Dear Dr. DeVaro,

On November 26, 2008, I met you. I tried to make small talk as you entered my hospital room to exam my newborn daughter.

That morning I was told you were the best in town. That if anyone were to examine Lilah's eyes, you were the one I wanted. I was nervous about the exam, didn't know what we were facing, but trusted the professionals who told me to trust you and that you would take great care of my hours-old baby as you examined her in another room.

The decision you made to examine Lilah on my bed, in the room with me, scared me. I didn't have the strength, nor understanding of what you were about to do to her. I just remember hearing, "Don't watch what he does. Allow him to take her out and bring her back." But, I trusted your decision as the "best" in town as you sat down on my hospital bed and pronged my sweet Lilah's eyes open. Her screams were torturous to a new Mother's ears. I closed my eyes, laid my hands on her and prayed as you rolled her eyes around with what looked to me like dental utensils.

When the exam was over, you stood up and spoke a curse on Lilah, "God didn't make these eyes right." I remember because it has haunted me for 3.5 years.

"God didn't make them right?"

You went on to tell me how my child had Congenital Cornea Opacities and Peters Anomaly. That she would need multiple bi-lateral corneal transplants, that glaucoma would be her biggest worry, that we were "at the beginning of a VERY long road", and at "best she may only get one eye."

As I sat there bawling at your diagnosis, the words that came spewing from your mouth, like vomit to my ears. I never once heard a word of HOPE or encouragement. Never did we hear anything positive, or hopeful. No early intervention therapies were mentioned. Not even a , "Blind children walk, talk, dance, sing, climb Mt. Everest, get married, have children of their own." No, we were given a diagnosis and then that was it.

I even remember watching how you treated our nurse, thinking, "That wasn't even polite."

When you were done giving us the worst news we had even heard, you said, "See you in my office in two weeks."

And that was it.

But, through my weeping I didn't want to believe what you had said. I wanted to cling to some sort of hope. So, a week later as I noticed Lilah squinting in light, we came to see you. We were hopeful that maybe there was some vision forming. Immediately you shot us down and said, "No, this is an early sign of glaucoma, this sensitivity to light" and you prescribed drops to "help control her pressures."

A few weeks later we made our way to Atlanta for Lilah's first Corneal Specialist appointment.

We never saw you again. I couldn't face you. I was so hurt by your words, but more than that...I was hurt because you gave us no HOPE.

Fast forward to today. Lilah is 3. She has had ONE surgery. A Strabismus surgery to correct her right eye muscle. She has never had a corneal transplant. Her left eye has about 90% workable vision with some haze. Her right eye is still slowly clearing more ,and more "red eye" or red reflex shows through each year. Lilah is a miracle. Lilah is HOPE.

Dr. DeVaro,

I have been so angry with you. Hurt by your words, the way you spoke to us, spoke to the hospital staff, treated your very own staff in your building. I have held resentment for the last 3 years over your unkindness and your lack of compassion. I have been angry with you for delivering such harsh news. My actions, my behavior, and my thoughts have not been kind. My hatred toward you goes against everything I believe in. Hearing your name would send cringes down my spine.

I am now asking for your forgiveness.

I am choosing to forgive you for how you treated my child, the curse you laid on her, the way you spoke to me, the lack of compassion and care. I forgive you, Dr. John DeVaro.

I also want to thank you. My grief and sadness turned into major action for Lilah. For many others, as well. I am not your typical Mother. I have learned to fight hard. Because I wasn't given any information on early intervention therapies, Babies Can't Wait, Georgia PINES, Savannah Association of the Blind, O&M, and MUCH more...I have had to learn this on my own. Instead of sitting in that dark corner and crying, I am in full action mode. Lilah is in multiple therapies and has overcome tremendous hurdles. Not all Mom's are like me. I don't say this to brag. I say this as truth. Many Mothers listen only to what the Doctors say and are unaware of what is out there to help their child.

I am grateful that God used you as a tool to break me and teach me to fight like I should have for years.

My hope is that someday, somehow, this letter will get to you. That God will use it as a tool for you. To soften you, to help you speak kinder and gentler to your patients, to treat babies, children, their parents, hospital staff, and your own staff much better. I pray that when it is right, when you are ready, that this letter will be laid in your hands and that God will allow you to see how even through your poor actions and choices, a beautiful blessing has occurred.

I am going to commit to pray for you. With a sincere heart. With compassion. Knowing that you need God in your life. Knowing that as I pray for you, my thoughts have turned from hatred to compassion as I can see a man who needs Jesus just as much as I do.

Katie