I was overwhelmed. So many conditions in one little child. He said there was no support for us, no operation that could correct it at the moment. His advice was to take her home and pray.
I felt dead inside hearing those words. I could not tell my wife immediately. She was nursing Naomi’s little sister at that time, and I did not want to break her spirit. We collected the medical report and went home, holding on only to faith.
That night, I made a promise to myself. I swore I would give Naomi every support she needed, that I would make sure she found comfort, and that I would search for the best help available anywhere.
When we returned home, I went straight to the internet and started searching for answers. I typed “Coloboma” again and again, desperate to understand what it meant for my daughter. The more I read, the heavier my heart became.
What I found out is that Coloboma is a rare eye condition that happens when a part of the eye does not form properly during pregnancy. It can affect different parts of the eye, including the iris, the retina, the choroid, or the optic nerve.
In some children, when the iris is affected, there is a visible “keyhole” shape at the front of the eye. But in Naomi’s case, her iris was not affected, so there was no visible keyhole. Her coloboma was at the back of her eyes, affecting the retina and the optic nerve. This type is more serious because it impacts vision directly and cannot be seen from the outside.
Coloboma can lead to reduced vision, blind spots, and sensitivity to light. In many children, it is also linked with strabismus and nystagmus, both of which Naomi already had. I also learned that there is no cure yet. Glasses may provide some support, but they cannot repair the damage.
I searched further and found that in countries like the UK and the US there are associations and support groups for children with Coloboma. Families come together to share their stories, find guidance, and lean on each other. But in Nigeria, I found nothing. No association. No awareness. Not even conversations about the condition.
That night I felt alone. Alone as a father carrying news I could not even share with my wife immediately. Alone as a parent searching for hope where there was none. I was filled with silent tears, but I stayed strong. Because if Naomi was going to face this condition, then I would face it with her.

The moment a parent becomes a researcher and an advocate is a turning point. Your promise to Naomi to find the help she needs despite the lack of local resources is the most powerful form of love there is. Thanks to you and your Partner. Love from here.
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