The following is a former winner of the Amazing but Incredibly True Story Contest.
Copyright Muse Enterprises for the author, 1998
Prior to my mother's death seven years ago we were not very close, as most 18 year old girls are not with their mothers. Since her death, however, I have felt an amazing attachment to her. It's almost as if there is this "thread" which is attached from myself, going up into the air and attached to her. I have had amazing psychic "feelings" since her passing. My mother was much more in tune with her psychic abilities than I. Prior to her passing she would do readings and practiced healing with crystals, etc... I admit I never took her very seriously. I was closed minded to it all.
One day while we were car-pooling to work, as we were pulling out of the driveway she had a strange look on her face and shuddered. I asked her what was wrong, and she said "I'm not going to live to see my 40th birthday," very matter-of-factly. I said "Don't be silly. Let's go."
My mother died eight months prior to her 40th birthday. Since then, I have been very in tune with my own abilities, almost as if she passed them to me at her death. I remember I was the one holding her hand and at her bedside at the hospital when she finally passed after being in ICU for 2 weeks.
This gets even more interesting....
Several years later I was married and pregnant with my first child, who I knew during the entire pregnancy was going to be a boy (every time I thought of the life inside, I saw various shades of blue). I had had the name Nicholas picked out for several months. I had a very difficult pregnancy, full of complications as my petite size and body frame was not supporting a pregnancy very well.
During labor, I was in a great deal of pain, and when it was finally time to go into delivery, I pushed for what seemed an eternity, but could just not get the head through. I was very weak by that point and I laid back, closed my eyes, and for some reason said, crying, "Mom, I can't do this, I can't deliver this baby." Out of no where, it felt as though someone else had climbed into my body and taken over. My body was physically pushing to deliver my son, but I was not putting the effort into doing it myself. I had a feeling of standing over myself and only watching the birth. I felt very disconnected to what was happening.
A few minutes later, I was the proud mother of the most beautiful, perfect in every way, 7lb, 9oz, blue eyed baby boy. At that moment, without thinking, the name Michael popped into my head. My mother's name was Mickey, so without hesitation I named my son Michael. That was five years ago. I will never forget that moment, I could not have done it without her.
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