The Eyes Have It

My son, his pupils dilated, squinted at the giant E projected onto the wall.

Slipping one foot out of my sandal, I wiggled my toes.  "How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Mom, behave."  He grinned sheepishly.

This annual pilgrimage to the ophthalmologist was a reminder of the eye surgery Cody underwent to prevent retinopathy of prematurity.  Each year his precious sight worsened bit by bit.

Six painful years of infertility preceded the conception of my firstborn.  While praying for a baby, I devoured parenting magazines.  However, none of the experts prepared me for the jolt of the NICU experience and the subsequent fireworks of love and joy.

When Cody was nine, we revisited the NICU where he lived the first 3.5 months of his life.  Dr. Krauss drank in my son's skinny stature and shock of dirt-blonde hair.

"I remember when you were this small," Dr. Krauss said, cupping his hands.  He cracked open the door to the bustling NICU.  I recalled that cold December day in 1994, the paralyzing fear, as I gazed down at Cody for the first time.  The sign on his incubator announced:  "1 lb, 6 oz."

Peering into the NICU, Cody was awestruck.  "It's like a science lab!"

Dr. Krauss said softly, "He's a miracle."

After coming home from the hospital, Cody sprinted into our house.

"Dad, guess what!" Cody exclaimed.  "I met the man who saved my life!  And I want to be just like him!"

I snapped back to the present as the ophthalmologist entered the room.

"Good news!  No change in his prescription."

Cody handed him a stick.  "I whittled this for you."

The stick was smooth, the size of a pencil.  No small feat for someone as near-sighted as Cody, a gold-medalist jumping hurdles of developmental delays.

"What a fine job, buddy!" Dr. Adams said.

I remember Cody at six months, elastic straps around his tiny head pulling his first pair of glasses snug against his nose.  His sky-blue eyes, their beauty magnified by prescription lens, lingered on me, his mommy who had prayed for six long years, prayed for Cody Travis Oliver to complete this family.

He couldn't articulate a simple sentence, much less "Mommy," until he was almost four years old.  But those adoring eyes, those eyes communicated tribal wisdom, old world charm, love of all ages.  Deep, abiding, unwavering pools of love.  Indeed, those eyes have it.