Seth was on the Teacups. I was still on the Tornado.

“Home is where you are loved the most and act the worst.”
― Marjorie Pay Hinckley

I remember that first year of Oli's life being full of incredible pain and sadness. I remember wishing that she was older so I could just get past all of those feelings. I thought that she would just hit some magical age and all of those feelings would just disappear in an instant.

"If only she was 6 months old..."

Then she turned 6 months. Nope. The pain was still there.

"If only she was 1..."  Nope.

I couldn't understand why I just couldn't get over it? 

Seth made a comment when Oli was about 6 months old that he was so glad the first 6 months were over because he felt so much better.  The roar of our wild roller coaster ride had dulled to the excitement of the Teacups.

I looked at him and smiled.

"Yes. Me too. I feel the same way."

I didn't feel that way at all. Not one tiny bit.  I felt exactly the same as the moment when the doctor said she didn't have any eyes. 

I...was stuck.

I feel like I missed enjoying Oli as a baby because I spent every waking moment worrying about her.

When she turned 1 and it was time for her to get her eyes I thought that, that would be the moment I had been waiting for.  She would get eyes and everything would be right with the world again. 

Nope.  It didn't happen then either.

Don't get me wrong, it helped.  Once her eyes were painted, I didn't feel like I had to hide her in her car seat when we went out to avoid the stares and the comments.

It made it a little bit better, but it turned out that it wasn't her appearance that was bothering me.  She was beautiful either way. 

The first couple of days after she got her first pair of painted conformers was a mixture of highs and lows.

(Her first pair fit perfectly and were not crooked.) The moment Beverly put them in and turned Oli around to face us was incredible.  Suddenly my girl had perfect, beautiful blue eyes.

She had eyes.

We couldn't stop staring at her, turning her this way and that.  Examining her face from every possible angle.  Oli had a funny look on her face, feeling the emotion in the room.

"Oh, Oli.  Look at you! Look at your eyes baby!  You're so beautiful!"  I gushed over her and cried with emotion.

We got back into the car and started the drive back to Las Vegas.  Oli was still in a car seat facing the back seat so I couldn't see her face when I turned around to check on her.  I found myself making up excuses to stop the car.   Suddenly I had an attack of the munchies, the thirsties, and needed 10 bathroom breaks on the drive home.  Of course I had to take Oli out with me. (Even though Seth was still in the car.) I would get her out of her seat, pick her up, and then spend 5 minutes just staring.  It was an amazing day.

The next morning the rush of that high faded and I began my descent to another low.

They had given her a pair of eyes, but she still couldn't see me with them.

My girl still couldn't see.