This is the story of the ghost we call 'Ronnie' who joined us after the birth of our youngest son. After our third son was born and we looked at our pictures from the hospital, we were perplexed by the picture that clearly shows a figure that was not there at the time looking over the shoulder of my husband at the newborn baby. At the time we decided that we must have gotten a picture of his guardian angel looking on; however, future events have brought us to believe that this is not an angel, but the ghost of a member of our family.
After returning from a trip to my mother's I found our back door ajar. Fearing a break-in, my husband and I searched our house but found nothing missing. Shortly after that we started noticing more and more odd things happening in our home. We also noticed that most of the things centered around our youngest son.
Shortly after he moved out of our bedroom and into his nursery, I would routinely hear a voice calling 'Mama' over his baby monitor, long before my son was able to talk. I got up to check each time, but always found my son asleep and his room silent. Upon returning to my room, though, I would still hear the same 'Mama' from the monitor.
Every now and then, my husband and I would catch a glimpse of a ball of light moving through the house, usually moving in or out of my son's bedroom. It was always just a fleeting view, caught out of the corner of the eye.
The most compelling evidence that something else was with us came when my youngest son was about 6 months old. He received a riding toy for Christmas that rocked when sat on and played music. Many nights my husband and I watched as that toy sang and rocked with no one on it.
Our ghost is normally most active around Christmas time when my children are getting new toys. The year my youngest son was 2 my boys got remote control cars as an early Christmas present. The family watched as those cars raced around the house with no one manning the controls.
When my middle son was three he had a pair of red shoes that were his favorite. Unfortunately they were also the favorite shoes of my youngest son, who loved the color and thought of them as his plaything. After taking them away from him numerous times I placed them on the top shelf of my middle son's closet. The next morning I found them in the crib of my youngest son.
My husband and I suffered two miscarriages after the birth of our oldest son. One of the babies we felt was a girl and had started calling her 'Ronnie', short for Veronica. We think that perhaps Ronnie is the source of all the happenings here. None of us feels threatened by her presence, and in fact we enjoy having her here as she gives us plenty to talk about.
Attached is the picture taken just moments after the birth of our third son. Had Ronnie not died in utero, she would have been around three years old at the time of his birth.
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