I was born on January 27, 1940 in Moline, Illinois during a taxi ride to the hospital with my parents. It was around 9:00 in the morning. My birth began as we approached the hospital. I was about halfway when the driver went fast around a turn and the car slid into a snow bank. Everyone slid to one side of the cab. My mother's legs came together, and she crushed my head with her hands. At the hospital, we were rushed inside where a doctor finished the delivery. He told my parents that I was dead with a crushed head. He started massaging my heart, cleared my air way, and pushed my head so it wasn't so mashed. I started breathing again.
For most of my life, birth memories have been images that reappear in dreams. Then I began to understand what it all meant. I've also had other death experiences.