Real Near Death Experiences

Amanda Cable -NDE During Childbirth-

I was several feet away when the figure slowly turned - it was Ruby.

Not as I had ever seen her before, but dressed in her new school uniform, with her hair in neat bunches.

She smiled her wonderful, familiar smile and reached out her hand.

'Come on Mummy, we'll be late for school.' Without speaking, I took her hand and she led me along the corridor. I was calm, relaxed and unhurried.

Ruby, however, was determined.

'Come on, Mummy, keep going.' We walked forward and suddenly, out of nowhere, the giant wrought iron school gates appeared, totally blocking our way. Now Ruby became agitated. 'Hurry Mummy, we'll be late for class. Quick!'

She opened the gates, and for a few seconds I hesitated, wondering if I should continue. Ruby stepped through the gates and waited for me. 'Mummy, come to me.' With that command I stepped through, and Ruby flashed me a triumphant smile. Then she swung the iron gates violently with all her strength, and as they banged shut, I felt my whole body jump. This was the point, I am convinced, that my pulse started beating again. I left the white tunnel as quickly as I had been sucked in.

I knew nothing more until I woke a couple of hours later - still in theatre.

The walls were white, and I thought I had died. Then I felt burning pain from my stomach where a large incision had been made to stem the haemorrhaging, and a doctor wearing a mask leaned over me.

'You are seriously ill. Don't move. You are having a blood transfusion through both sides of your neck. Can we call your next-of-kin?'

I instantly remembered Ruby and the white tunnel - and I knew that I had somehow made a decision to live - I would be OK. 'No, tell my husband that whatever happens, my daughter has to go to school.' I cannot recall the next few hours. I know now the hospital called Ray - and he went along with my wishes.

Ruby went into school for her first day, tightly holding her father's hand, blissfully unaware of Mummy's condition.

Meanwhile, I was being wheeled back to the ward. A few hours later, my husband came to see me, bringing a special gift - a picture of Ruby taken earlier outside the school.

When I saw it I froze. Ruby had her hair in bunches and was dressed in her new uniform - exactly as I had seen her in the tunnel.

I had never before seen my daughter's hair tied up, nor watched her try on her new uniform - by the time it had arrived, I was already ill. But here, down to the last detail, was the child who had walked me down the corridor.

What did it mean? I told Ray about the tunnel and seeing Ruby there, and he stared in shock. He said: 'She's never worn bunches before. How could you have known?' I couldn't forget what I'd seen.

Before I went home a week later, I needed five further blood transfusions, so I had plenty of time to think about it. For all my cynicism, I couldn't help but wonder whether it was a sign that there actually is life after death. It was so disturbing that I wanted to know more.

I have since put my questions to Dr Sam Parnia, a specialist registrar at Hammersmith Hospital, who has spent seven years studying near-death and out-of-body experiences. He says the scientific community has three views as to why they happen.

'First, is that it could simply be some sort of chemical change in the brain as people die. Second, it is a psychological phenomenon whereby people who think they are about to die imagine something pleasant to comfort themselves.

'Or it may indicate a separation from human mind and consciousness at the point of death. In other words, a soul which lives on after death. This is supported by people who claim to have had out-of-body experiences during circumstances where there is no blood flow to the brain and can report details they otherwise couldn't know.

'I believe all three theories are true, and we can't rule out life after death.' According to Dr Parnia, it is estimated five per cent of the population have had a near-death experience, and my story is typical.

Certainly, it has cured my fear of dying. While other children believed in heaven, I was convinced that a body lies decomposing in the ground. The older I grew, the more terrifying this thought became.

Now, after what happened, I believe it can be a peaceful experience - a crossover between life into something unknown.

But I do appreciate, probably for the first time, just how fragile our grip on life is, and that has made me wary. I walk down the road and wonder if a car will hit me. I board a train and panic in case there is a crash. I may not be afraid of dying but I don't want to go yet.

At the same time, I am more determined to live every minute to the full. I appreciate the children far more than before, and realise that joining in their games, walking in the park and jumping in puddles with them is more important than becoming stressed about issues beyond my control.

I am determined to spend my life doing the things I enjoy with those I love because I don't want any regrets when I do die.

I still don't know whether the white tunnel is a trick of the dying brain or a real sign of an afterlife.

But I do know that at exactly the moment I stared death in the face, my own daughter came to save me.

Ruby - or my intense love for her - dragged me back to life that day.

And I can't look at the photograph of her first day at school without thinking how close we came to losing each other for ever.