I am legally blind, but I can see.

Outside the window, the sky appeared to be black, but the crickets were louder, gradually replacing the human sounds that were receding behind the hospital room door. I lay sick and powerless in one of the hospital rooms, where the light was still turned on. I was still a very little infant being treated for vomiting at the time. A pedestal near the foot of my bed held an IV bottle. The hose dangles down, allowing the liquid in the bottle to pass over my little feet.

Mommy was restless, more specifically anxious near my bed. Mom would sometimes wake up to check the IV bottle, then return to stroking my small forehead to see whether my temperature had gone down. The wall clock read 12:00 a.m. It's getting late in the evening. Suddenly, I burst out crying. Mom, get up. My eyeballs rolled upwards as my eyelids opened wide. My mother was astonished to see my condition and instantly hurried out of the room, shouting for the doctor. "Doctor……..! Nurse….!" Mommy shouted in fear.

Soon after, a doctor rushed to my bedside. I'm still sobbing, but my eyes aren't rolling up. My temperature was promptly taken by the doctor. And it turns out that I was still considered safe.

"Don't be concerned, Mom. Everything is in order." With a smile, the doctor said.

Mom let out a sigh of relief. His hand went out and raised my small body from the bed so that I could be rocked. The warmth of my mother's embrace gradually calmed my tears, and I fell asleep in her arms.

The doctor released me to my mother two days later.

My mother described me as a newborn who couldn't eat. Every time I was fed, I vomited it up.

Until mum discovered a method for food to enter my stomach one day. Mom hurriedly poured in a milk bottle with a blended mixture of oatmeal, milk, fruits, and vegetables when she noticed my eyes going weary and almost falling asleep. Mommy hurriedly inserted it into my mouth. I gulp the contents of the bottle, half-conscious, till my stomach is full. Finally, I dozed off.

Mom walked into the room one day and yelled in amazement when she discovered me resting on the floor alongside the bed, not weeping. Maybe I fell to the floor after breaking past the safety barrier that mama had built around the bed with a pile of bolsters. I was still a little, healthy infant at the time. And my eyes were still clear and gorgeous at the moment, just like any other baby's.

Without realizing it, I began to transform into a tiny young girl, my motions becoming nimble, eager, and I began to run here and there. At the moment, I was struck by the beauty of childhood's universe.

I was the second of three siblings to be born. I have a younger sister and an elder brother. I was born to two healthy parents who were physically flawless, didn't lack anything, and there was nothing wrong with my parents' marriage, such as a marital tie between siblings, an unexpected pregnancy, no lineage, blindness, or anything else. My parents are in terrific health as well.

However, as I approached the start of primary school (I was around 6 years old at the time), I began to exhibit unusual behavior. Even while my eyes can still see very far away and I can still walk without being assisted, my vision is becoming hazy. I have poor vision. I have to be less than one meter away to see someone's face or even watch television. I had to bring the book closer to my face, especially while my mother was teaching me to read, so I could see the letters well. My parents became concerned about my condition as a result of these weird occurrences. They become perplexed, scared, and depressed. I'm not sure what happened to me now.

Mommy brought me to the eye doctor right away. First and foremost, an ophthalmologist in Sukabumi, my birthplace. I was treated like a guinea pig at the ophthalmologist, with several lens sizes ranging from thin to thick, the lens shaped like a bottle cap and then fitted to my eye. However, these attempts were futile and had no positive consequences. In fact, the thicker the lens, the blurrier my eyesight. I was perplexed as to why the doctor couldn't diagnose my ailment. What exactly occurred to me? What's the matter with my eyes? What's the matter with me?

My parents continued to set aside time to accompany me to Jakarta for therapy with all their strength, diligently, and with tremendous excitement. We've seen seven physicians. We don't know where else to go from East Jakarta, West Jakarta, South Jakarta, North Jakarta, or Central Jakarta. We went to the eye doctor one by one. We've seen several eye doctors. However, none of them produced satisfactory results. We finally arrived at the last doctor we saw. My eyes will progressively grow blind, according to the doctor. Mom was told by the doctor, "You should enroll your child in SLBA (special school for the blind) because his or her eyes will gradually become blind."

The doctor's remarks struck like lightning in broad daylight. My folks were taken aback when they learned this. They had no idea their second kid would go blind. My parents' entire bodies became limp. The eye doctor's statements gave us no hope.

My parents were dumbfounded on the way home from the ophthalmologist. Their expressions revealed a deep sadness that could not be communicated in words.

"Oh, Lord, what became of our child?" What is the problem with our child? What is going on with our child? "What went wrong?"

They didn't say a single thing. The well-known Mommy is a chatterbox. Normally, there is always plenty to chat about, but mum is suddenly deafeningly silence. Mama's expression is sorrowful and dissatisfied. Mommy was sobbing quietly. His eyes were swollen and red.

I just heard what the doctor mentioned regarding special schools when I was at the ophthalmologist's office. I didn't comprehend what he meant at the moment. What exactly is SLBA? What exactly is a special school? The statements of the ophthalmologist were utterly unintelligible to me.

"What's wrong with my eyes, ma'am?" I asked innocently.

Mommy remained silent did not answer my question.

Not long after, mom finally answered my question.

I wonder what answer mom gave me, look forward to it in the next chapter.

"What's the matter with my eyes, ma'am?" I inquired innocently.

Mommy was silent and did not respond to my query.

Mom eventually answered my inquiry not long after.

"Oh, you have an eye disorder."

"What kind of eye disorder do you have, ma'am?" I inquired innocently.

"Well, your eyes aren't like other youngsters'. You can't see anything clearly." Respond to Mom

My intellect is trying hard to discover a solution, but I still don't comprehend. Since then, the fact that I have an eye disease has been etched in my mind and psyche. I'm sad, but not in the way that Mommy is. My mother's sobbing became more often in the room after that day.

"No! "I disagree that my child will attend SLBA!" refused fiercely. After hearing my mother's account regarding the doctor's suggestion, my father flatly refused to allow me attend SLBA school. Not only