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.

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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…)

With love for following my blogs, Dr. Amy Robinson

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.

My 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.

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.