Showing posts with label I believe I can fly. Show all posts
Aaron's song
Monday, 20 April 2009

Today I just feel like posting the words to one of Aaron's favourite songs of all time...it depicts his determination and spirit, we played it at his funeral and it brings tears of joy (and sometimes sadness) to many of his friends.
"I Believe I Can Fly"
I used to think that I could not go on
And life was nothing but an awful song
But now I know the meaning of true love
I'm leaning on the everlasting arms
If I can see it, then I can do it
If I just believe it, there's nothing to it
[1]
I believe I can fly
I believe I can touch the sky
I think about it every night and day
Spread my wings and fly away
I believe I can soar
I see me running through that open door
I believe I can fly
I believe I can fly
I believe I can fly
See I was on the verge of breaking down
Sometimes silence can seem so loud
There are miracles in life I must achieve
But first I know it starts inside of me, oh
If I can see it, then I can do it
If I just believe it, there's nothing to it
[Repeat 1]
Hey, cuz I believe in me, oh
If I can see it, then I can be it
If I just believe it, there's nothing to it
[Repeat 1]
Hey, if I just spread my wings
I can fly
I can fly
I can fly, hey
If I just spread my wings
I can fly
Fly-eye-eye
Posted in Aaron Stephenson, I believe I can fly, r kelly, songs by Sally's World | 8 comments
Email this postI Believe I Can Fly!
Wednesday, 11 March 2009
To everyone who asked to read a copy of Aaron’s book…thank you. xxx.
I put them in the post on Monday. For those people in the US, Canada and India, you may not be aware of the amazing thing we have called Royal Mail…it would probably be quicker to strap the book onto the back of a tortoise and let him make his way to you, but, as I had no tortoise to hand, I left your books safely in the hands of the Royal Mail system.
Of course, to all the British people who are waiting for a copy, they are well aware of the system and will not be expecting their books until the year 2011 anyway….
I’m kidding!
Actually, UK deliveries will be fairly quick, but the international deliveries may take up to 2 weeks.
But thank you so much for reading, I hope you love the book and enjoy getting to know Aaron, and remember, any aggressive behaviour on my part was only due to extreme stress in the face of professionals getting in my way!!! So please don’t judge me.
Take care
Sally & Aaron xxx
Posted in Aaron Stephenson, books, I believe I can fly, post, reading, royal mail, sally anne stephenson by Sally's World | 0 comments
Email this postThe Day I Met Aaron
Friday, 5 December 2008
As its Aaron’s birthday today, I thought it would be fitting to share the opening passage in his book with you.
The day I met Aaron!
It’s 3.17 am on Thursday the 5th December 1991 In Greenwich District hospital, London. After Twenty three and a half hours of labour, lots of kicking and screaming (me, not Aaron) the midwife finally bundled a tiny baby on my chest and I felt a rush of love like I never knew existed, fireworks went off in my chest, I’d just discovered the meaning of life. My son was here!
I knew something wasn’t right straight away, Aaron was very grey and he hadn’t cried yet, just as soon as I’d got my hands on him it seemed, the nurses whisked him back off me. There were people everywhere, doctors and nurses coming in and out of the room, lots of shouting, alarms going off. Not to mention the man at the end of the bed giving me so many stitches that I thought he was knitting a jumper. I thought he’d at least emerge with a pair of booties for the baby...nothing.
This isn’t what was supposed to be happening, we should all be crying with joy now, going all googly eyed over the top of our new babies head, meeting our new baby boy and counting his fingers and toes. Not hearing doctors saying that they couldn’t get him breathing, and asking each other how long he’d been down.
We waited for the longest seventeen minutes of our lives, Dave looked so scared, and I think I held my breath for the whole time, then; at last we heard a cry, it was the determined cry of the fighter my baby was about to have to become; and I just knew in my heart that everything was going to be o.k.
SCBU Special Care Baby Unit
The next couple of days were a blur of Special Care, wires, tubes and alarms. We were young, first time parents and completely bewildered by all the equipment, bleeps, and nurses. There were blood tests and brain scans and we couldn’t do a single thing. We used to sit there holding Aaron’s hands through the incubator doors, telling him how much we loved him, telling him how special he was, and willing him to be strong. He wasn’t a premature baby, like all the tiny ones in the other incubators, he was 9lb 1oz, he looked so healthy and chubby, so why was he here? What was going on?
Aaron had drips going into both his little arms, a tube going down his nose, a tube coming from his umbilical cord; he had a plastic box over his head with oxygen pumping into it, there were pads on his chest and probes of some sort on his finger and his toe. I had never even seen a baby in an incubator before, except on television. I didn’t really even know what all the wires and monitors were for, I just new my little boy was in there, in this plastic box, having things done to him that must have been hurting him. I was his Mum, he was mine, but I was powerless to stop it all. He must have been desperate for a cuddle, I know I was.
The doctors came round four or five times a day, whispering amongst themselves about our baby and the treatment he needed, us in our naivety not really realising we had the right to ask them exactly what they were saying, what they were going to do to make our baby well. Then they’d turn to us and tell us that he’d had a rough start and they would wait for him to improve, then they would all scuttle off again, move on to the next incubator, whisper about the next baby. We just thought that’s how it was.
My First Cuddle
I first held Aaron when he was two days old. A nurse had to take him out of the incubator and pass him to me, and we had to be careful of all the tubes and wires attached to him, I couldn’t quite believe that someone else had held my baby before I had, but as soon as he was in my arms, it didn’t matter. That was the most intense moment of my life, I fell in love with Aaron before he was even born, but this was the moment he tried to open his eyes and look at me, I made him a promise then and there that I would love him forever and keep him safe.
Before long I understood what all the monitors were for, the nurses were so lovely and explained everything as they were doing it. After the first couple of days, I was changing Aaron’s nappy and washing him, brushing his hair, none of it an easy task through the two small incubator doors! I got to cuddle him two or three times a day, we bonded just like any other mother and her first baby. It wasn’t quite how I imagined it, but things never always are.
I guess life never really turns out how you think it will. I never imagined when I had Aaron that he wouldn’t be here with me on all his birthdays, we just don’t expect to outlive our children do we…it’s not the natural order of things.
But here I am on his seventeenth birthday, missing him more than ever.
Take care
Sal xxx
Happy Birthday Aaron xxxxxx
The day I met Aaron!
It’s 3.17 am on Thursday the 5th December 1991 In Greenwich District hospital, London. After Twenty three and a half hours of labour, lots of kicking and screaming (me, not Aaron) the midwife finally bundled a tiny baby on my chest and I felt a rush of love like I never knew existed, fireworks went off in my chest, I’d just discovered the meaning of life. My son was here!
I knew something wasn’t right straight away, Aaron was very grey and he hadn’t cried yet, just as soon as I’d got my hands on him it seemed, the nurses whisked him back off me. There were people everywhere, doctors and nurses coming in and out of the room, lots of shouting, alarms going off. Not to mention the man at the end of the bed giving me so many stitches that I thought he was knitting a jumper. I thought he’d at least emerge with a pair of booties for the baby...nothing.
This isn’t what was supposed to be happening, we should all be crying with joy now, going all googly eyed over the top of our new babies head, meeting our new baby boy and counting his fingers and toes. Not hearing doctors saying that they couldn’t get him breathing, and asking each other how long he’d been down.
We waited for the longest seventeen minutes of our lives, Dave looked so scared, and I think I held my breath for the whole time, then; at last we heard a cry, it was the determined cry of the fighter my baby was about to have to become; and I just knew in my heart that everything was going to be o.k.
SCBU Special Care Baby Unit
The next couple of days were a blur of Special Care, wires, tubes and alarms. We were young, first time parents and completely bewildered by all the equipment, bleeps, and nurses. There were blood tests and brain scans and we couldn’t do a single thing. We used to sit there holding Aaron’s hands through the incubator doors, telling him how much we loved him, telling him how special he was, and willing him to be strong. He wasn’t a premature baby, like all the tiny ones in the other incubators, he was 9lb 1oz, he looked so healthy and chubby, so why was he here? What was going on?
Aaron had drips going into both his little arms, a tube going down his nose, a tube coming from his umbilical cord; he had a plastic box over his head with oxygen pumping into it, there were pads on his chest and probes of some sort on his finger and his toe. I had never even seen a baby in an incubator before, except on television. I didn’t really even know what all the wires and monitors were for, I just new my little boy was in there, in this plastic box, having things done to him that must have been hurting him. I was his Mum, he was mine, but I was powerless to stop it all. He must have been desperate for a cuddle, I know I was.
The doctors came round four or five times a day, whispering amongst themselves about our baby and the treatment he needed, us in our naivety not really realising we had the right to ask them exactly what they were saying, what they were going to do to make our baby well. Then they’d turn to us and tell us that he’d had a rough start and they would wait for him to improve, then they would all scuttle off again, move on to the next incubator, whisper about the next baby. We just thought that’s how it was.
My First Cuddle
I first held Aaron when he was two days old. A nurse had to take him out of the incubator and pass him to me, and we had to be careful of all the tubes and wires attached to him, I couldn’t quite believe that someone else had held my baby before I had, but as soon as he was in my arms, it didn’t matter. That was the most intense moment of my life, I fell in love with Aaron before he was even born, but this was the moment he tried to open his eyes and look at me, I made him a promise then and there that I would love him forever and keep him safe.
Before long I understood what all the monitors were for, the nurses were so lovely and explained everything as they were doing it. After the first couple of days, I was changing Aaron’s nappy and washing him, brushing his hair, none of it an easy task through the two small incubator doors! I got to cuddle him two or three times a day, we bonded just like any other mother and her first baby. It wasn’t quite how I imagined it, but things never always are.
I guess life never really turns out how you think it will. I never imagined when I had Aaron that he wouldn’t be here with me on all his birthdays, we just don’t expect to outlive our children do we…it’s not the natural order of things.
But here I am on his seventeenth birthday, missing him more than ever.
Take care
Sal xxx
Happy Birthday Aaron xxxxxx
Posted in Aaron Stephenson, babies, bereavement, birthdays, books, coping with loss, I believe I can fly, labour, motherhood, scbu by Sally's World | 0 comments
Email this postImmortalised in Print.
Sunday, 23 November 2008
After Aaron passed away, I found myself sitting for hours at a time going over and over everything in my head; I was trying to remember every moment of his life in the tiniest detail. People thought I was sitting grieving, staring into space, maybe just thinking about the loss, or maybe just crying, letting the tears fall, and sometimes that was the case. But really, I was trying to recall it all, I wanted it all committed to memory so solidly, because I was terrified I was going to forget something, I couldn’t bear to forget the tiniest thing about Aaron and our precious time together.
The more people that came round, the more we spoke about Aaron, and it was then that we realised that not everyone knew everything about Aaron, everyone knew Aaron at different stages of his life, so some people never knew he could walk up until he was seven, some never knew that he was born with a cleft palate, and had to have a tracheotomy to breathe after they repaired it.
So I decided, to write it all down. At first it was just for me, it was therapeutic, it gave me something tangible to hold on to and to do, it’s not like I was sleeping anyway, no matter what the doctor gave me, I couldn’t bear to close my eyes. Maybe because I knew that in that second I woke up, I was going to be oblivious, and then it would hit me like a ton of bricks all over again. So when everyone else was getting their fitful nights sleep, I sat at the computer and wrote, and wrote and wrote…and once it was down on paper, I could stop obsessing about that particular event because it was tangibly on paper.
But the more I wrote, the more I realised how inspirational Aaron is. We all know that, of course, we lived with him; I doubt I will ever meet a stronger or more determined person as long as I live. But I realised that he had so many lessons to teach others too. So it naturally progressed into a book.
I surprised even myself when I remembered everything in so much detail. And one thing I am so grateful for is that we had such a close and intense relationship. Aaron and I were inseparable, and how many mums can say they have that much quality time with their 12/13/14 year old, I know Jordan and Robyn are more independent, they hardly need me at all…but Aaron needed me, and even if at times that was hard, and exhausting, I am so glad now I can’t tell you. It means that we got to cram in far more love and quality time than most mothers and sons do.
The book is not all doom and gloom, honestly, nothing written about Aaron could be. There are some bits that are hard to get through, there are some bits that will undoubtedly make you cry, but you will laugh as much as you cry, I promise. Aaron was a character; he lived life to the max every day, and embodied the meaning of the word love. When you looked at Aaron, you saw the love shine out of him, in his eyes there was just total acceptance, and he was happy just to be with you. A true angel on earth and it’s not just me as his mum that has said that, it has been said by hundreds of people. And anyone who ever got a hug from him with never forget it, mainly because his hugs were like across between the Heimlich manoeuvre and a half nelson…but he meant them, you certainly knew he meant it as the oxygen flow was cut off and your eyeballs started to bulge.
God I miss those hugs the most. I would probably give everything I own for just one more of Aarons hugs. And I would cling on to him and cherish it, because this time I would know it would be the last one. I wonder sometimes if I didn’t cling on enough in that last hug I gave Aaron before he passed away, how was I to know it would be the last one? If I’d of known that I would have clung on and never let go.
I know Aaron book has helped lots of people, many families are gaining hope and strength form Aaron and his amazing character. The book is real and honest and it answers the questions that no-one dared ask me at the time, and since to some extent.
Trojan created a short book trailer yesterday, so if you think this is something for you, then you can find it on www.sallyannestephenson.com, Barnes & Noble or on Amazon.
Posted in Aaron Stephenson, bereavement, books, coping with loss, grief, I believe I can fly, parenting, sally-anne stephenson, video blogs by Sally's World | 0 comments
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