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Mom on Purpose

~ The lofty side of this is that I am a mom on a mission. I am striving to create a better world by being the best, most inner-directed mother I know how to be. The other side of this is that I became a mom… on purpose. Meaning, I chose this. But man, it can be hard.

Mom on Purpose

Category Archives: Thoughts

Moving on from Mom on Purpose

20 Tuesday Jun 2017

Posted by Dr. Amy Robinson in Thoughts

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When I started this blog in 2012, it fuelled a part of me that had been dormant, lighting me up from the inside.  However, the intention was always to be as transparent as possible in my writing, and there were many things going on in my life in 2014 and in the three years that followed that interfered with this.

I was selling my practice in Ontario – but couldn’t go public with that knowledge until it has been finalized.  So I had to withhold.   And then when we moved to Nova Scotia, we were wrapped up in legal and municipality issues around buying the house we wanted to live in and practice out of – and again, I couldn’t go public with the information of what was going on in my life.  So I had to withhold.

And finally – and most importantly – our kids were getting older.  Their concerns were not quite as child-like as they moved into the pre-teen and teen years.  Our conversations began to move into adolescent topics: boys, girls, hormones, body changes, social situations, hurt feelings, and many emotions to express and understand.  And I realized that I – yet again – was not able to voice my experiences in my writing.  Simply because they were not mine alone to share.  I could not write freely about my thoughts and feelings while honouring the privacy of my children.

And so, as my family has grown – wonderfully – I am elated – and somewhat surprised, to see that I love being a mom to teenagers (let’s be honest here: most of the time).  I am surprised, grateful and proud.  They are proving themselves to be the amazing human beings I know they are.

But I no longer feel able to blog as their mom.  Not about them, or our private conversations and experiences.  Not in the same way that I did before.  I struggled with this for quite some time, waiting for my ‘next step’ to appear.  It took a while – a time that I was busy building my new practice in Nova Scotia, spending time with family, helping build a cottage with my parents, coaching soccer and needing my calendar always at hand to keep track of our many sporting events, music lessons, and other obligations.

Life has been busy – and as always, has had its ups and downs.

However – I am finally ready to start writing again.  As me: A woman; A mom;  A wife;  A chiropractor, health advocate & business owner.  My thoughts, dreams, fears and the observations of life that help me navigate it the best I can.

And in thanks for being loyal followers of mine in the past, I invite you to join me at my new blog.  As a matter of fact, here is a sneak peak of  my soon-to-be-released blog: The Inspired Life Journey.

_____________________________

That’s a Lofty Name 

“That’s a lofty name”, was my mom’s first comment when I told her I was starting a new blog. I laughed, not surprised. “That’s the point”, I replied, “An inspired life isn’t always inspired.”

As a matter of fact, the name of this blog came to me after spending the afternoon in an oncologists office.  It wasn’t the best day – obviously. But somehow, out of that day’s experience, I felt a familiar calling – a Voice inside – that left me feeling connected, grateful and whole rather than drained. (Continue Reading…)

IMG_7910

 

With love for following my blogs, Dr. Amy Robinson

 

 

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The Hardest Week of my Life – 2 Years Later

03 Tuesday May 2016

Posted by Dr. Amy Robinson in Extended family, Thoughts

≈ 2 Comments

This week marks the 2 year anniversary of the hardest week of my life.  Even as I write that, I wonder – was it really the hardest?  Maybe not the most stressful in some ways, but yes, definitely the hardest.

In the span of 5 days I grieved the death of two family members.  My 95-year-old Nanny, whose decline was rapid but somewhat expected, and Dean’s dad – the most loving and wise father-in-law I could ever have asked for, and whose death was the greatest shock of our lives.  With his passing, we became the unfortunate recipients of ‘the dreaded call’ in the middle of the night.

nannyGrandpa

 

These days, those memories carry far less sting and heaviness than they have in the past.  Time has helped to heal my grief, although the sadness certainly lingers.  And today, I find myself marvelling at how life overlaps – simultaneously being in memory of people and past – while being in the middle of our busy, multifaceted life.

While I do personally believe that there is a ‘design’ to our lives, and that everything does happen for a reason (although we may not always grasp what that may be), I don’t have gratitude that we have lost loved people from our lives.  When I let myself drop into the memories fully, I feel deeply saddened by missing them.  I wish that my Nanny would still be living in her house in Placentia, Newfoundland when Dean, Ethan, Audra and I travel there for the first time as a family.  And I miss the frequent phone calls from Dean’s dad, his teasing ways, and his standard but heartfelt “Love you, sweetie” goodbye. I miss the yearly visits and great conversations.   I miss Dean’s dad.

Based on my own beliefs, I could draw comfort from knowing that they are in a loving and beautiful place – and I do.  I’m sure that losing someone you love would be an entirely different experience if there was no belief in the concept that our spirits live on.  But I am sad for us – for those of us who miss people who have left.  I am sad for my children – that they had such finite contact with these two prominent people; I am sad for my mom and her siblings and extended family, and I am sad for Dean’s mom.  Losing people leaves a hole that will never be replaced.

No, I don’t have gratitude that we no longer have those people in our lives.  But – I do have gratitude to know that we were able to weather that storm together as a family.  I do take comfort in seeing that other family members also miss their presence, and in doing so, bring us closer together.   I am strengthened by knowing that our kids have witnessed and experienced deep grief, and still found healthy ways to express themselves and grow through the pains.   I admire my extended family, and especially my husband, Dean and my mother-in-law, Diane for the fortitude and resiliency they have shown despite heartbreak.

If it were up to me, and I could bring loved ones back, I would do so.  I would choose to have Dean’s dad in our lives for many more years.  We weren’t ready for his passing, and even now – 2 years later – his presence is missed in our lives.

I wish he were here now to see Audra turn 11 years old tomorrow.  I wish our kids could share with him their enthusiasm over their 3-hour bike adventure today after school.  I wish he could tease Ethan about his long and shaggy hair, and tell Audra to slow down her desire to be a teenager.

I can imagine how our lives could be different if they were still alive.  The loss of my grandmother and father-in-law will forever be linked in my mind, simply because they occurred in such close proximity to each other and they were the hardest losses I have ever experienced.

Two years later sometimes feels like a lifetime has passed.  We have relocated across the country, started our lives over in Nova Scotia, and set our roots deeply into being here for good.  Life has its challenges still –  it is busy, sometimes bringing unexpected challenges, or unanticipated joys.  Life here -now and then – has been both joyful and heartbreaking.

Perhaps that is life, after all.  Good and bad, pain and joy, birth and death -all are natural parts of life.  I for one would rather embrace it all, remembering  each moment poignantly, and being grateful for the time we still have with those we love.

With deepest love and appreciation for everyone in our lives, both past and present – thank you. We love you forever.

 

 

 

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My Parenting Panic Attack – again

20 Saturday Feb 2016

Posted by Dr. Amy Robinson in Thoughts

≈ 2 Comments

My heart beats faster, my breathing doesn’t seem to quite come deep enough. There is a heaviness in my chest – like someone is stepping on me – I think it’s panic. Time is slipping through my fingers faster than I can take hold, and I don’t want to miss out. Are we doing this parenting thing okay? Will we look back and wish we had been different somehow?

The panicked feeling started last night after Dean, Audra and I watched a movie. When it ended, Audra kissed us and went to bed. There was no good-night hug from Ethan, who was staying the night at a friends house (as often seems to be the case on weekends nows) – and it didn’t cross my mind to send him a good-night text.

An hour later, the panicked feeling slowly crept its way into my heart. When was the last time I tucked my kids into bed? When did it become the norm that they kiss me goodnight in the living room and then drift off to sleep without me spending time in their rooms? How could I have let that treasured time slip away from our daily lives simply because I was curled up and cozy in the other room? As I head to bed, I peak in on Audra as she sleeps. Part of me wants to curl up next to her and take back that time. A do-over. But of course I can’t.

Thoughts and images begin to flash through my mind. A glimpse of Audra as she leaned over to kiss Dean goodnight, looking more and more like a young woman than a young child. The thought of the bag of new clothes and shoes we bought for Ethan tonight – all sized by the logic that if they are too big for me, they will probably fit him. A memory of Ethan chuckling as we hugged as he readjusted his arms to come over top of mine. These little moments are a daily reminder that he will soon be bending down to hug me. Conversations flit through my mind – of boys and girls, fitting in, growing up and all of the exciting and awkward times on the horizon.

 

My kids are growing up too fast.

Ethan and AudraMy minds swirls, drawing me down further – I panic that we don’t have many years left of family vacations, or that they will almost ready to leave home by the time we build our next home. I panic that they aren’t grasping these last fleeting years of childhood fully – that they are not getting enough outdoor time, and spend too much time on iPads and texting friends. I panic. Will they remember their childhood with as much joy as I do mine? Would they want to change things? Can we do things better?

In this downward spiral, I feel a deep sadness while I miss more simple times. I miss pudgy little hands in mine, the feel of their warm, sleepy bodies melting onto mine. I miss seeing the joy they found in simple things like rocks and sticks and bugs, jumping in mud puddles, making art and playing with playdough. I mourn, yet again, how fast life is passing by.

When I look in the mirror, I’m quite okay with the changes I see as I age. But when I look at my kids, I realize that their rate of change is an entirely different measuring stick. Where is the time going?!

With a deep breath, and conscious effort, I bring myself back to reality. I realize that I have let my mind go off on a crazy tangent. I feel these things, and yet, I also know that I am delusional. I am letting my mind filter memories with only one lens. I am only remembering the poignant, sweet memories – but leaving out the fatigue of being constantly wanted and needed. I am focusing on what has been lost – or parts of life that we have naturally grown out of – but not seeing all of what we are gaining.

I admit that I am afraid of some of the uncharted areas of life we are entering into. I know what it’s like to be a kid – but I’m not one right now, in today’s day and age. I remember my teen years as being full of awkwardness, fuelled by a desperate need to fit in, while simultaneously full of great memories, solid friendships, and the exhilarating and unparalleled excitement of growing up. I think of how hard those years must have been for my parents – and I sincerely hope that we parent through these coming years and still feel – most days- like we are thriving.

Quite unrealistically, I wish that we could keep the good and avoid the bad. But maybe the best we can do is to get through the years being as present as we can, as often as we can manage. I need to accept that there will be days that we won’t have this parenting thing down so well. There will be days that we will need to escape, go on autopilot, or just hope that tomorrow is a better day.

When I look at our life with a more balanced lens, I can admit that life now comes with more freedom, deeper conversations, and more adult experiences together. We can watch mature movies that teach life lessons, choose family outings that we all enjoy equally, share the home responsibilities amongst four people rather than two, and have fun doing things like skiing together, going to the beach and sitting down for family dinners most nights.

The truth is that I don’t want to go back in time (although quick visits would be nice). And I don’t want to rush through my days now, either. I just want to be able to look back on these times – and know that I didn’t miss out, and to have a deep knowingness that we truly did the best we could.

On days that my thoughts run away on me – like today – I need to remind myself that even when we are less-than-exemplary parents and imperfect role models – our kids know that they are loved beyond measure, accepted without question, and supported unconditionally to let their own inner light shine – whatever that may be.

I remind myself that life comes with many ups and downs, challenges and joys. Time is going to pass, regardless of how hard I wish for it to slow down. I am reminded – yet again – that perhaps the hardest job as a mom is that of constantly letting go and trusting in life, our kids, and ourselves.

And deep breaths. Many, many deep breaths.

Family beach time

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Absurdly happy to be 40

31 Sunday Jan 2016

Posted by Dr. Amy Robinson in Thoughts

≈ 6 Comments

Today is my 40th birthday. I am sipping a coffee by a fire, gazing out over the Atlantic ocean while my husband Dean plays guitar. It is simple, glorious and perfect.

I am absurdly happy to be turning 40. I am not quite sure why I don’t have the same hang ups other people have about age and numbers, but I don’t. I am 40. I feel ALIVE, adored, and deeply happy that I know myself inside and out. Even though there are days that I don’t feel this way, the deeper and wiser part of me knows that ALL IS WELL.

I have a husband who adores me, two children who are amazing human beings who fill my heart with the deepest gratitude possible, a family close by that I love to the depths of my heart, and friends all around the world. I feel healthy, strong, capable and confident. I am a woman who is comfortable in my own skin. Finally. I readily admit that after many years of working hard to find who that person is – hell yes, I am celebrating myself.

In my early 20s, I partied with friends, finished university, moved out west, and met the love of my life. We had lots of adventures, and took a few leaps. By my mid-twenties, we got married, I graduated chiropractic college, and became a mother, a doctor and a business owner all in one fell swoop. By the time I turned 30, I had two babies at home, a mountain of debt, a fledging practice, and a life that was so busy on all fronts that it was mostly a blur.

In my early 30s, I opened my own practice, and struggled through many growing pains. We watched our children grow and thrive in the small town we had moved to, commuted many hours a week to our jobs near Toronto, all while feeling our roots growing deeper into Ontario soil. By my mid-to-late 30s, life was getting easier. We had somehow navigated many of life’s storms, juggling work and kids. (I think, as a matter of fact, that we were doing ‘life’ well… most days.) Our life was good, our marriage stronger than ever, our kids happy and healthy, my practice thriving. But my heart was incomplete. I wanted to be home. Nova Scotia. Family. Ocean.

And so in the last few years of my 30s, our life challenges were stepped up a notch as we faced perhaps our biggest hurdle yet: were we wiling to take our greatest leap yet – and start all over in Nova Scotia? Were we willing to brave that degree of uncertainty? Were we crazy to consider starting all over just as life was finally starting to get easier? Were we willing to uproot our kids and face their many mixed – and heated – emotions over leaving friends and the life they knew and loved o start over in a new place?

The resounding answer was YES. We were willing to do whatever it would take to follow our hearts. We would sell my practice, sell our home, and get rid of many of our possessions to move home to Nova Scotia. We would uproot our kids from their comfortable life and friends – and move across the country. We would start all over, come what may.

In our final months in Ontario, after a year of stress and uncertainty unlike any we had known, we somehow managed to find the strength to live through the devastating and unexpected loss of Dean’s dad. Perhaps pulling through that – at that particular point in our life, when we may have believed that we were as tapped out as we thought it was possible to be – we somehow still found the strength within ourselves, and with each other to keep moving forward. As we came through these challenges, I remember thinking: “Maybe we are all far stronger than we give ourselves credit for.”

In the 18 months that have followed, we have again faced challenges that sometimes surpassed the ‘limit’ I thought we had for handling stress and uncertainty. With our children finding their way in a new place, many legal battles under our belt (finally!), and my new, fledging practice thriving – we are happy in a way that I didn’t know was possible.

At the distinct risk of being corny – I am so grateful that I feel moved almost to tears. That heart-quaking, filled-up feeling of the deepest gratitude possible

And so, when I look back at how far we have come, the challenges that we have faced, and the fact that everything that matters is good – so good – today, as I turn 40, I am CELEBRATING!

HELL YES. I can’t wait to see what this next decade has in store for us.

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“The World is NOT Hollow!!” – Observations of a nine-year-old

27 Monday Oct 2014

Posted by Dr. Amy Robinson in Thoughts

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Gratitude, Kids' Observations, Nature

“The world is NOT hollow!,”  Audra yells as we are driving today, taking me completely off guard.

“What do you mean?” I ask, perplexed.  “Where did that thought come from??”

“The song on the radio just said that the world is hollow.” she states in a tone of complete disagreement.

“Well… what is it full of?“, I ask with curiosity.

“LOVE.”  she answers promptly.

“Beauty.”

“Amazing things.”

“And nature makes me feel ALIVE.” she finishes with emphasis.

I continue our drive, pondering her thoughts, while taking in the beautiful colours of the fall leaves.

“Yes.  I completely agree,” I answer, as a deep breath of contentment fills my lungs.

YES.

Audra

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A Mom’s Journey on Learning to Let Go

08 Sunday Jun 2014

Posted by Dr. Amy Robinson in Musings of a Manic Mama, Thoughts

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

Kids Growing Up, letting go, Nurturing Responsibility

It’s Sunday morning at 11am. In years past, I would have already been up for 5+ hours, diapers changed and re-changed, nap times navigated, breakfast and snacks served, activities mediated and rest-time non-existent. I remember wishing occasionally for just one hour – just one – to do something without interruption. Our kids were little, highly needing of our time and attention, and not yet old enough to entertain themselves without our frequent participation, or the maturity to play without the watchful eyes of a parent. They couldn’t yet wipe their own bums, open the fridge for a snack, or play without supervision. Our level of needed-ness was unrelentingly high.

I don’t want to go back to those years – but I sometimes get overwhelmed by how quickly time is flying by and how little-by-little, Ethan and Audra are growing up. It strikes me as the biggest cosmic joke that as moms, we seem to be programmed to want to keep our babies young and close-at-hand, while sometimes wanting to keel over in sheer mental and physical exhaustion.

Nana with Ethan and Audra on a visit in 2006

I’m not the kind of mom who tries to keep our kids small. As a matter of fact, I feel like the job of a mom is one of constantly learning to let go – bit by bit, easing the reins, and letting our kids experience more and more of life. We do our best to let them expand their horizons, test their abilities and prove themselves responsible enough and deserving of new privileges as they get older. I love that they are old enough for us to do things with them that we want to do – like take long hikes, snorkel in deep water, watch exciting movies, explore new places, or have deep conversations. As a matter of fact, I’d choose the company of our two kids over that of many of the adults I’ve met. Our kids are awesome – and lots of fun to be with. With Audra just-turned-9 and Ethan being nearly-11, they are quick simply great company.

Skiing with Ethan, Winter 2014

Snorkelling with Audra, Cuba 2014

But today I find myself on the gazebo in our lush backyard, quietly sipping a coffee, willing myself to appreciate the time I have to myself. Somehow we’ve gone from being so constantly in demand that it was exhausting – to a weekend like this. Ethan has been having the time of his life at a friend’s cottage, while Audra has been at another friend’s house for an extended sleep over for the past 28 hours. And the simple truth is that I miss our kids. Right now, my heart is a little achy as I wait for my family to reconvene around me, filling me up with stories of their great weekend adventures.

Years ago, the idea of letting my kids go hours away for days on end would have been inconceivable. But with the passage of time, those boundaries slowly expand, pushing ever-so-slowly outwards. Maybe I’ll be called crazy for expressing this (that was Dean’s general comment when I expressed my feelings of missing our kids) – but I miss my kids!

Don’t get me wrong – I was happy to let them go. I was happy for them for the great and fun times they would have with their friends. We didn’t consider saying no to their requests for even a moment, and I am looking forward to hearing them joyfully recount what an amazing weekend they have had.

Maybe it’s just getting me at an exceptionally vulnerable moment, but every once in a while I get hit by the overwhelming realization of how quickly time flies. Our kids are growing up so fast. Sometimes it seems like those crazy-busy times of being a parent will never ease, and then I find myself in a quiet house while they play outside with friends, go to the park without me, or walk to school on their own.

Maybe this is amplified by coming on the heels of this being the first week that I wasn’t needed to pick them up after school. For years, they’d ask why some moms picked up their kids every day – while I only could do it two days a week – like they were somehow being slighted. And then this past Wednesday, Audra asked if she could walk home from school with a friend, which Ethan has been doing for a while. “Yesss….” I answered hesitatingly. I had no trepidations about her walking home in our small town – but my mind was processing this unexpected ‘first’- that of not being needed to pick our kids up from school. I wasn’t quite ready for that. (I actually considered going to the school – ‘just for the walk’ – but realized that I would have been doing it for ME – because I wasn’t ready for this step, even though they were.) Instead, I watched the clock as I worked on my computer – noticing when my normal departure-time came and went. And I stayed where I was.  Simultaneously feeling how convenient this was as I completed my work – while also feeling a little sad, like something precious was slipping away from me.

Maybe I’m being overly emotional, but my mommy-heart quietly grieves all of the signs of how I am a little less needed in my babies’ lives.

Even with this, there is another part of me that is laughing at myself: “Are you CRAZY, lady?! After all these years of constant work, juggling life as a working mom, mediating being a business owner with caring for our home-life, lacking sleep, and sometimes needing time for ME so badly that I was in near break-down mode?! Don’t you remember all those times?! Don’t you deserve a little break?! Can’t you appreciate this gift of time??”

So yes, I am enjoying my down-time, achy heart included. I had a fantastic date-night with Dean last night: we hit up a local street festival, followed by an amazing steak dinner on a sunny patio, a walk along the Barrie waterfront – and a sleep-in today. I looked at Dean as we drove home, and asked him what he thought our life would be like if we didn’t have kids (this is after he lovingly laughed at my comments about missing them). His truthful answer was that we’d probably travel more, live a more luxurious lifestyle, and have more money – but that ‘he likes having kids’ – and not just any kids: OUR kids. And I couldn’t agree more.

Yes, I may have to re-read this myself on some of those days that I want to pull my hair out with parenting-frustration. I don’t subscribe to the idea that the ‘best years are behind us’. Despite the truth in how being a mom makes me grieve as my kids leave behind more and more of their dependency on us, I can also welcome the new more-mature relationships that are forming in our family. I can laugh at myself for crying over these little things, all while understanding how deeply the roots of these feelings go.

The wiser part of me knows that our kids don’t need me any less than when they were little. They just need me differently. They need us to listen without judgment, to extend our trust a little deeper, and to demonstrate our confidence in them by letting them go just a little farther afield with each passing year. They need to know more than ever that they are loved and accepted by us, even when they falter. They need to know that they can always talk to us – even about the hard things – and that our arms are always open for limitless hugs.

As for me, as a mom of two kids quickly approaching the adolescent years, I feel like the hardest part of the ‘job’ – that of letting them go even more (while holding my breath as they stretch their wings) – is going to be a life-long journey. Maybe this weekend was just a reminder of how far into this process we already are.

Dean with our big kids!

Dean with our big kids!

And maybe my job is to have a little more faith in US – in the job that Dean and I have done so far in raising our kids to be the healthy, happy, self-confident individuals that Ethan and Audra are proving themselves to be. Maybe I need to let go and trust that we have been doing a great job – the most important one in the world, in my opinion.

At the end of the day – regardless of how young or old they may be – they will always be my babies. Our babies.  (While dads may process this differently, I have trouble believing that this doesn’t affect them, too…) And we will love them the way that only a parent can. Whole-heartedly. In the moment – and for every moment past and future.

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Navigating Loss… And Choosing Life

01 Sunday Jun 2014

Posted by Dr. Amy Robinson in Thoughts

≈ 8 Comments

Tags

Dealing with Grief, Facing Life Choices, Kids and Grief, Letting Go of Fear

Two weeks ago I hit rock bottom. I’m sure that’s a relative term, but for me it meant that I was feeling the lowest and most defeated that I have felt in a long, long time. Call it process overload, call it grief, call it whatever you want… I just wasn’t myself and was having a hard time finding my way back.

The truth is that I was pretty close to full capacity for stress before my Nanny passed away on April 30th. And it was in the midst of that sadness that the phone rang on May 5th with the surreal news that Dean’s dad had died from a sudden heart attack.

Our week in Edmonton with Dean’s mom and family was both harder than I expected, and more normal than I thought possible. I found myself marveling at how life still goes on – even in the tough times. I’d be getting groceries and thinking ‘how weird this is that no one who looks at me would know the roller coaster of emotions going on inside.’ I took great pleasure in the way that our family was able to talk openly, tell stories, enjoy each others’ company, and even laugh together. I was deeply comforted by that.

The kids were amazing. While both reacted and dealt with the news differently – I was again comforted by their candidness in asking questions, making comments and observations, and going about entertaining themselves in their normal ways. I did find them both to be very short-tempered with each other – and they spent lots of time playing on their own (Ethan would disappear to play Minecraft or shoot basketball hoops, while Audra would watch shows on her ipad, or play outside with grandma’s dog). But they both had melt downs periodically that would break my heart.  

In Edmonton I felt like I coped well. I felt capable, and like I was in touch with that core of strength that lies deep inside. I was strong in our travels with our kids (although the frequent video texts my sister sent of my nieces literally saved my/our lives a few times that our emotions almost got the best of us). I felt strong enough – albeit a little anxious – to see Dean’s dad at the viewing. But again, the kids were amazing. We explained to them what to expect and gave them the option to choose if they wanted to ‘see Grandpa’ – to which they both immediately insisted that they did. At the funeral home, I actually had to hold them back from running in – just to give Dean’s mom a chance to go in first. And I was so proud of them as they walked up to the casket – quietly cuddling in to myself, Dean, or Grandma. (And then the stream of questions began: “Does Grandpa have shoes on? Why? You can’t even see them! Why is his hand puffy? Why are his eyes closed? And on and on. It was so normal to hear the natural curiosity that it lightened the experience substantially.)

We got through the funeral – including a very moving ceremony with a long procession in which his military friends saluted his body and then Dean’s mom – and we ended the day in the kitchen telling stories with friends and family. In Edmonton, I grieved, mediated the sporadic breakdowns from our kids, cooked for our extended family, and nurtured everyone as best I could. I leaned heavily on my own family – including many Facetime calls to my mom (who was still in Newfoundland following Nanny’s funeral), and my sister – whose wonderful girls made me laugh at the times I most wanted to cry. Again, I am eternally grateful for technology – especially when geography makes us so far away.

The hardest time I had was once I returned to Ontario with our kids. Dean stayed in Edmonton for an extra week – and while my dad had offered to fly up if I needed him – I decided that I could get through 5 days without Dean, and with a little help from friends. As a matter of fact, help from friends in our little town of Beeton was one of my saving graces. One friend took the kids before school – and even offered to pack their lunch for them on that first day back (A little gesture – maybe – but it was one of the kindest and most thoughtful offerings I have ever had extended to me. Thanks Lisa – I doubt you know quite how much that helped me!) Other friends got our kids from school and fed and entertained them until I got home from work. The net result was a load off of my shoulders, and an extra-fun week for our kids with their friends. Again, my gratitude was enormous.

Maybe it was knowing that our kids were well taken care of – and that Dean was exactly where he was most needed – that lead to me letting go to keep on processing my own grief. It took everything I had to practice for the first two days – especially as I will only put my hands on people if I can be in a state that is healthy enough to help them. It took every bit of focus I had to be present enough to be in my practice.

I was exhausted, napping every day by necessity – but not sleeping at night. I tried working out – only to find that my muscles were so weak that I could hardly get through the classes. I remember one workout in particular when I couldn’t talk to anyone because I was afraid that I would blubber if I opened my mouth – and willing myself to keep it together while doing my warm ups. I was eternally grateful that friends were feeding our kids dinner so that I didn’t have to think about that. And for the first time in years, I found myself wanting to emotionally eat. Bad choice, possibly, but I wanted pizza and junk food, and things that I know make me feel awful.

The weekend when Dean came home I felt like the missing piece of the puzzle was put back in place. For the first time in a week, I slept. But I wasn’t out of the woods yet. As a matter of fact – I think that the combination of having Dean home and having our best friends Tanya and Mike and their kids visiting possibly provided the ‘perfect’ time for me to go into breakdown mode. I realized that I needed help and support – and that I was afraid to lean on Dean the way I usually would. How could I lean on him for help when it was his dad that had just passed? I didn’t want him to see what a hard time I was having. I didn’t want to add any stress to him. I didn’t want to worry him – and felt guilty for not being strong enough to be the support for him that I expected he would need. All of the sudden, I felt that the joy of having Dean home had transformed into a greater sense of alone-ness.

I had lost my rock.

We have a busy life and there are lots of responsibilities that I have. And one thing I know for sure is that I would not be able to ‘do my life’ without the constant love, support and encouragement that Dean gives me. I was perceiving this unexpected but massive loss (albeit inaccurately) and it may have been the final straw for me. I felt like I was trying to balance on a three-legged stool that had just lost another leg.

Fortunately, the presence of our friends helped immensely. I could cry to them (and I did), while knowing that Dean had support, too. And while ineffectively ‘hiding’ my breakdown from Dean, they were able to assure me that Dean was okay – that he saw and understood that I was afraid to lean on him as I usually would – and that he wanted to still fill that role for me.

The truth is that my rock bottom was not only about losing people that I loved. It was that the very foundation of my life and beliefs was shaken. I was afraid to trust life. I was living in a state of anxiety about how quickly things can change. I was afraid whenever the phone would ring that it might be bad news. If Dean called me and I missed his call, that fraction of time before I called him back was filled with unreasonable worry that something else might go wrong. I felt like I was living in state of perpetual fear. And it felt so foreign to my normal way of thinking that I wasn’t able to be myself.

I have made a conscious choice in life to focus on what’s right vs worrying about what might go wrong. It isn’t from a place of being naively optimistic – but rather one of being realistic to circumstances and choosing the most empowering way of thinking that I can in any given moment.

One of the questions I ask myself when life’s challenges show up is:

Will this matter in a month, a year, 5 years? (and usually the answer is NO)

Or I reaffirm to myself that “Everything that matters is good.” (our kids are happy and healthy, we have a roof over our heads, good food in our fridge, a loving and supportive marriage, purposeful work that we love, and great relationships with our families.)

For the first time ever, my modus operendi didn’t get me through. Yes – this would matter as time went on. And everything that matters wasn’t good. We had lost people who we loved, and who were central to our lives. Some things would never be the same again.

I realize that I had to go down to the bottom of my grief before I could begin to climb back up again. I may even be grateful (soon) that it happened with such velocity, albeit intensity.

I had a choice. I could let these combinations of experiences change me and how I viewed the world. I could wallow in sadness, add a little more fear to my viewpoint, and play a little smaller (safer) in life. Maybe then it wouldn’t hurt so much. Why couldn’t life just be EASY?

OR.

I could pick myself back up. Put my routines and supports back into place. Lean on Dean – and let him lean back. Be grateful for all the parts of our life that are still great. Be present to the people in front of me. Journal. Write. Do my morning routine. Get back to the gym. Eat well. Take my vitamins. Get good sleep. And trust life again.

I started back to journaling my list of gratitudes every morning – reflecting on what was going well. I allowed myself to hope and dream for the future again – even knowing that things may not work out exactly as I want. I decided I would rather live life full out – including putting my heart back into everything I did – even if it meant that I may face heartbreak or disappointment again.  Essentially, I chose to not let these experiences break me. I needed time, help from friends, connection with Dean, and love from family to get back to being ME.

Am I different now? Yes, some things change you forever.

Let me sum it up with this: Years ago I was asked which life path I would choose: Would I rather live a happy, even-keel life – or a life with unbelievable highs and lows? One would be ‘safer’, with less mental/emotional challenge – while the other could be like riding a roller coaster of extreme highs, successes and moments of great joy, while peppered with monumental challenges, extreme lows, and moments of defeat.

Fundamentally, we have chosen to live life full out. Option B is the one for us – highs and lows. Let’s face it – the lows suck. Truly. But I am choosing to believe with all of my heart that the highs will make it all more than worthwhile.

I know that life goes on, and that time heals. I don’t know what to expect in the upcoming weeks, months and years. I know that we will be very busy, welcoming new challenges, while hopefully enjoying many moments of happiness and ease. I feel like we are due for another up-swing. And even if all doesn’t go ‘to plan’ – I’ve decided that it feels better to lean in and hope anyways. In the very least, I feel like I’m ME again. And quite frankly, I think that’s how I need to be and who I need to be to ‘do my life’ and do it well.

Thank you everyone for your help and support, kind words, prayers and hugs. They have been so greatly appreciated.

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Nominated for a Liebster Award!

18 Friday Jan 2013

Posted by Dr. Amy Robinson in Thoughts

≈ 1 Comment

Tags

Blogs I Like, Liebster Award, Paying it Forward

Who doesn’t like being acknowledged?  Whether a hug, a thank you, or a prestigious award, I think it’s safe to say that we all thrive when we feel recognized and appreciated for things that we do.  And in that spirit, I’ll pass on a thank you (and virtual hug) to my friend and colleague, Dr. Andrea Ryan, who nominated me for an award.  Andrea is a chiropractor, mom extraordinaire, and awesome writer, whose blog, Relish the Journey, is always a great and inspirational read.

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Being nominated for a Liebster Award is kind of like entering into a game – but one in which I doubt there will be any tangible, put-on-my-shelf kind of award.   I think it may be a clever scheme thought up by some wise person or group to set up a bloggers form of paying it forward.  (A great win-win blogging activity, in my calculation.)

So here goes (I love a game, especially one that spreads a little love and appreciation around in cyber-space)

Facts of the Liebster Award

The Liebster Award’s origins are pretty much a mystery. Bloggers nominate other bloggers that have 200 or less followers. It’s basically a “Hey, that’s a sweet little blog you’ve got there. Here’s an award!” You can’t just accept the award. You have to play by the (ever-changing) rules and pay it forward. Then you can put the award on your blog for all to see.

The Rules:

1. List 5 facts about yourself.

2. Answer the 5 questions given to you. (My 5 questions for each of the 5 nominated blogs are near the bottom of this post!)

3. Create 5 new questions for the bloggers you nominate for the award.

4. Choose 5 worthy bloggers to nominate. (At the very bottom of this post you will find the links!)

5. Go to each bloggers page and let them know about the award.

6.  Thank the person who nominated you and link back to their blog. (see the intro of this post!)

Five Facts About Me:

1 – I am more productive before 9am than any other time of day or night.

2 – When I was four, I had my tonsils out – and I remember being upset that the doctors hadn’t given them back to me (I guess I assumed that I’d get a jar with them.. kind of gross, but they were mine!)

3 – If I had to choose: book or movie, book would win every time.  No exception.

4 – I am an all-or-nothing type of person.  I’ll give 100% or I don’t do it.  And in my own life, that also means I want it ALL.  Happiness, love, adventure, abundance, freedom, spectacular family life, a fabulous career – and more.

5 – One of my favourite “games” I play in my head as I watch children in my practice, at the park, or in the schoolyard is to imagine how funny (and kind of wonderful) it would be if grown ups acted that way.  (insert an adult doing any child-like activity, and I guarantee it will bring a smile to your face)

My Questions to Answer:

1.  If you had to eat only one food for the rest of your life, what would it be? (not food group, a single food) Avocado. Or bacon.  Ideally together… yum.

2.  What is the one thing on your “Bucket List” that you will do in 2013?  I will go downhill skiing/snowboarding with my children and husband. (to rekindle my love of winter!)

3.  What do you do for a living & if you weren’t doing it, what would you do instead? I am a chiropractor, with a thriving practice full of amazing, open-minded people who are seeking ways to be at their best.  I spend my time building relationships with families, inspiring them to remember that they are designed to be extraordinary and giving them the steps required to create incredible health through living “Life by Design.”  My greatest passion is working with pregnant women, children and babies, and I thrive on the hugs and pieces of one-of-a-kind artwork I get every day.   I work hard, but it’s never work.

4.  If you had to choose between not being able to hear or see, which sense would you rather not have and why?  I would choose to keep my sight because I can’t imagine not being able to see the beautiful faces of my children.  One of the most simple pleasures in life is to look around me and notice the beauty everywhere, especially in nature.  Although I would very sincerely miss music.  So, in my spirit of “all or nothing” – I will simply be grateful right now that I have both.  

5. If you were a flavour of ice cream, what would it be? Raspberry gelato. Sharp, bright, and full of zest – so full of flavour it leaves you feeling more alive.

My Five Questions for the bloggers I nominate:

1 – Would you rather have a life of extreme highs and lows (great success, bliss, and joy, accompanied by great challenge, grief and despair) or an even-keel life with neither of the extremes?

2 – Why did you start blogging?

3 – If you could change one thing in the world, what would it be?

4 – What has been your biggest challenge to overcome?

5 – If you could form an imaginary “council” to guide you in your life, what five people would you choose to have on it? (they could be alive or dead, fictional or real, famous or not)

My Five Blog Nominees:

Dr. Ed and Karen Osburn

http://synergyfamilywellnesscentre.com/

Me and Meg

http://meandmeg.com

Happy is the new healthy

http://happyisthenewhealthy.com/

What kids want us to know

http://wkwutk.wordpress.com/

Birth Goddess

http://www.birthgoddess.ca/blog/

“Tag!  You’re it!!”

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Holiday Travels

23 Sunday Dec 2012

Posted by Dr. Amy Robinson in Extended family, Thoughts

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Family time, Holiday travels

Perhaps it is true that people will move mountains if their motivation is high enough.  In our case, the joy of seeing our nieces and newborn nephew motivated us to make a rapid change of plans to try to beat winter storms, and leave a day earlier for our holiday travels. We have joyfully arrived in Nova Scotia to spend the holidays with family.

For us, moving mountains means that after a busy day of work on Thursday, we packed up the truck to drive through the night.  We drove through torrential rain, snow, and ice, often traveling at less than 80 km/hr – finally to arrive, after minimal sleep and almost 24 hours on the road.

The excited reception was worth every minute of the drive.

The magic moments of community bubble baths, early morning dance parties, and the joy of watching the little cousins constantly following Ethan and Audra around makes every potentially nerve-wracking moment of our long drive oh-so-worthwhile.  And the best part is that the best is yet to come – all to be documented with a plethora of pictures and video – and memories to last for all time.  Who wouldn’t move mountains for that?!

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The Santa Question

14 Friday Dec 2012

Posted by Dr. Amy Robinson in Fully expressed, Life Lessons, Thoughts

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

Anything is Possible, Believing in Magic, Santa Claus

“Mommy, Jenna told me that Santa is not real.”

I pause from doing the dishes, feeling a pang of sadness, regretting that a little bit of magic and innocence has been lost. I take a deep breath.   “What do you think?”

She pauses, defiantly throwing back her shoulders: “She said that parents are Santa Claus.”

Another pause.  “And how does that make you feel?” I ask quietly.

All of the sudden, her defiant stance droops, and she says with tears in her voice: “It makes me feel sad.”

I step in to give her a big hug, admittedly a little ticked off that her friend shattered the idea of Santa for her – rather than letting time bring her to her own ideas on her own time.  “Me too.”  I say.

When I was in grade two, I took it upon myself to solve the mystery of Santa Claus.  In my logical mind, I turned to the most-trusted source of all knowledge:  the encyclopedia.  Lo and behold, my question was answered with this sentence: Santa Claus is a legendary man.  This must have impacted me significantly, as I can still recall it as clear as day. I remember thinking Yup, that’s what I thought – but also feeling let down because I had wanted to believe.

So now, with my second child on the cusp of belief, I am back to pondering how to best deal with this in our home.  Both times when my children announced to me that they know that Santa is not real, I have paused, wondering what to say.  On the one hand, I am committed to being truthful with my children, but on the other hand, I want to preserve in them the magic of belief.  I remember my own childhood disappointment -and I want to raise them knowing that they live in a world of limitless possibilities.  So how does the Santa question fit in?  All that I can do is answer them truthfully, from what I feel in my heart to be true.

See, I get that children are going to come to the logical conclusion that parents buy the Santa gifts.  But I don’t think that that is what the real question was about.  I believe they were questioning what is real and what is not – and wanting to believe that all things are possible – I think on some level they are asking for permission to continue to dream.

And so when my children have stood before me, questioning some magic they hope to be true, imploring me with their eyes to simultaneously not shatter their dreams, but to also tell them the truth – it can pose a challenge to a parent.  To both of my children, I have continued the conversation with some questions.

“Do you believe that anything is possible?”  I ask.

“Yes,” they both have replied.  “Me too,” I say truthfully.

“And do you believe in magic?”  I ask.

“Yes,” they have replied.  “Me too” I say.

“And do you believe that love is the most powerful force in the world?”  I ask.

“Of course!” they answer.

“And do you think that anything done in the spirit of giving is coming from LOVE?”  I ask.

“Yes” they say.  

I pause, “Do you think that maybe Santa is the spirit of giving?” 

They pause, “Y-E-S” they answer slowly, with a hint of a smile appearing on their faces.

“Does it really matter who helps Santa?”  I ask. “What if we are all helping Santa be real, every time we are in the spirit of giving?” By now, they are grinning ear to ear.

I look at them  – not only as my children, but as intelligent human beings, and I tell them what I believe to be true:

“I believe that LOVE is the most powerful force in the universe, and we live in a world where anything is possible.  I believe that magic exists, I believe in the spirt of giving, and I choose to believe in Santa, too.”

With that, their eyes light up with joy –  and I have the sense that I have answered their question to their satisfaction.  

I can have this conversation, because for me it is true.  See, I believe that we all want to believe in magic and possibilities.  It feels good, filling us up with excitement.  So while our kids may have figured out that we play the Santa role in our house – the real issue, in my mind is this: that their belief that we live in a world of infinite possibilities is firmly intact.

And so, in our house, Santa will continue to visit for years on end.   Because we choose to keep the magic – no matter what anyone else says.

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The lofty side of this is that I am a mom on a mission. I am striving to create a better world by being the best, most inner-directed mother I know how to be. The other side of this is that I became a mom.... on purpose. Meaning, I chose this. But man, it can be hard.

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