#the crib

[princesssokphanny]

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this where I post from, high speed

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DONDA(8/26)

📍Chicago, IL

[gabriellecydney]

[maximumjinx]

The Crib

This is a bona fide true story, my parents talk about it alot, and it’s always freaked me out.

My parents are from South America and both grew up very spiritual with a few real encounters with spirits that I could transcribe at a later time, but this story involves me. When my mother was pregnant she wasn’t prepared to have me. Her friends and family gifted gently used items to her to help out, since she couldn’t afford anything brand new. One thing she loved though, was this crib her friend’s sister gave her. It was practically new, beautiful and untouched and my mother always wondered why it was gifted, since the woman who gave it to her still hand a young baby. Nevertheless, never look a gift horse in the mouth.

I was born, tiny with a full head of hair and light tan skin. I slept in my mothers arms the first few months, since it was easier to feed me that way and she hadn’t had a chance to put me in the crib. All that time. I wouldn’t even nap in it. Of course this got to my mom, why waste such a perfect gift? When I was 5 months old or so, she tried. I refused to go down, screaming and crying like any baby would. My mom was afraid she had spoiled me and now I couldn’t sleep unless I was in her bed. At the same time, my dad was working early shifts at a bakery/coffee shop. He woke up 3:30-4 am to drive down and get the shop open. They had just put the crib in their room, trying to get me to sleep with them while avoiding staying in their bed. My father tells me he remembers waking up as usual, glancing over to the crib to check on me. He saw a figure in the dark, the outline of a baby, at least ten months, bald and standing in the crib. It was staring right at my father. Of course half awake he questioned, did my daughter learn to stand so quick? Has she always been that big? Then he realized I was right beside him, sleeping soundly on my mother’s chest. He panicked, looked again and the baby in the crib was gone. Perhaps he was just too tired. He shook off the encounter and got ready for his day.

Almost two weeks later my mother was getting more frustrated as I refused to sleep in the crib. She finally got me to cry myself out, sleeping uncomfortably. In the middle of the night she must have scared herself, she tells me, because after becoming accustomed to having me on her chest all night it was a shock to not feel my presence. My mother awoke that night before my dad, checking for me in the bed and realizing I was in my crib. She looked across the room, and smiled seeing me there asleep pushed to a corner. Then her heart stopped when she saw I wasn’t alone. Standing, hands gripping the bar was the same baby, in the opposite corner. Pale skin, bald, staring straight at my mother. She quickly shook my father awake, and they both got up to take me out of the crib. The next day she asks the gifter if she had experienced anything strange with the crib.

“I never felt settled around it,” she told my mother, “i would sometimes wake up in the night and think I saw a different baby there that wasn’t my son.”

Turns out this one crib had been passed along and regifted more times than one could count, all hastily given away again as realization dawned. My mother quickly bought another crib, disregarding her finances. Although she did make a bit of money on Craiglist a few days before:

Gently Used Crib! Practically New!

[keons]

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[rerockkd]

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