IF YOU START WITH THE OLDEST POST, IT READS LIKE A BOOK. (Mostly) A BOOK. (Mostly)


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Thursday, December 20, 2012

It was blue.

"There is no better way to thank God for your sight than by giving a helping hand to someone in the dark." -Helen Keller


The first night at home with Oli I did what I always do with my babies. I gave her a bath. She was so tiny and sweet. I washed her little arms and legs. Her little round head covered with blond fuzz that I was so excited about. Kekoa had been born without a single hair on his head. I washed her petite nose and her small eyes that still had not opened.
 
I just wanted her to open her eyes.
 
When they did the CT at the hospital the doctors told me that both of her eyes were extremely small. The left measured only in the 10th percentile of normal. The right was half the size of the left. We would later see that her right eye was really just an empty socket. What they saw on the CT was only a bit of underdeveloped tissue located behind her socket.

I knew that her left eye probably wouldn't look like a normal eye but, I still needed to see it.
A mother needs to inspect every single part of her new baby.
I felt like I was being cheated out of that right as her mother.
No matter what it looked like, I needed to see it.

After her bath that night I tried to fill out the information in her baby book.   A pink baby book.   A book that I had spent a lot of time searching for. It had to be the perfect book because when I bought it at 8 months pregnant, I knew my daughter would love to read through it someday. Just like I still like to look through my baby book.
 
I started filling out the questions.
 
What time was she born?
How much did she weigh?
How long was she?
 
Then I got to a question that made my heart drop.
 
What color were her eyes?
 
My eyes filled with tears.
 
I don't know.
I don't know what color her eyes are.
Why can't she just open her eyes?
Why can't I do something to help her?

I still hate that book. I haven't look at it in years. I hate it because I remember sitting in my brown rocking chair by the window. I remember reading that question and feeling incredibly small and useless.
 
I hate that book for making me feel like I was useless to my daughter.
 
She finally opened her left eye 2 days later.
She was 4 days old.
 
It didn't look normal. It was small and underdeveloped. It had a tiny blue iris that danced around in her head.
 
I knew that she couldn't see me with it. When she opened her eye I knew that my daughter would never see me.
 
But, to me, it was beautiful.
 
I was finally going to be able to write down in her baby book what color her eyes were.
 
It was blue.

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