The first 2 photos here are at his first birthday party....
that's Grandma standing next to him!
This photo was a week after his 1st birthday,
he auditioned for a Teddy Grahams campaign.
He was 9 months old in the following 2 photos.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
As a baby
As a baby, Steven was beautiful!
I'd get stopped in malls, grocery stores and other public places
so that people could see him, they would always comment on
how beautiful he was. He was so pretty some people thought
he was a girl....lol!
I was really so proud of my little guy!
You will always be my first love.
You, you, you. You're the one who burst my heart wide open.
You taught me what wild, uncontrollable, unlimited, unconditional love feels like.
You changed everything. You turned me into a mom.
You're the first one to make me forget myself.
You're the first person I ever said
"I love you" to more than 10 times in one day.
You're the first human whose temperature I took, whose nose I wiped, and whose
projectile vomit I was too tired to clean up and just sort of slept in.
You. You were my first, and only, newborn, infant, toddler and preschooler --
and you're the one who continues to surprise me every day.
You're the intrepid explorer who pulls me by the hand into the future.
You're in all my thoughts and dreams, and every wish I make upon a star.
You, you, you. You will always be my first love.
You taught me what wild, uncontrollable, unlimited, unconditional love feels like.
You changed everything. You turned me into a mom.
You're the first one to make me forget myself.
You're the first person I ever said
"I love you" to more than 10 times in one day.
You're the first human whose temperature I took, whose nose I wiped, and whose
projectile vomit I was too tired to clean up and just sort of slept in.
You. You were my first, and only, newborn, infant, toddler and preschooler --
and you're the one who continues to surprise me every day.
You're the intrepid explorer who pulls me by the hand into the future.
You're in all my thoughts and dreams, and every wish I make upon a star.
You, you, you. You will always be my first love.
Dear Steven
Dear Steven,
I used to rock you in my arms when you were a baby and imagine the man
you'd become. You would be popular, but not too popular. You'd be smart,
witty, independent and funny. You would be a natural leader. I knew you'd
always be handsome.
You would be everything I wasn't -- everything I never had the chance or
courage to be. You would be perfectly unlike me in every way. You would be
better than me.
As you know, I have made a lot of mistakes in my life. I had no doubt I was
the perfect person to raise you to make better choices and suffer less.
I had fool-proof plans to help you identify and maneuver yourself around the
potholes I fell into.
I was going to help ensure your happiness and success, and I had no doubt you
would let me help you.
What I didn't count on was how much you would grow up to be just like me.
I was ill-prepared for confrontation with my own brand of stubbornness and
sarcasm. I didn't expect to have to fight so hard for the right to help you
through some of life's difficult moments. I didn't envision rejection in
response to my selfless offers to guide you, to mold you into that amazing
man I knew you could be.
I couldn't see how selfish and closed-minded those ideas were. I thought I was
trying to help you. I didn't think of the possibility that you were
better-equipped to make the right choices I didn't at your age.
There were many times when I over-identified with what you were facing. I
swear it wasn't on purpose or to take away from your feelings, but I know it
did. I thought if I could just convince you that I knew, that I understood you,
then you would trust me more and fight me less. Having had some time to
reflect, I understand now how that might have minimized your feelings and
individuality. I swear to you, I didn't see it that way at the time.
I know there were times you believe I failed as your mother. I've worried
about that possibility every day since you were born. Being a mom is hard...
and sometimes beyond terrifying. There's no manual or script to follow. I
often parented by Braille, just feeling my way around for answers to questions
I didn't know how to ask. The frustration and fear I felt, not always knowing
what you needed and/or how to help you, left me feeling useless.
I know there were times you hated me. The truth is, there were times I hated
you, too. Not because I didn't love you, but because I loved you too much. No
one in my life has ever challenged me the way you have. I wasn't prepared to
look at some of the things, in myself, you mirrored back at me. I didn't
realize that your becoming like me wasn't the worst thing that could happen.
I haven't always valued myself -- the choices I've made, the woman I've become
-- and I struggled with the irony.
I always thought being a good mother meant it was my job to shape you into a
good person, to make sure you took the right path. I think that idea made it
impossible for me to let go -- to accept your choices when I didn't agree. I
got scared when you became the independent person I always wanted you to be,
and I let my fear keep me from celebrating that independence and trusting your
judgment. That is where I failed you.
I wish I had listened more -- like, really listened -- for what you were
trying to say, instead of translating it into how I could help you.
I wish I had trusted in both of us more -- in our abilities to handle
situations, no matter how baffling -- because we were always stronger than I
thought.
The last 3 years of our relationship have tested my patience, beliefs,
boundaries and sanity.
You have blamed me for all that has gone wrong in life, mine and yours.
You could not be more wrong. I stand by this now and always will.
Sometimes when life gives you but 2 choices, bad or worse, you choose
the one that you think will cause less strife.
Of all the good times and the good things I did you seem to only
want to remember the mistakes I made.
You have deserted me at a time in my life when I should be enjoying
family and all that goes along with that. I am entering into what
people call the "golden years" alone. And I am scared.
You have alienated me from your life and all that have anything
to do with you. I see it daily.
You hide me in shame...I dont know why. I am a good person, with faults.
I can't put into words how sad you have made me with this turn of
events you put in motion. I cannot stress how lonely you have made me.
WHY? I would have done anything to be the mother you wanted, but instead
you closed me off to go have a life while I have been left with nothing.
I dont say these thing in anger, only in sadness.
All I wanted was to see those babies and be a grandma.
Aren't grandkids supposed to be kind of like a "do over?"
You even took that away from me. Your words cut deeper this time.
And I am not sure what to do at this point.
All I know is I am alone and scared.
I want you to know that you were the purpose of my life,
Out of everything I did I had hoped it, and all things, would turn out right.
I never want this to go unsaid...there are no words to express how
much you mean to me.
Please do not ever forget---
You will always have a piece of my heart.
I used to rock you in my arms when you were a baby and imagine the man
you'd become. You would be popular, but not too popular. You'd be smart,
witty, independent and funny. You would be a natural leader. I knew you'd
always be handsome.
You would be everything I wasn't -- everything I never had the chance or
courage to be. You would be perfectly unlike me in every way. You would be
better than me.
As you know, I have made a lot of mistakes in my life. I had no doubt I was
the perfect person to raise you to make better choices and suffer less.
I had fool-proof plans to help you identify and maneuver yourself around the
potholes I fell into.
I was going to help ensure your happiness and success, and I had no doubt you
would let me help you.
What I didn't count on was how much you would grow up to be just like me.
I was ill-prepared for confrontation with my own brand of stubbornness and
sarcasm. I didn't expect to have to fight so hard for the right to help you
through some of life's difficult moments. I didn't envision rejection in
response to my selfless offers to guide you, to mold you into that amazing
man I knew you could be.
I couldn't see how selfish and closed-minded those ideas were. I thought I was
trying to help you. I didn't think of the possibility that you were
better-equipped to make the right choices I didn't at your age.
There were many times when I over-identified with what you were facing. I
swear it wasn't on purpose or to take away from your feelings, but I know it
did. I thought if I could just convince you that I knew, that I understood you,
then you would trust me more and fight me less. Having had some time to
reflect, I understand now how that might have minimized your feelings and
individuality. I swear to you, I didn't see it that way at the time.
I know there were times you believe I failed as your mother. I've worried
about that possibility every day since you were born. Being a mom is hard...
and sometimes beyond terrifying. There's no manual or script to follow. I
often parented by Braille, just feeling my way around for answers to questions
I didn't know how to ask. The frustration and fear I felt, not always knowing
what you needed and/or how to help you, left me feeling useless.
I know there were times you hated me. The truth is, there were times I hated
you, too. Not because I didn't love you, but because I loved you too much. No
one in my life has ever challenged me the way you have. I wasn't prepared to
look at some of the things, in myself, you mirrored back at me. I didn't
realize that your becoming like me wasn't the worst thing that could happen.
I haven't always valued myself -- the choices I've made, the woman I've become
-- and I struggled with the irony.
I always thought being a good mother meant it was my job to shape you into a
good person, to make sure you took the right path. I think that idea made it
impossible for me to let go -- to accept your choices when I didn't agree. I
got scared when you became the independent person I always wanted you to be,
and I let my fear keep me from celebrating that independence and trusting your
judgment. That is where I failed you.
I wish I had listened more -- like, really listened -- for what you were
trying to say, instead of translating it into how I could help you.
I wish I had trusted in both of us more -- in our abilities to handle
situations, no matter how baffling -- because we were always stronger than I
thought.
The last 3 years of our relationship have tested my patience, beliefs,
boundaries and sanity.
You have blamed me for all that has gone wrong in life, mine and yours.
You could not be more wrong. I stand by this now and always will.
Sometimes when life gives you but 2 choices, bad or worse, you choose
the one that you think will cause less strife.
Of all the good times and the good things I did you seem to only
want to remember the mistakes I made.
You have deserted me at a time in my life when I should be enjoying
family and all that goes along with that. I am entering into what
people call the "golden years" alone. And I am scared.
You have alienated me from your life and all that have anything
to do with you. I see it daily.
You hide me in shame...I dont know why. I am a good person, with faults.
I can't put into words how sad you have made me with this turn of
events you put in motion. I cannot stress how lonely you have made me.
WHY? I would have done anything to be the mother you wanted, but instead
you closed me off to go have a life while I have been left with nothing.
I dont say these thing in anger, only in sadness.
All I wanted was to see those babies and be a grandma.
Aren't grandkids supposed to be kind of like a "do over?"
You even took that away from me. Your words cut deeper this time.
And I am not sure what to do at this point.
All I know is I am alone and scared.
I want you to know that you were the purpose of my life,
Out of everything I did I had hoped it, and all things, would turn out right.
I never want this to go unsaid...there are no words to express how
much you mean to me.
Please do not ever forget---
You will always have a piece of my heart.
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