As a very young child, I always had a sense of security and well being. I felt loved and watched over by God. I knew at a young age that I had picked my parents and my siblings, and I told this to anyone who would listen. Of course, no one did.

My pre-birth environment, or "heaven" as I like to call it, was truly a wondrous place, filled with love, comfort and understanding. I remember that it was once again time to go to earth. I believe I discussed the life I would lead on earth with someone more advanced spiritually than I. I don't remember speaking, just thinking.

As I selected my life, I remember having many loving souls around me and carefully picking my parents and one sibling after another. I've always been puzzled as to why everyone doesn't remember this. I even remember them joking about how many souls I was choosing. (I'm from a family of ten counting my parents) I remember feeling a deep love toward my family and taking comfort in the fact that these souls would be with me. (If I had any idea how much aggravation most of them would cause me, I might have decided to be an only child!)

There were souls with me until the day I was born. I have memories of flitting in and out of my fetus body. I believe this was allowing me to get used to my physical earth body. And then came the actual delivery.

After the initial excitement and swooosh of being in a dark tunnel, suddenly I couldn't breath. Feelings of confusion, panic and pain enveloped my body. I felt as though I could not take this earth world. I wondered why I had not been told of this harshness. Just when I thought it all was over, I was born. Thank God. I still remember the feeling of relief more vividly than anything else.

Ever since I can remember, I've had an almost phobic reaction regarding anything touching my neck. Normal things - a scarf, a turtleneck sweater, a necklace. These things set off a physical reaction leaving me feeling panicked and confused.

Not until a conversation with my mother when I was sixteen did it all come together. We were sitting at the kitchen table peeling potatoes for supper one day. Somehow we got on the subject of my delivery. She said that, of her eight children, my delivery was the hardest.

When I asked why, she said, "Oh, it was awful. The doctor was trying to deliver you but the umbilical cord was wrapped several times around your throat. In a panic, he ran from the delivery room. The nurse ran after him, pleading for him to come back. To no avail. She came back into the room red-faced, but determined. She said, 'Kathleen, we are going to deliver this baby together.'" And they did.

When my mother finished this story, I felt vindicated. Memories of my delivery flooded back to me -- panic, pain, not being able to breathe -- confirming my pre-birth and birth memories. I believe my mother's story was meant to affirm my connection to God. Someone up there is watching over me. Of this I am quite sure.

Janice Burpee
Janeeeka2@aol.com