In the fall of 2008, we found ourselves in need of a bigger home because our family was growing. As luck would have it, a house owned by my mother-in-law had just become available. It was going to be a little while before it was ready though because the previous tenants moved out with little or no notice, leaving most of their furniture behind. I thought this was odd, but I figured they didn't want these things anymore and didn't want the hassle of moving all of it.
I asked my mother-in-law why she thought they left so much, but she said she didn't know. My husband piped up and said, "It's probably because it's haunted." She kind of rolled her eyes. She doesn't believe in that sort of thing, but she admitted that past renters have told her things that would suggest otherwise. She added that she had spent a lot of time there getting it ready for us to move in and never saw or heard anything out of the ordinary. I was satisfied with her answer. Besides, it was big and gave us more than enough room to live comfortably. We moved in and I began preparing a nursery for my baby girl that was due to arrive in early 2009.
I had all but forgotten the conversation with my mother-in-law by the time my daughter was born three months later. I hadn't noticed anything strange or unusual up to that point, but that changed once we brought her home. I constantly felt like I was being watched, but I chalked it up to sleep deprivation since I was up all hours of the night attending to my newborn. It was such an odd, uneasy feeling though.
One morning, I was cleaning the house and I had my baby strapped in her bouncy seat. There were toys attached to a bar that was above her and one of the toys played music when you pulled it. I kept hearing the music from that toy playing! Being that she was only a few weeks old, she barely even noticed the toys, much less possess the coordination to actually pull it. I assumed it was the movement of chair causing it to play. When I went to the kitchen to sweep, I put her on the table (still strapped in her seat). I contemplated this decision because it isn't the safest thing to do, but she was nowhere near the edge and I figured she wouldn't be able to move enough to cause it to shift. I didn't want her on the floor that I was about to sweep, so I felt that this was the best option.
I began to sweep while trying to keep an eye on her. I had my back turned momentarily, and when I turned back around I glanced over, but she was gone! I dropped the broom and rushed to look for her. She was just around the corner from the kitchen, still in her seat, on the floor, sound asleep. I took her out and just held her, as I began to choke up and try to rationalize what had just happened.
It seemed that our dog may have also taken notice that something wasn't right. He stayed outside most of the time, but when he came in he would run all over the house inspecting everything. One day, he ran to the back part of the house and immediately returned whimpering. We didn't have much use for that part of the house and were rarely back there. When I tried to investigate what caused our huge, fearless dog to become a big baby, he kept blocking my way. I felt like that was his way of telling me not to go, and that was good enough for me! He never went back there again, instead whenever he was inside he would cautiously peer back there and whimper.
I began to notice that when my baby and I were there alone, I would hear someone snoring. It wasn't a subtle snore. It was a booming, manly snore, only slightly muffled. It seemed to be coming from the same area that had previously scared our dog. I tried to find the source, but I never could. This happened countless times, but only when I was alone.
I thought I was losing my mind until one day, a friend stopped by. We were sitting on the couch talking and catching up. I was complaining about how much I could use a nap, but I could tell that something was distracting her. She asked me who else was home. I told her we were the only ones there, she said, "Uhm, then who is snoring?" My only reply was, "Oh thank goodness, I'm not crazy!" I guess I had gotten so used to hearing it, that I didn't realize that my slumbering guest was at it again. She wasn't convinced that we were alone, so she had to check for herself. When she returned, she said, "Does it make you mad that you have a ghost who gets to take a nap?" We had a good laugh about it and I felt somewhat relieved that someone other than myself heard it.
One night I had just gotten my restless baby to go to sleep. I laid her down and went to the living room. A few minutes later, I heard my husband talking to her on the baby monitor that I had close by. I can't remember what he said but it had a sweet and loving tone. I was unaffected by this tender moment, however (have you ever woken a sleep deprived woman's baby up? Not a good idea). I was so mad because it took so much to get her to go to sleep. I stormed in there and not only was he not in there, but he was in the next room in a deep sleep. I stood there puzzled. I knew I heard his voice. I went over to get her, but she was sleeping so soundly that I let her sleep. I remember consciously thinking that if it were something with bad intentions, I would sense it. It just left me feeling confused.
Another night, I had just laid down to go to sleep when I felt something press down on my pillow. It was like an effort to get a better look at my face, maybe to see whether or not my eyes were open. Of course, I opened my eyes and nobody was there. I jumped up and looked down the long hallway and it was empty.
At this point, my daughter was about 6 months old and once again, restless. I laid her down in her crib, and walked away. I returned about 5 minutes later to find the bumper pad that I had tied securing it to the crib had been removed from one end (the other 3 sides were left intact) and placed about a foot into the crib and re-tied in perfect bows. She was looking at it and smiling. I placed her bottle on the railing of the crib and stood there trying to figure out how this could be possible. When I couldn't come up with anything logical, I quickly scooped her up. The instant I picked her up, the bottle was knocked off into the center of the crib. It wasn't forceful, just enough for me to know it didn't just fall off.
I walked into the living room and told my husband, "Well, either our baby is a genius (for the perfect bows). Or this house is indeed haunted." She never slept in there again, and as for me, well I never achieved a good night's rest.