Those Peepers

A year ago today, I met this little girl for the first time.


I just reread Drue's Birth Story for the first time since I wrote it. Seven pages single spaced, so I won't subject you to it. But the one thing that I wrote at the end that I said I never wanted to forget were her peepers.

We are one of those couples who sided with the the nurses, who said, "You'll want your sleep," and sent our baby to the nursery for the night. But they would wheel her back into our room every four hours to cuddle with me and eat, or try to (that took a few days to figure out), and when they did, I would shoot up in bed, pop out of my drug-induced haze, and just short of shout, with all my being, "The baby!" I was always so excited to see her; I could feel it in my toes. And when they would wheel her up, all wrapped up like a burrito and so tiny, the one thing I would notice first were her eyes. I could always tell that she had been crying, and my heart would break, but now she was still and silent, and her eyes were searching, searching, searching. She knew where she was going, and I ached to hold her. She was beautiful, perfect. A tiny, precious gift. And though I don't have the time to think of the best way to describe those peepers, know that the image is forever seered into my heart. My darling Drue, my little burrito with yearning eyes, you are loved.

And now she is one year old. We had a fantastic party today at Lions Park. I want to thank so many people...for helping, for being there, for loving our family and our dear Druebear. I was and remain humbled.

She is such a big girl now.




And after eating her Mary Poppins' hat cake, she wore her real birthday suit.