On this date, 26 years ago, I was in an OB ward in a Fort Lauderdale hospital. I was 42 years old and my daughter was struggling to be born. I had been in labor for nearly 30 hours and my OB wanted to give me an epidural for pain. I told him to forget it – but not in such civil language – and asked for an alternative. A nurse injected me with Demerol and suddenly, I was elsewhere.
Demerol is an opiate, a narcotic. It mitigated the pain instead of vanquishing it, but whisked me away into some other space where my unborn daughter was saying good-bye to a bunch of people who loved her. I tried to explain to Rob what I was seeing and feeling, but my words came out as gibberish. Then, suddenly, I was in the delivery room and screaming.
Megan was breech. Fortunately- and synchronistically – my regular OB was gone that weekend and the substitute OB was an expert in forceps. Megan was born at 8:10 PM on August 31, 1989. I know the time because there was a large circular clock on the delivery room wall and as an astrologer, I wanted that time of birth.
During my first night in the maternity ward, the nurse had just brought Megan in for a feeding. I didn’t have enough milk and had to give her a bottle. After the nurse returned to take her back to the nursery, I collapsed against the pillow and shut my eyes and heard someone calling my name. I was in a ward with three other women and thought it was one of them. I sat up, looked around, but the other three women were asleep.
I lay back down and shut my eyes and was dropping off to sleep when it happened again – my name being called. This time, I realized it was an internal thing, so I just lay there and thought, Who’s calling me?
I had a very clear image of a young blonde woman whom I knew was Megan, at some time in the future. She may have been in her forties and was in the midst of a regression. She became aware of me and asked about the circumstances of her birth and her birth information, like place and time. She asked where Rob and I lived when she was born and other particulars about our lives and what was going on in the world.
I gave her all the information and asked why she needed it. She said that a lot of information had been lost in some catastrophe – my sense was that it related to climate. Then she thanked me and that was it. I sat up in bed, blown away by what had just happened, and decided that as soon as Megan was old enough to understand, I would tell her all this and make sure she knew all the details she’d requested.
Several days after she was born, my friend and astrology mentor Renie Wiley stopped by our place to talk about Megan’s natal chart. She had spelled Rob during my long labor so that he could get some sleep and as soon as I was out of the hospital, had sent me to a local New Age bookstore to getg Megan’s birth chart done. This was in the days before smart phones and apps that enable me to erect a natal chart in five seconds.
“My God, this girl is artistic, has a wonderful imagination and is quite intuitive. She has a way with animals, too, and if she doesn’t go to vet school, she’ll do this animal thing in some other unique way. She’s very bright.
“She’s going to have allergies – but she’ll move past it. For most of her childhood, I think she’ll be a picky eater. She’ll grow out of it, though. And with three planets in Virgo, she’ll also try her hand at writing. That South Node in Leo indicates she may delve into acting at some point. And oh, she’s going to have tons of friends and they’re all going to congregate at your place.
“If she ever has a 9-5 job, she’ll be bored to tears. Her career will be erratic, unique, she’ll create her own niche and art and animals will be a part of whatever she does. There are strong past life connections between her chart and yours and Rob’s. She’s a joyful soul, Trish.”
There was a lot more. But today, 26 years after Megan was born, I’m happy to report that much of what Renie said that day is true. Megan was a very picker eater as a kid, had allergies and outgrew them, and has always loved animals. The first word she uttered, at seven months, was cat. The second word was dada. She attended a dramatic arts high school and majored in art in college. She did an internship at Dolphins Plus in the Florida Keys, taking care of dolphins, and for her senior year thesis did a series of dolphin paintings based on underwater photos she had taken. Fractured Perspectives asks: who is imprisoned? The dolphins or us? She also did an internship at Disney’s Epcot, working with dolphins.
Today, she has three part-time jobs- as a dog walker, an artist for Paint Nite, and recently began painting portraits of people’s pets.
She is deeply intuitive, is writing a novel, still eats coffee yogurt for breakfast, and is the most joyful person I’ve ever known.
Happy birthday, Megger!