Seeing Our Children as Souls

How I learned that our children are often older souls than we are

I cried at the gender reveal party for my second child. I cried not out of joy, but because I was disappointed that my child was to be a boy not a girl. 

Take a minute to judge me…. Ok, let’s continue. 

I (like so many mothers) was sure that my child was coming Earth-side for no other reason other than to be, well, my child. 

I had dreams and expectations for the — most definitely a female — baby even before it was born. 

She would be my best friend. A strong, powerful female who would lack my insecurities and inherit my free spirit. 

At the gender reveal party all those dreams were taken away. My husband was very clear on telling me that this child would be his last child. 

So while dressed in a pink dress, amongst all my family and friends, I cried.

It took me a few weeks to get over my own self, but eventually it hit me:

Oh, my child is not coming only for me. He has a father, a brother, grandparents, cousins, and future friends to connect with.

He has his own soulmates, his own path and purpose. 

Ethan (our youngest)  taught me this lesson in such a way that it impacted my parenting profoundly. I began to look at him and my other children as souls rather than little mini versions of my husband and me. 

I began to listen to them and be present with them to see what their soul might need from me. 

I started to understand that my role as their mother was to help them live into their purpose — even if it meant going against my own agenda. 

When Ethan was about one years old, it was time for me to go back into my work full-time, so I needed to hire someone to help me care for him.

I was so nervous about making the wrong choice, and bringing someone into my house to care for the most precious gift I had. 

As I was dressing Ethan for the three interviews we had with possible caretakers, I looked at him and thought, “Wait, maybe you have a soulmate you want to work with?”

As he sat up on his dressing table, I whispered to him “Okay, you little old soul. I’m going to introduce you to three women. Tell me who your person is.”

The first two women were lovely, but Ethan didn’t show any sort of special interest. I was hoping for a giggle, a spontaneous hug, or at least a thumbs up. I got nothing. 

In walks the third woman. As we sat down on the couch to chat, I noticed she was wearing the exact same outfit as Ethan. Black pants and a gray t-shirt with an American flag. 

Isn’t this wild?!

I snapped a photo because I needed to explain to my husband how I knew she was the right fit for Ethan and our family. 

Since then, when making a big decision for the kids, I always check in with their souls first. Because oftentimes their human selves are telling me one thing, but they’re soul is trying to guide me down another path. 

It’s these moments when I am most grateful for my intuition and the studies I have dedicated myself to. 

Of course, I love being able to use my intuition for clients and the collective, but as a Cancer mama, I’m so grateful to be able to understand my children on a soul level. 

Even when I read for clients and begin to see their spirit babies (future children), the souls always seem to have their own plans — like deciding exactly when they’ll come to Earth because they’re looking for a specific Zodiac sign. My favorite is when they give advice to their future parents. 

Perhaps I seem special because I have this ability to tap into my children’s souls, but I’m really not. That’s what I want to tell you. 

You, too, have the ability to know your child (or future child) at a soul level. Because, after all, that is the form you’ve always known them as. You are soulmates.

If you’re hoping to unlock this remembering in you, I would love to invite you to my intuition program, Soul Reading Method. 

Click here to join today. 

The children being born in recent times are the Children of the Sun. A lot of what we’re doing in our lifetimes is just setting up the world for them. May we all be able to listen.