment with a doctor in Gdańsk. What we learned that day changed everything.

The doctors discovered that Lenka had a cyst on the pigmented epithelium of her iris. The diagnosis was frightening, but there was no time to waste. A surgery date was set immediately, and we clung to the hope that this procedure would mark the end of our nightmare. We told ourselves that soon, things would be better.

But life rarely follows our expectations.

The surgery was only the beginning. Instead of closing this painful chapter, it opened the door to a long and uncertain road. Lenka’s eye did not heal the way it was supposed to. During the next procedure, her pupil became distorted. Then, the stitches burst. The pupil itself spread and leaked, and once again we found ourselves back in the hospital in Gdańsk, sitting in sterile corridors, waiting for doctors to come out with news we feared but could not ignore.

It was then we learned the words that will forever echo in our minds: “Your daughter’s eye is very pathological.” The condition was worsening. A cataract had developed, and an artificial lens had to be implanted immediately.

The next three months were a torment for our little girl. She rubbed at her eye constantly, repeating in her tiny voice: “Mama, dark. Mama, dark.” Hearing those words from our child broke something inside us. No parent is prepared to hear their baby cry out about a world that is turning dark before their eyes.

Our determination became our only weapon. With every ounce of strength we had, we sought answers, pushing forward even when it meant putting Lenka through yet another procedure under general anesthesia. More examinations were carried out, and they revealed alarming abnormalities inside her eye. Once again, we were forced to search for new help, new hope.

This time, we found it in Warsaw. There, the doctors performed another operation — removing a secondary cataract in an attempt to restore even minimal vision. For a short while, it seemed as though the storm had passed. Her eye healed well after the surgery. We allowed ourselves to exhale, just a little.

But hope is fragile, and once again, it was shattered.

Without warning, her eye began to swell and close. Lenka complained of pain, her tiny face twisted in discomfort that no child should have to endure. Tests revealed something we feared: on her iris, a massive cyst was growing at an alarming rate.

The doctors acted quickly. They removed the cyst, but because of where it was located, they could not extract it fully. And so the shadow of fear lingers.

The truth is devastating — the cyst may return. If it does, Lenka’s eye could lose all function. If that happens, further surgeries will not help. The only option left would be to remove her eye entirely. This is the darkest possibility, one we cannot bear to imagine, one we fight every day to keep from becoming reality.

As of today, Lenka has already endured six surgeries. She is only a toddler, yet her young life has been filled with hospital beds, anesthesia, and the pain of procedures that most adults could scarcely endure. And this is not the end. More surgeries lie ahead.

Every day, we take her to vision therapy, funded by a public program. But it is not enough. She needs more frequent sessions if she is to have a chance at better vision and development. And beyond therapy, there are the countless expenses — medications, specialized equipment, travel to and from hospitals, and the constant medical oversight her condition requires.

The costs are overwhelming. Each bill feels like another mountain to climb, and with every passing month, the weight grows heavier. And yet, we have no choice. We are her parents. We will fight for her future, no matter the cost.

Eyes are the windows to the world. Through them, a child sees love, joy, laughter, and discovery. Without them, the world becomes smaller, darker, lonelier. We cannot bear the thought of Lenka losing her chance to experience the beauty of life, to see the faces of those who love her, to explore the colors and wonders around her.

Lenka deserves a future filled with light. She deserves the chance to run into the sunshine, to see the sky, to look into her parents’ eyes and know she is safe and loved. But for that to happen, we need help.

We are humbly asking for your support. Every contribution — no matter how small — makes a difference. Every act of kindness brings us closer to giving Lenka the care she needs. Your donation can pay for therapies, for travel to specialists, for equipment that will allow her to develop like other children. Your help can protect her future, her sight, her chance at a normal childhood.

We believe in the power of compassion, in the strength of community, in the hope that comes when people stand together for a child’s life.

Lenka’s journey is not only ours — it belongs to everyone who chooses to help. Every share of her story, every prayer, every word of encouragement, and every donation becomes part of the fight to give her the tomorrow she deserves.

Our hearts are full of gratitude for every person who chooses to walk with us. Please, help us keep Lenka’s eyes open to the world.

Together, we can give her the gift of sight, the gift of light, and the gift of hope.

With love and eternal gratitude,
Lenka’s Parents

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