MYSTIC RADIO® with Robin Alexis shares chapter from her book Raising Humanity
The Metaphysical Mother Robin Alexis recently appeared on The Real L Word with Stamie and Tracy Ryerson. Blessings to the 3 children! Blessings to the little soul sent to the Light! Blessings to a little soul returning when the timing is right!
By Michelle Dennehy,
a chapter from RAISING HUMANITY by Robin Alexis and 22 Storytellers
Keep your face to the sunshine and you cannot see the shadow.
I hand the money to Sherry and say goodbye, automatically reciprocating her pleasant smile. I close the door and step out into the crisp noontime air. It feels good to have come full circle and I am relieved, excited really, to be walking out of my doctor’s office feeling so content and confident. This time last year was a whole different story. So much has changed and healed since then. It is September 26, 2002, a year and fifteen days since my last doctor’s appointment. That was where I’d been on that fateful 9/11 morning. I can recall it as clear as day, just as any human being can that was a part of it. It was a morning filled with emotions and images that continue to ripple out, then pulse back into me, impressing upon my core. The details are as vivid as the ones I recall about the day that the space shuttle Challenger crashed: how my friends and I were all huddled together in our sixth-grade classroom, sitting quietly, staring intently at the television screen, captivated as the massive steel bird shot into the sky like a missile, then broke apart into streams of smoke and debris as it dove back towards earth. Even at age 10, in my small hometown of Wolfeboro, New Hampshire, I could feel the intimate loss of one of our own.
Christa McAuliffe was the first civilian in space and she was a teacher. My parents were teachers. Up until 9/11, that was the most defining chunk of history that I had ever actually witnessed, the first national tragedy that had ever lodged into and been absorbed by my young psyche. As Watergate, Vietnam, and the assassination of John F. Kennedy had devastated my parents’ generation, September 11, 2001 was the pivotal event that would unite and crush all of us in three calculated and callus blows. That dark day would rock a sleepy nation from its slumber. Looking back, there was such irony to that morning.
It was cool, crisp, and bright. The sun’s rays were bursting through the rich greens of the grass and trees, seeming to illuminate them from the inside out. It was the kind of morning that makes you move instantly away from summer and start sprinting towards fall. There was newness in the air that you could taste, as earthy smells began to rise up from the ground, gently seeping into the palate and lungs with each hungrily inhaled breath. Soon the trees would be erupting in an unbridled symphony of color across every hillside – that last brilliant burst of life before death as the earth begins to turn herself inward and away from the coming harshness of winter. I have come to love this season, to derive great inspiration and peace in witnessing its ever-changing process. I could feel that excitement pulsing through me as I rushed out the door and jumped into my waiting car. I had just dropped off my 13-month-old son, Sean, at my best friend Ryan’s house so that I could escape for my annual ob/gyn exam. Ryan and I had joked about it as I’d left, rolled our eyes at one another and laughed – what a way to spend that rare hour away! I was, however, looking forward to seeing the women who had taken such good care of me during my pregnancy. It had been a whole year since I had seen any of them, so I focused on the idea of that reunion instead of the actual reason for the visit. Then I noticed that the energy around me had changed. Pulled from the inner world of my thoughts, I realized that the music that had been streaming gently from my radio had stopped. I was instantly captured by the adrenaline-charged tones of reporters’ voices as they spoke, tones etched with human confusion, fear, and concern. I arrived at the office at 9:07, just as the news of the second plane crash began to tear across the airwaves. I killed the ignition, held my breath, and felt the world fall into surreal silence. Could this really be happening?
I forced myself out of the car and made my way across the parking lot. This was bad. This was really bad. I could feel the tension beginning to pool at the bottom of my stomach. I opened the office door and padded softly into the reception area, wondering if anyone in the office knew what was going on yet. Sherry was the first person that I saw. “Why don’t you have a seat, Michelle. Mary will be right with you.” She paused a moment, then continued. “She just got off the phone with her son. He’s okay as far as we know, but she hasn’t heard from him since the second plane hit. His office is only a couple of blocks away from the World Trade Center.” Sherry’s voice dropped off and I floated to the couch in the waiting room as my brain struggled to assimilate what it had just heard. Mary’s son was there – in the city. I sat in stunned disbelief as the last layer of protection that I had fashioned around myself was blown away. There had been something about knowing that I was tucked away in the valleys of the White Mountains that had made me feel safe up until that point. But reality was starting to set in. I could no longer pretend. In this little office, five hours away from the terrorist attacks, I suddenly felt exposed and insecure. I was about to look into the eyes of a woman who was being intimately affected by the unthinkable horror that was unfolding.
I sat in the exam room wearing a loosely fastened gown, strategically covered by a sheet. What the hell am I doing here? Is there a way to excuse myself politely? I imagined that the last thing this poor woman wanted to deal with right now was me. There was a light knock on the door and Mary entered, my file pressed to her chest. She seemed all right on the outside, as far as I could tell. I watched her walk in and take her place on the stool in front of me. Calmly she opened my file and scanned the top sheet of paper. She asked me how I was feeling. “Is Sean doing well? And Patrick?” I was caught off-guard by how present she was and how easily I was able to answer her questions. She was genuinely interested in what I was saying. I watched her, while trying not to let her know it. How could she possibly have it so together? It was amazing. She asked me again about Sean and, like any mother who is absolutely in love with her child, I was soon gushing about how wonderful he was, how much Patrick and I were enjoying him, and how blessed we felt to have this precious little boy in our lives. And that is when I saw it. My ramblings were beginning to touch her somewhere deep inside her heart. I continued to talk and watched as her eyes moved downward, refocused inward. I watched what must have been her own sweet memories of motherhood play themselves back inside her mind’s eye. A reminiscent smile crossed her lips and her eyes began to glisten as she raised them to mine. “They are truly wonderful, aren’t they? Gifts from God.” I nodded my head in agreement, softly offering my sympathy about her son. She looked to the ceiling and thanked me, then declined my offer to reschedule my appointment.
I was completely awed by her composure, inspired and impressed by her ability to keep it together, and honored to witness this woman’s strength in this difficult moment. I left having glimpsed her in a whole new light, as both a midwife and as a mother. I drove home tangled in swirling feelings; everything seemed more and more unbelievable with each minute that passed. The Pentagon had been hit, two other planes had been brought down, and one of the towers had collapsed. The emotional overload was beginning to make me feel numb. The irony was that this was the first appointment that I had had since Sean was six weeks old. Over the past 13 months, I had felt more love and more joy than I had ever known in the rest of my 27 years combined. And Patrick and I had just decided that we were ready to have a second child. I had gone to the office that morning bursting with pure excitement at the news and yet, somehow, because of what was happening, I had not been able to mention it. I hadn’t even thought to mention it. Everything seemed so up in the air, so unstable. With one swift and colossal act of hate, ignorance, and violence, I found myself stopped dead in my tracks, not knowing which way to turn. Another baby? Bring another baby into this world? The line that had been drawn that day was a line that would separate what had been before from what was now. Our nation, our world, would never ever be the same. I was forced to take a major step back.
My heart began to reevaluate my plans and dreams. How could a loving and conscious soul bring a child into such a chaotic and hateful place? I felt warm tears as they began to flood my eyes, and looked towards heaven in an attempt to keep them at bay. And that was when my consciousness spoke back, when my inner voice, my higher voice, my clearer self in an unknowing internal debate responded: If that is who you are, how could you not? How could you not be the ones to have children? With that answer, logic began to fight off fear. As I stepped away from my doubt and into my soul, I felt those words and knew them to be true. I may not be a soldier or a person who will ever set foot upon a physical battlefield, but I am a warrior of sorts. I hold a very important and powerful place in this war: I am a mother, a woman responsible for molding my child’s sense of what is right and what is good. In my heart, I work from places of faith, love, honor, respect, loyalty, and compassion. Although I take the time to teach my son of the consequences of his actions and am not afraid to hold him responsible for his not-so-good choices, I much prefer to reinforce lovingly the brilliant ones that he does. I parent with as much patience, understanding, and forgiveness as I can muster. Through my choices and my movements and in the ways that I choose to communicate and interact with others, I teach my son and those around me how to choose, how to be, and how to communicate. It is a simple thing that we Americans can do: live well, love often, and laugh much. It is in the conscious raising of our children and the nurturing of our relationships with one another that we will find the greatest reward. Over time, the battle will be won by raising smart, compassionate, and caring children, immersed in kind, loving, and supportive environments.
I am a stay-at-home mom. I do not receive a paycheck for the things that I do. It is the hugs and kisses and giggles that melt into belly laughs that make it all worthwhile for me. I am with our son every day, and the quality and ease of our relationship have proven to be greater gifts than I ever would have imagined before he was born. I am blessed to live a simple life and to be married to a man who wants the same. We have forgone the road that might have brought our family greater financial stability and, in doing so, have been repaid ten-thousand-fold by the richness that is our family. Our greatest wealth and success is in the open and loving relationships that we have chosen to create and nurture with one another and with our son, families, and friends. A deep sigh escaped my lungs as I exhaled the fresh autumn air that swirled through my car and, somehow, despite the morning’s turbulence, felt peace beginning to settle into my soul. My heart burst open as I felt a deeper form of validation, an internal validation pulsing through my chest, for what I have chosen to do with my life. There is no more meaningful, rewarding, or challenging a career than dedicating your energies to being there for your children, through all the good and all the bad (especially the bad).
As I neared campus, where my husband worked and we lived, I became emotionally overwhelmed by my need to be with my family, to hold my son in my arms, and to feel my husband’s arms wrapped tightly around us. I could not get to them fast enough. Two years after this story was written, our angelic daughter, Kaely Weston, was born. Divinely, Mary was the one to deliver her. She is absolutely perfect and we are all (Sean included) completely in love with her. Peace and faith be with you in whatever road you may be on. * * *
Robin Alexis is a clairvoyant and the Metaphysical Mother. Her goal is to empower people to recognize, understand and treasure their soul’s wisdom. She believes that being clairvoyant is a divine right. The author of Raising Humanity and Robin’s Song: Treasure Your Soul’s Wisdom, Robin is the founder of Metaphysical Mothering®. She specializes in the karmic connection between parents and their unborn children. As a paranormal fertility expert, she teaches women who need help conceiving, how to nurture and empower themselves. She also speaks to babies who are in the womb or who are newborns. She has appeared on many National Radio and Television programs and has her own radio program in Seattle Washington. "Mystic Radio with Robin Alexis" can be heard on Alternative Talk-AM 1150-KKNW and the Internet at: www.1150kknw.com on Wednesdays at 12:00 PM (Pacific Time) Robin Alexis was recently featured on The Real L Word. She gave a metaphysical mothering reading to Stamie and Tracy Ryerson.