Meeting Michael…
By: Shari Dworkin-Smith, Psychic Medium
Tags: Afterlife, Cancer, Psychic, Pregnancy, Beyourself

Michael & Kelly

To say my first-born son is strong willed is kind of like saying Godzilla was a big lizard and to be honest, I think he has been that way since the moment he became self-aware. He arrived 13 days late and even then, they had to go in there and get him. He wasn’t coming out for love or money! Though now I understand, I likely could have coaxed him out with a bacon cheeseburger down my shorts!

We waited for days… we did all the things you’re supposed to do when you’re just plain OVER waiting for that kid to come out… We went for long walks, drove the car on bumpy roads, had sex, tried jumping up and down… (just a little!) We even had “The Salad” …Twice!!

In Los Angeles, there is an Italian restaurant with something on the menu called The Salad and it’s well known to bring on labor in pregnant women… Walk in pregnant and they know why you’re there. It really does work, and it did bring on contractions (both times) but that kid just didn’t want to come out.

My water finally broke early in the morning on a Friday. We went to the doctor and she sent us home with instructions to be at the hospital within the next 12 hours, sooner if active labor started and to eat something before we went. It was a quiet day, not really any contractions to speak of but, knowing we needed to be at the hospital by 5p (and knowing LA traffic) we headed out around 4pm. But it was FRIDAY… in the RAIN… LA people react to rain the way we Florida folk would react to snow. They completely freak out and forget how to drive! To get to the hospital from the Valley we had to take the 134 freeway through the pass to Pasadena but there’s no carpool lane. And THAT is when the contractions started in earnest!

Ever been in a major traffic jam? Know how you kind of creep along with the same cars beside you? Yeah, it was like that… There I was, in full on labor, in the middle of Friday afternoon traffic, in the pass, creeping along the freeway, and trying like hell to look normal to the car next to me! I seriously wanted to make a sign that said, “All you people get out of the way, I’m having a baby here!!” But to be honest, I don’t think it would have helped. As it turned out, there wasn’t really any rush to get to the hospital because my son still had no interest in making an appearance.

We were settled into a room and the waiting began in earnest. I wanted a natural birth, planned for a natural birth, didn’t want to hear about anything other than a natural birth but… after eighteen hours of pretty unproductive labor, we were still barely at 4cm. Since my water had been broken for so long, the doctor decided we needed Pitocin to try and move things along. No help there. After six hours of that we were “maybe” another half centimeter dilated.

The doctor came in, looked at my numbers and said, “Yeah, it’s time we get this baby out of you, we’re going to take you for a C-Section now.” It was the last thing I wanted to hear. My husband and I needed a minute to absorb this new information but the look on her face said it didn’t matter, this was happening; now. What she was trying not to say was that both the baby and I were in trouble, heart rates, blood pressures, things were going in the wrong direction and they needed to get the baby out fast.

I don’t remember a lot after that. I don’t remember leaving my room or going into the operating room, but I do remember the anesthesiologist with the brilliant blue eyes looking down at me and telling me it was going to be ok. I remember hearing the doctor say clear as day “Oh my god” when they opened me up and I remember that there wasn’t crying when they pulled the baby out. Finally, there was crying, and they brought the baby to where I could see him, and then he was gone in a flurry of activity. My body was filled with meconium and he had swallowed it and needed attention. I was bleeding too much, and the meconium was all over the inside of my body which, among other things, was creating some serious issues. The calm blue eyes told my panic-stricken brown ones not to worry, everything was going to be ok, and then he was gone.

I wouldn’t fully understand the danger we were in until much later but, when I finally woke up in the recovery room, the incision into my abdomen went from hip bone to hip bone and they poured pans of fluid into my body to flush out the meconium before they closed me up. At the same time, they were pumping IV bags of fluid (and I’m sure antibiotics as well) in to me as fast as they could to help get me stabilized. By the time I woke up I felt like an over filled water balloon!

The nurse asked me to wiggle my toes but, when she pulled back the blanket off my feet, you could barely even see them! I have always had long narrow feet. I think they look disproportionate sticking out from my scrawny ankles but now they looked like giant dinner rolls and you could barely even see my toes! There was no way I was wiggling them. After a while though, she decided it was enough proof I wasn’t paralyzed if could move my legs and we were moved to a room so I could finally hold my son.

Recovery from an emergency C-Section after a full 24 hours+ of labor is long and slow. My body had been through so much and getting out of bed for anything was an ordeal.

Eventually I started to get the hang of the whole mom thing and decided to join the Mommy and Me class at our synagogue.

It was great to meet other moms who were going through the same things, and the women in this group became some of my closest friends.

And then there was Michael…

Michael and his husband adopted their son and decided he would be the one to stay home until Patrick was ready for school and we quickly fell into a regular schedule of meetups and play dates. With kids in strollers, we’d sit at McDonald’s and drink coffee, or walk in the park. As the kids got older, we graduated to monitoring them on the playground or play space. Michael and I understood each other well and nothing was off limits for our talks. Though I don’t specifically remember if we ever talked about life after death or the continuity of the soul, I never thought Michael believed in any of that.

Michael was one of my closest friends and our friendship would continue long after we left LA and moved our family back to Florida. Since I started my Mary Kay business while we were living in LA, and I was able to keep my customers and consultants, I went back regularly to work with them. No trip to LA was complete without a visit with Michael. Even when they moved from Burbank up to Palmdale, about an hour north of the city, we would still make time to connect whenever possible. Even though I knew we would always be part of each other’s lives; I had no idea how much was about to change.

Michael got sick… We hadn’t spoken for a while when he called me, and I knew instantly that something was wrong.

He had cancer, and it was bad. It was everywhere, and he wasn’t yet sure what his treatment options would be.

He was a treasured friend, my “mommy and me bff,” and my heart broke to hear this news. I called or texted as often as possible in the days that followed, but there would not be many. Six weeks later, he was gone.

My friendship with Michael had a huge impact on me, my life in LA, and my family… and for all of that, it was nothing compared to the impact he had on me after his passing. After Michael died, he became the biggest busybody in my life.

His sole mission, or I guess I should say, his soul mission, was to get me to reopen the doors to my higher mind, to welcome back the voices in my ears and step into my true purpose as a fully fledged psychic medium. He almost got me killed in the process but, that’s a story for another day.