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My Haunted History, The Baby in the Bathroom

Christina has always had an interest in the paranormal. From a young age she has had experiences that were unexplained.


Once upon a time when I was very young...

My mother always tells me that my memory is so good I can remember things from before birth. Obviously that is not true however, I do remember a lot of things from my childhood. I remember moments, feelings, broken promises and joy. There were a lot of bad things that happened to me the year I was six, and most of it I blocked out. Sometimes things come back in flashes of memory, but mostly I just remember the feelings. At the house we lived in back then, I mostly just remember fear.

My mother used to tell this story when I was younger but, over the years she has become very quiet about it. She no longer wants to talk about it or remember that it even happened. I believe that she just wants to block the memories of that time because it was a time where our family went through hell. I am re-telling this story only from my memories of my personal experience and memories of what she told me in the past.


Happily Never After

I was two when my parents bought their first home. It was a 3 bedroom, 2 bathroom colonial outside of Cleveland, Ohio. My brother was just a baby at the time. My first memory of the house was my father carrying me up the stairs behind the real estate agent as they were touring it.

The house was big, but to a two year old, anything would seem like a mansion. What I remember the most was the yard. It was probably only a half acre at the most, but to me, it stretched for miles. There was a small circle of trees in the front yard and in the middle of them sat a huge rock. This soon became my special place. I called it my "magic rock" and I would sit on it and close my eyes and think about all the places I wanted to go. In my imagination, the magic rock would take me there.

I remember that I loved to be in the yard, but I never really liked to be inside the house. Inside, I had nightmares.

I am not sure when the crying started, it may have been right after we moved in. My mother was stressed with a two year old and a baby and my father constantly away working two jobs. What I gather from my memories and from the memories my mother shared over the years is that occasionally people would hear the sounds of a baby crying. This particular crying did not come from my younger brother.


A ghost in the bathroom.

There was a small half bath in the back of our house. It was downstairs, beyond the kitchen and through the laundry room. I barely remember it because I was terrified to go through the laundry room. Once I had been playing on a pile of clothes my mother had on the floor ready to wash. I fell asleep and ha a terrible nightmare that the doll I was playing with came to life and tried to kill me. After that, I got rid of the doll and tried to stay away from that part of the house. I continued to have nightmares about the doll though, for many years after that.

Nobody really liked to go near that bathroom because that was where the cries of the baby that was not my brother, always came from. My mother must have thought she was going insane. She brought friends and family members over to witness the cries. Everybody heard it eventually. They thought perhaps a cat got into the walls of the house and was making the noise but, there was no cat. There was no way to explain the cries.


A Family Terrorized

This went on for over two years. As my brother grew older and his crying became less frequent, we all still heard the crying from the bathroom. I avoided the house as much as possible, spending time playing outside, by myself, with my older neighbor girls, or sitting on my magic rock, wishing myself away from that place.

My parents marriage became strained as time went by. My dad was spending more time at work and my mother was suspicious of his loyalty to her. As the turmoil built up, my nightmares became worse. I had a reoccurring dream about two men who didn't really look human but more like human shaped grey masses. They both wore matching suits and one carried a briefcase. In my dreams they were always walking up the stairs. I didn't know who they were but I knew they were coming for me. I felt it.

I could hear their footsteps at night as I layed in bed half asleep. Looking back, I think I may have just heard the faint noise of my own heartbeat in the quiet of the night. I would wake up in terror and silently cry myself back to sleep most nights. Other times I would scream and my mother or father would rush into my room and try to comfort me.

I remember one night my father was fed up with me waking him up at night. He tried to bring me to the top of the stairs to show me there was nothing there. I was so frightened I kicked and screamed the whole way because I did not want to see what was there. I even dug my fingernails into the wall to try hold myself back from being brought closer to my monsters.

Eventually my parents gave in. They began to let me sleep in their bed with them at night when I woke up screaming. That didn't last long however, because I found a new terror in their room.

I would wake up between the two of them in the middle of the night and open my eyes to see a tall figure at the end of their bed watching over me. It was a white/grey almost smokey color and semi-transparent. It was shaped like a human but much taller and thinner than any human I had ever seen. It's faceless head would be positioned as if it were looking down upon me.

Not wanting to upset my parents anymore, I would just close my eyes tight and keep them closed until I fell back asleep. The last time I slept with them, I had woke up and saw the figure. As I began to shake with fear, the figure held out one of it's long thin arms and pointed straight at me. I closed my eyes and screamed. My parents were furious and made me go back to my own room. I didn't mind though, the last thing I wanted was to be back in that bed again.


A new beginning, or new nightmare?

When I was four and a half years old, my baby sister was born. The day my parents brought her home from the hospital was the last day we ever heard the crying from that bathroom. Nobody is sure why it suddenly stopped, but my baby sister seemed to be the key.

She didn't stop my nightmares though and it wasn't long before my brother began to have nightmares as well.

Because of the baby, my mother moved my brother into my room so my sister could have the nursery. My brother and I had two twin beds with a tall dresser in between them. There was a lamp on top of the dresser. I remember waking up one night to the sounds of my brother crying. I looked at him and he was looking at me and pointing the the lamp on top of the dresser. I looked up and saw the lampshade had been replaced with a severed head that looked a lot like my mother's head. I shut my eyes and screamed until my parents came in. When I opened my eyes again, there was nothing there.

My brother and I continued to share the same nightmares/visions after that.


Moving Out

By the time I was six, my dad was being transferred to Pittsburgh. My family was planning to move and trying to sell the house. My parents, were still having a tough time. My mother was convinced that my dad was not being faithful. He wasn't, but I didn't understand any of that at the time.

All I knew was that I often found my mother hiding in a corner of the house crying. Now my brother and sister and I were all having nightmares.

Finally, our house sold and my parents found a new home in Pittsburgh. I think my mother had hopes that our family could heal in a new location. But it was as if a force was punishing us for trying to leave.

On a very cold snowy night in December, the night before my mothers birthday, she woke us up and put my brother, sister and I in the car. My dad had not come home yet and she was sure he was having an affair. She thought she knew who he was cheating on her with so she, out of her mind with despair, decided to go to this woman's house and prove the affair was real.

She put us all in the car, in the middle of the night and began driving, ina blizzard. We never made it, and I never went back to that house.

A couple miles up the road, my mother lost control of her vehicle at an intersection. Another car hit us, smashing right into the door that I was sitting next to. My legs were crushed and my femur bones were broken in half as the dash came down on them. The steering wheel smashed into my mother's abdomen, breaking several of her ribs and a windshield of broken glass flew at her face.

My brother and sister were luckily not hurt as badly. My brother suffered a concussion and my sister a broken arm. They were able to go home after a few days. I however, was kept in the hospital for months.

My family ended up moving to Pittsburgh and eventually once I was stable enough, I was transferred to a hospital there. By the time I was able to come home, to our new home, my father had moved out and my parents were in the process of a divorce.

I no longer had the nightmares about our old haunted house in Ohio. I am not sure of that is because we no longer lived there or I now had a whole new set of terror to dream about. One thing is for sure, I never forgot that house or the nightmares I had there.


Finally, a reason.

Within a year my mother, having no family in Pittsburgh, decided to move back to Ohio. It was a struggle, with just her and three small children, but we were much happier than before.

When I was about 8 years old, I remember coming home from school and overhearing my mother talking to her sister on the phone. She was talking about our old house and recalling the crying from the bathroom. She told her sister that she ran into the real estate agent who had sold them the house, at the store today. They had caught up and the agent was sad to hear that we no longer lived in the house she has sold my parents. She asked my mother if there were any issues with it and my mother told her there was one thing.

Mother said that as she explained to the agent about sounds of the baby crying in the bathroom, the woman's face turned white. She then admitted to my mother that the previous owner, before my family, had a newborn baby in that house. The baby became very sick and passed away in the downstairs bathroom.



Because I was so young and my family was going through so much turmoil, I am not sure how much of this was real and how much was in my mind. I can say that I have never had nightmares in my life as terrifying and vivid as the ones I had back then. I can also say that as far as what my mother told me, she has never been one to believe in the unknown and does not make up false stories. My mother is extremely skeptical. I think that when I was young, she told the story to others looking for someone to give her a realistic explanation. When she found out about the baby who had actually died in that house, she never wanted to speak of it again.

Personally, I do not believe it was just the baby that was causing everything that happened in the house. I often wonder if there were much darker forces at work causing my family to fall apart. Perhaps those same forces are responsible for what happened to the baby who died in the bathroom.

I hope you enjoyed reading this story which is to my knowledge, a true recollection of my experience as a child.

© 2019 Cristina Cakes

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