The Boy with the Blueberry Eyes

“The boy with the blueberry eyes,” said Gramma, “that’s what he is.” I had never thought of it before, but blueberry perfectly describes the color of Benjamin’s blue eyes. Imagine those deep blue-colored berries sold in the grocer’s market isle, and that is exactly the shade of blue. He was born with muddy-water hair and blue-water eyes, and many said his eyes would change over time and likely become brown. Six months later, they have only become more striking in color. While his dark brown hair has given way to a new crop of soft blonde, his eyes remain constant … a deep beautiful blue.

This blueberry eyed boy is my six-month-old son, Benjamin, the child I never imagined I would actually have. I couldn’t be more delighted or feel more blessed that this little man is in my life. I’m thirty-nine years old and I’m finally a mom. Each week spent with him only gets better. I remember telling Benjamin’s dad, my husband of three and a half years, Bob, “four months old is the best,” and then “five months old is even better,” but now I see clearly that six months old is the most fun yet. Benjamin smiles and laughs constantly, while shrieking and squealing with joy at everything from the ceiling fans, to the dog (who still ignores him), to daddy’s peek-a-boo games, and to mommy’s songs and dances. He is, and always has been, a sweet child, good natured and pleasant, with a happy disposition. I think this time at home with him is the best season of my life.   

As I cherish our days together, I see that Benjamin is already changing and growing and leaving his early baby days behind us. I find myself looking back with longing, missing those precious moments after a bottle. With his tiny face nestled into my neck, his rhythmic sleepy breathing, and his soft baby smell, he brought me a peace and tranquility I have never known. I didn’t know the last time he settled in for a little rest would be the last time. How I wish I had known to savor the moment. Now when he finishes a bottle and gazes sleepily at me and I press him towards me and ask, “go sleep on mommy’s shoulder?” He arches his back in protest, preferring the solitude of his crib, with his Lovie, his Binky, and the sounds of his rainforest toy. How can I compete? He is such a big boy now.