My friend and I met as schoolteachers at the 
same school several years ago.  She was pregnant when we met and chose 
me to be present at the birth of her child because she was a single 
mother and afraid of being alone.  It was a tremendous honor to be 
invited into the delivery room because, even though I have children of 
my own, it was a fascinating opportunity to see a birth without 
experiencing the pain myself!  
My friend delivered a baby boy 
named Mich'l and it was an incredible experience.  I joked to her that I
 saw her son before she did! (I saw his head poking out before he was 
born and she didn't have a mirror to see for herself!)
Tragically,
 my friend passed away suddenly just months after her son was born.  He 
has been raised by her parents ever since.  The boy now goes to the 
school where his mother and I taught and this year he is in my 4th Grade
 class.  It is with a heavy heart that I teach him each day.  I have 
never told him that I was there for his birth because I didn't want the 
other students to think that he had special treatment and I didn't want 
to upset him with thoughts of his mother.  Perhaps his grandparents told
 him that I was there, but I'm not sure.  He does know, however, that 
his mom and I were friends.  (This makes sense because he knows that she
 used to teach at our school.)
Flash forward to last week; 9 and 
one half years after his birth and his mother passing. I was speaking 
with my class about our memories for a poetry writing assignment.  I 
asked them to think back to the earliest memories they have.  Most 
students talked about Kindergarten, or perhaps day care, or vague 
memories of old toys, etc. from when they were about 3-4 years old.
Mich'l
 put up his hand and said that he remembers watching everyone from up in
 the sky, and being in his mother's belly before he was born.  He said 
that when he was waiting to be born, he was invisible and he was in my 
grey car with me on the way to the hospital while I listened to the 
song, 'Winter, Spring, Summer or Fall.' (This is what he called the 
song. He likely doesn't know the real name, and he probably hasn't heard
 it since but it was 'You've Got a Friend' by James Taylor.  I used to 
have the cassette tape in that car!) This is bizarre because I did drive
 a grey car at that time and I haven't had one for the past 7 years (2 
years after he was born).  I can't imagine he even knows that song from 
today's radio music.  My heart started to beat like crazy.  How would he
 know that?  Even his grandparents wouldn't know that and his mom 
wouldn't have known that before she died.  Even if she did, somehow, he 
was only three months old when she passed.  How would she tell him?  I 
certainly never told her what song was on in my car on the way to the 
hospital so I can't explain this!
Mich'l said that he remembers 
me stopping for gas and asking the attendant for directions to the 
hospital (true).  He said that he wanted me for his mommy because he 
liked my voice when I was speaking to the attendant.  (I did stop for 
gas and I was kind of lost going to a rural hospital, so I asked for 
directions.)  Then he said that he remembers that the parking lot was 
partially closed for construction, so I had to park on a corner and run 
to the hospital.  By this point my jaw was almost on the floor and the 
whole class was starting at me.  I had never even told the class (or 
Mich'l) that I was at his birth.  The class must have thought this was 
one crazy story.  
Then Mich'l said the most incredible thing. He
 said that while his 'real mom' was in labor, he asked God if I could be
 his mom because he knew that his 'real mom' wouldn't survive very long,
 and he was afraid of being alone on Earth.  Apparently, he was told 
that he couldn't have me for his 'real mom' but that everything would be
 OK and he would still get to be around me during his life.
Mich'l
 said that he kept begging me to be his mother.  He watched me go down 
the hallway from the birthing suite to the waiting lounge to make a 
phone call from a pay phone (true; there was no cell signal in the 
hospital), and that while I was there I was very cold so I put on a 
sweater that someone else left on the waiting room chairs.  By this 
point the hairs on the back of my neck were standing up.  I hate to 
admit this, but I did find a nice warm cardigan in that waiting room and
 I put it on because I was so cold.  I've never done anything like that 
before, but it was a small hospital and there were literally no other 
people in the labor ward and I waited to see if anyone would come to 
claim the sweater, and no one did.  I was so cold! I put it on and ended
 up wearing it home (Shame on me, I know, I still feel guilty about 
that. I've felt so guilty that I never wore it again, especially because
 it reminds me of my friend who ended up passing away.  Regardless, I 
have to mention it because I've never told anyone about taking someone 
else's sweater, and it's a huge part of this story!)
Mich'l 
concluded by saying that he watched me make the phone call and put on 
the other person's sweater, and that's the last thing he remembers.  He 
was born about thirty minutes after I went to the lounge and made that 
phone call.
Later, I privately said to Mich'l, 'Yes, I was at 
your birth.  How did you know all of that stuff?'  His grandparents 
weren't at the birth and there was literally no way he would have known 
any of that.  How could he make it up?  He said that it's easy. He just 
had to think back to his earliest memories.  He asked me why I don't 
remember being born too and he said, 'It's OK. My life did turn out OK; 
so don't worry about not being my mom.' WOW.
I write this in all 
sincerity as my evidence that there must be some kind of heaven up 
there; if he could have memories of watching his birth and waiting to be
 born.   I considered the idea that his mom speaks to him from the 
afterlife, and maybe she told him herself but how would she even know 
this information?
NDERF.org, #32304 
 
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