Back about 19 years ago I got myself pregnant and had a miscarriage. My doctor recommended a procedure to make all thinks OK. But it didn't come out okay (that depends on the way you look at it). As soon as they anesthetized me I left my body and was hovering over the top of the operation room. My Dr. was screaming and running around, 'You killed her, you killed her!' I looked up on the left and saw my little girl, Molly and I could see she was scared. I knew I had passed over thousands of times and she needed to be taken over. So I took her in my arms and I saw the light off and up to the right. We went for the light. It took an instant and we were in front of my Grandfather, Sol and his sisters and my Grandmother's sisters. My Grandma Norah was also there, from my mother's side. I told them that Molly needed to be taken care of and gave her to my favorite aunt, Auntie Vic. They were so very glad to see me and hugs all around. Grandpa said "You know it is not your time, you have a mission to complete!" I said yes I know. At that time I knew what he was talking about. But now I have forgotten. Very frustrating.
I think it was a good experience for me. It just validated what I have known all along this lifetime.
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