Wednesday, October 14, 2015
My baby turned four months old on Monday.
He has blue eyes.
I know blue is just another color for eyes but out of all of our extended family members and our five other kids, he and my mom are the only two with them.
All of us, we are a sea of chocolate brown and hazel. But not Joe. He's got blue.
This means a lot to me for all the standard cuteness reasons but mostly for one big, huge, important reason and that is that he is a sixth baby. And sixth babies are not common anymore. Sixth babies are rare. And they are a little terrifying! The sixth baby catapults you into the zone of for real crazy when it comes to what is an "appropriate" family size in the modern day. Four kids is crazy, five is crazy-crazy, six is ... crazy. And many, many people never, ever get close to having a number six. Lucky for me, I did. He is my sixth baby and he has blue eyes.
And life is not easy! Some days are hard. Some days all I am left with is a desperate prayer to God to get us through it. But no matter how rough or wild life is, I can always look down into the eyes of this blue-eyed boy. The sixth. One I might never have had. The blue-eyed baby I might never had known. Someone totally unique, someone irreplaceable, someone who broke the mold.
I'll take all the difficult moments for him.
And when I see my kids all gathered around their baby, showering him with kisses and peppering the atmosphere with boisterous, flailing antics in a desperate attempt to get him to laugh, I know they would, too. They would take the tricky days for this blue-eyed boy. This sixth.