The Love That Built Me

December 3rd — The Day My Heart Learned It’s First Great Love

Dear Reader,

Some stories shape your life. Some stories change your life. And some stories save your life. This one is all three — because it begins with my son, my heart, my Shonny.

From the moment he arrived on a Monday at 12:54 AM. Shonny came into this world like he had something to prove. He was nine pounds, zero ounces, 21 and a half inches long, with a 14-inch head circumference He was a big, beautiful boy — my boy, and he was perfect from the start.

When they finally placed him in my arms, the very first thing I felt was real weight! His face was round, his eyes a little swollen, but he was alert, looking around like he was already taking in the whole world.

And then there was that hair. Lord, that hair. I spent my whole pregnancy battling heartburn so bad it felt like fire, and even though people call it an old wives’ tale, it was true for me. Shonny came out with more hair than I had ever seen on a newborn, and he stills holds the record.

It didn’t surprise me, though. When I was born, the nurses were in disbelief too — they combed my hair straight up just to show my parents how long and thick it was. And here I was now, holding a baby who looked exactly like his father. but later, he grew to look just like me! He had my whole face — from complexion, eyebrows, nose, smile, and that hair.

From the moment he opened those eyes and looked at me, the connection was instant. He was mine, and I loved him so deeply that you really had to be a special person to me to even watch him. I took him very personal. I was very selfish when it came to this boy. He was even deemed as being my favorite. In a way, he was my favorite — he taught me how to be a mother, and how to love someone more than myself. It was the deepest, most personal love I had ever known. It was mine.

Shonny loved his Dad deeply, too. He had his Dad’s taste and love for clothes; the two of them had to be fly!

That first love was the strength I built my world on. Fifteen years ago, when he passed, the grief became consuming and selfish. I took the pain on so completely that I was swallowed up. We were all messed up. My twin boy was displaying anger, and my twin girl never even had a proper grieving process; she became the strength out of the three of us. We had never experienced such a loss, and we simply didn’t know what to do.

Shonny’s love had expanded, too: at the time of his passing, he had a precious baby girl who was only one and a half years old. She was the apple of his eye, and he was crazy about her! I took second place in his heart ❤️, and I was completely okay with that.

It wasn’t until my twin girl, desperate for me to see her, had to snap at me — “Mom, you weren’t the only one who loved him!”— that dose of reality hit harder than if I was actually punched in the face. In that moment, I knew I had to snap out of it. They needed me, but all I wanted was him…

When I lost my son, my world didn’t just crack — it shattered entirely. It wasn’t just grief; it was a total emotional collapse.

But the love he forged in my heart — the ability to love someone more than myself — became the strength I used to pull myself out of the silence. Shonny was crazy about his twins, too, and he taught them the same profound love. Even now my twin boy tells me: “Mom, you have already been through the worst,” reminding me of my strength. He taught us all.

Losing Shonny taught me that if I could survive that kind of pain, I could survive anything. It stripped away every weak defense and forced me to build the Tougher Version of Me — the one who refuses to give up, who faces conflict, and who knows that true peace comes only from God.

Every lesson I share on this blog — about marriage, men, and finding my peace begins with the powerful, loving memory of my son, my baby, my first love, Na’Shon T. Johnson — 12/03/1990.

I will always love you, my beautiful boy.

Love, Mommy.