Martine T

August 1990, Avignon. I was pregnant, nearing the end of my term. My gynecologist and I had decided to schedule an appointment to induce labor. My daughter was already a good size, and I wasn't necessarily built to have babies, especially not robust ones. Having her two weeks before the due date increased the chances of a natural birth. So they gave me an injection of some product to induce contractions. This lasted all afternoon; contractions every three minutes, but no dilation. Then they injected me with another product, this time to stop the contractions, so I could have a peaceful night before trying again the next day. August 21, 1990, 9:00 a.m. A new attempt: contractions every three minutes until 6:00 p.m. I was completely exhausted by the late afternoon. At that moment, the midwife and my gynecologist told me they were going to break my water to help the baby come out, as she was also starting to get tired. Waiting any longer could have become dangerous. My gynecologist broke my water and... nothing happened. The baby didn't come out. They then suggested a cesarean section. The anesthesiologist arrived and gave me an epidural. Then he came back a few minutes later and pinched the inside of my thigh. It hurt. We had to face the fact that the epidural hadn't worked. Somewhat embarrassed, he informed me he could not administer another one. After consulting, the decision was made: the only solution left was general anesthesia to perform the cesarean. By this time, it was already 9:00 p.m., and I was sad, disappointed, and tired. I found myself in the operating room, and the anesthesiologist put me to sleep. Once again, the anesthesia didn't work properly because I remember hearing my daughter cry. I also heard the midwife complimenting this "beautiful" baby and the gynecologist calling her "magnificent." I was very proud. At that moment, I felt myself leave my body, projected against the ceiling of the room, but without seeing anything at all. Total blackness. I knew they were below because I could hear them talking, but I couldn't do anything. I realized in that instant that we are only spirit. It was a first shock, but a positive shock, a wonder, a great discovery. A few seconds later, I began to hear voices. A man and a woman told me that if I went with them, I would no longer be in pain, that my daughter was beautiful and she didn't need me anymore, that I had done what I had to do and I could leave. I refused, telling them my daughter needed me, that I had to raise her, that I didn't want to go with them. They insisted, and I got angry. I let out a string of curses. They concluded: "They are more numerous than us. Next time." To explain, I felt internally that it was a battle. A battle of will, of spirit; it was a temptation. They argued for me to come with them, as if to turn me away from my responsibility as a mother. But I wanted to think of my daughter before thinking of myself. I had no desire to go with them. Again, I saw nothing, but through their voices, I felt they were dangerous. I ended up exhausted, spent, but I was finally able to return to my body. Twenty years later, I researched it and learned it was an NDE (Near Death Experience). And so it was a negative NDE. I am still convinced today that if I had accepted the offer from those voices, if I had told them I would go with them, I would never have returned to my body. It's obvious to me, I am absolutely certain. I know because I lived it. No one can convince me it's impossible because for me it is not a belief but a certainty, given that it is what I experienced. Later, in the recovery room, just before waking up, I heard a man's voice, warm, powerful, and resonant as if in a church. It said to me: "Martine, yesterday you fought the devil, that is good. Thanks to you, tomorrow the hostages will be released." And I woke up right after with the pleasant feeling of being in a warm bath. For context, this was referring to a hostage situation that was ongoing during the Gulf War with Saddam Hussein. A dramatic context where each day brought its share of anxiety-inducing news. The fact that this voice said my name, Martine, surprised me a great deal. I thought, "Oh, they know me." And then, I immediately felt the voice was that of God. That is still my firm conviction today. The notions of time it included in what it said really seemed like means it was very deliberately giving me to later verify the coherence of the events. At the same time, I had a very strong feeling of smallness; I was in awe. But I also felt I didn't deserve this contact. Many people search for God, and yet He speaks to me, a small thing who didn't think of Him before, who made fun of the subject when it was brought up in family discussions. I would also add that when He spoke to me, the information He transmitted existed on several levels and weren't just auditory or vocal. It was like Egyptian hieroglyphs, with each letter forming its own sound and, when added together, forming the word and the entire sentence. Then an image to aid understanding. The sentence He pronounced was relatively short, quick to hear and assimilate. Yet, in my mind, it took up a lot of space. I understood the first and primary message: it was a personal congratulation and encouragement. But simultaneously, when He said "thanks to you," I understood more than just those three words. I understood it was thanks to the fact that ultimately everything works that way. Thanks to the way the universe works, where choosing good, choosing the Other (since I was choosing my daughter), necessarily triggers a positive chain reaction; it will necessarily have repercussions on a much larger scale and for the good. From a small act of compassion towards anything, at any level, will follow a chain of light somewhere in the universe. Just like the slightest grain of sand falling on still water will create its share of waves crossing the entire surface. I also had an image when this voice spoke to me. I saw the little ball that was the Earth, our planet, and it seemed wrapped in a net. Each thread of this net lit up with a blue light that circulated at high speed through this terrestrial network. I knew immediately that the blue light represented a good deed, as if it were an energy, the energy of love. The earth seemed to regenerate.