My Compass

Denver, Colorado

Since he came into the world, my firstborn has taught me about life. I worried about him, pushed him, and prayed for him. In the long run, it was me that I should have been concerned about because the son I had the privilege to raise has become one of the most impressive people I know and is one of the most significant relationships of my life.

I remember the moment exactly.

He was two days old, and we had just brought him home from the hospital. The house was full of family in the kitchen preparing dinner, and I sat alone in the living room to breastfeed my firstborn, my son. That was a challenge, as he was premature and thus not very good at it, and I was hurting. I hadn't had any real quiet time with him after 24 hours of hard labor and giving birth to him, but that night, after feeding and burping him, I laid his little, tiny body on my lap and stared at him. I studied him.

He was a beautiful newborn. I know every parent says that, but he truly was. He was starting to sleep, and I pulled him close to my chest, and that little man fell asleep with his arms on my shoulder. A first hug from my infant son, and I fell madly in love at that moment in time, in the quiet of that room.

As a first-time mother, I confess I didn’t know what I was doing. I was never a babysitter. I was an only child and had never really been around babies.

Granted, I took all of the available parenting, birthing, and safety classes before my son came along. But the actual baby is different than the dolls in the classes. So, while Stephen was learning to be a person, I was learning to be a mother. We have grown up together. I think he has taught me more than I ever taught him, and now, at the age of 23, he continues to change me with his grown-up perspectives and beliefs.

As a child, he was perfect for an inexperienced mother like me. As a toddler, he was all testosterone, which meant he ran. Everywhere. All the time. In circles around the house, he would end up on the kitchen floor doing his little version of a break dance. He ran us both ragged, making him a tremendous little napper so Mom could rest her tied body, too.

Oh, and he was smart! At nine months old, during a doctor’s appointment, he amazed Dr. Hand when he stacked up nine nesting cup. “You don’t understand, kids his age just don’t do that,” she said in awe. I just looked at her and said, “You don’t understand, it’s ALL he does. We can’t leave home without these cups.”

That was my first glimpse at the characteristics and intelligence that would define his life and how he lives it now.

Stephen has always had PHASES of interest, which made parenting him both easy and challenging at the same time. There was the “Thomas the Tank Engine” phase. Wholly immersed, obsessed, focused. By age two, he knew every train, person, movie, and storyline of every “Thomas the Tank Engine” character. His day began with trains on the kitchen table, and his days ended in a “Thomas the Tank Engine” bed.

Thomas the Tank Engine was the first of many obsessive phases in his young life. Next came “Power Rangers,” “Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles,” “Batman,” “Superman,” and “Star Wars.” Keeping this kid focused was not a problem. However, As he grew older, teaching him to live in the gray was a challenge. He was a black-and-white kid. Right and wrong. Good and bad.

Stephen has always been quiet and mature for his age. Even his fourth-grade teacher told him to get in a bit of trouble. This made him judgmental and intolerant at times when he was young. Trying to explain illogical human behavior to a logical child often failed because, many times, the rationale behind his judgments was hard to dispute. Teaching him that life is unfair was a daily task and understanding that took his entire youth to learn.

I admit that I worried about him, socially and emotionally. He was so quiet and serious. He could be quick to anger, yet I could sometimes see him holding his anger in, boiling like water in his veins. I constantly tried to pull him in another direction.

I made him dance with me around the family room, telling him, “Girls like guys that can dance. You’ll thank me one day!” He hated it. I planned special lunches with him to get him to talk. He often didn’t.

I drank beer with him during his senior year in high school so he would learn his limits and not go off half-cocked in college. I never missed the chance to drive alone in the car with him before he got his license because that’s where we had our best conversations. But I was still worried.

Turns out, I didn’t need to worry. Stephen has always been tall for his age. He stands at 6’ 3”. He has always had a presence about him, a calm confidence that I now realize should never have worried me because it is his strength.

My first glimpse of this was at a school event in his junior year, where he surprised me and stood up to speak before 250 people and was eloquent, sincere, and impressive. He did that at 18 at his swim team banquet after achieving his set goals of becoming a team captain, state champion, All-American, and a Wall of Fame member at his high school. I saw it at his grandfather’s funeral and my mother’s memorial service, when the little boy I worried about stood tall and proud and spoke beautifully from his heart.

Quiet? Yes. Shy? No. Socially awkward? Hell no.

It was his four years at Occidental College, where he graduated in May of 2013, which solidified his independence and brought him out of his shell. He continued to swim competitively. He joined a fraternity. He became a DJ. And, yes, I can proudly say he can dance!

He has always had a loyalty factor I don’t see even in adults. He never had a vast social circle, but his few friends remain his best friends to this day. He is a fabulous boyfriend, and I see the makings of a great husband. As a swim coach with little ones, I have seen a gentle, encouraging, loving example of a man. He will be a wonderful father.

Now, as an adult, he has influenced me. He stands by his beliefs and can defend them. They are hard to argue with most of the time because, like his reasons for being loyal to friends, he is equally dedicated to his convictions about his choices and thoughts. I stand changed because of many of them.

While my relationship with him is different from my “Chatty-Cathy” daughter Jessie, it is safe to say Stephen has become an anchor in my life—a rock. I call him my compass because whenever I feel lost or need to find clarity, I turn to Stephen. Sometimes I wonder now who is the adult and the child because he continues to teach me so much, as he has done his whole life.

And I still love the rare, occasional car ride, where the conversation and connection show me again what a unique and wise son I have. I have always believed he will do great things, even in small ways. And in his small way, he has made me a bigger and better person. That we share a special friendship as adults is all the sweeter.

I harken back to that day, to his first infant hug, and realize I have been falling in love with my son every day since.

My son, Stephen, is, and always will be, one of the greatest loves of my life.

Until next time,