A Discovery

 Originally Written Between 2017-2020                         

I was born on Saturday, June 10, 1944 at two minutes past noon – weighing 3 pounds, 3 ounces and 17 inches in length.  You see, I was two months’ early.  My mom thought her water had broken – but instead of water running down her legs, blood was pooling around her feet.  My dad placed her on the back seat of the car, grabbed my almost 3-year old brother, Steve, and dropped him off at my grandparents’ home a few blocks away, and broke all sorts of speed limits on his way from Forest Lake to St. Joseph’s Hospital in St. Paul.  My mom told me years later that she estimated that dad must have been driving close to 95 miles an hour on old two-lane Highway 61 because all she could see while lying down on the back seat were the telephone poles quickly flying by.  And, they made it to the hospital in about 15 minutes!

 

Dr. Lilleberg, mom’s OB, was waiting for her in the operating room where he subsequently delivered me by Caesarian section.  I was considered a “placenta privia” baby – where the placenta is delivered before the baby; hence all the blood on the floor in mom’s kitchen.

 

Dad told me that I was quickly baptized (we were in a Catholic hospital afterall – and Catholic) and placed in an incubator.  You see, back in those days – 1944 – the incubator was the only help a preemie was given.  I was in the incubator for five weeks.  Mom and dad were not allowed to hold me.  I was named Mary Barbara because mom wanted two girls; one named “Mary” and the other named “Barbara” and since they weren’t sure they’d ever have any more children I was given both names.

 

Dr. Lilleberg saved my life.  But, it wasn’t until about 30 years’ later did my mom learn that he also saved her life that afternoon.  And, it took another 25 years after that before my mom told me her story.

 

You see, some time in the 1970’s during her yearly appointment with Dr. Lilleberg, she said, “So, tell me, Dr. Lilleberg, have you ever lost any patients in childbirth?”  He replied, “Yes, two.  And one of them was you.”  That was the confirmation mom needed to tell him what she had experienced. This is her story:

 

Upon arrival at the hospital, mom was immediately rushed to the operating room and anesthetized.  The next thing she knew, she was watching the doctor yelling and giving orders to the others in the room.  She remembers “looking down” at the table and all the chaos surrounding her.  She then saw herself floating – very slowly – to a white light.  She said she was very calm.  The next thing she knew, the light was gone, she was fully awake, and was told that she had a baby girl.  

 

Mom told me that for 30 years, she honestly thought that she had a dream while she was on the operating table.  It wasn’t until the 1970’s when a few books were written about near-death experiences did she believe that it wasn’t a dream; but something that really did happened to her.  And, she needed Dr. Lilleberg to tell her his point of view.  He said that he knew she had died at some point during the C-section and that he was able to revive her.  I so wish I had asked my mom more questions about her experience.  But, maybe that’s all she could remember.

 

Now, that’s my mom’s story.  My husband, Norm’s, story is a little bit different.  Norm had a second heart attack about 15 year’s ago.  While waiting in the ER for a room to open up for him, Norm’s heart stopped.  We later learned that Norm’s heart had stopped for six seconds; and while they didn’t have to use the paddles, a nurse did have to hit him with his fist a couple of times to revive him.  The next day, I told Norm what had been going through my mind at that time and asked him what he was thinking (hoping it would be of me and our kids).  He said, “Nope, never thought about you – I was sleepy and had a feeling of complete peace.”  Well, there goes the theory of having your life flash before your eyes!  I’d like to think that he was at peace because he did know that he is loved – by his family, friends, and me!

 

So – floating above one’s body – a feeling of calm – slowly going toward a white light – and a feeling of complete peace.  Doesn’t sound so scary now, does it?