R.I.P. Sir Robert Edward

By chance, I was in the car listening to NPR today, and I heard the newscaster report that Nobel Prize winning scientist, Sir Robert Edward – the father of IVF – died today. I was soon overcome with emotion and in tears, for a man I never knew, but who changed my life completely. I owe him so much. I am so grateful. My whole family is so grateful. How can you thank someone enough for giving your life meaning and purpose? For making all your dreams of motherhood come true? For making me the happiest, luckiest woman alive? For my beautiful, beautiful daughter?

I came home and Googled this wonderful man. I learned that by the time he was awarded the Nobel Prize in 2010, he was too far gone with dementia to appreciate the honor. The same goes for him being knighted by Queen Elizabeth the following year. I read about Louise Brown, the first “test tube” baby and how Robert had become a part of her family.

He started research on IVF in the Fifties and was driven by the belief that people had the right to receive help in having a family.

He once said: I have seen how infertility is a cause of great and lasting human sadness. It demands treatment. The most important thing in life is having a child.

What an incredible man… and what a huge debt our family and countless other families owe him. In one of the articles, I read that – among many tributes written to him – the most profound was from a young man whose note simply read, “Thank you for my life.”

Who the heck is Betsy?!

Last night something strange happened. My husband woke up three separate times during the night (and woke me up twice in the process) by yelling. This has never happened before. The one time I was awake and breastfeeding in the nursery next door, he shouted “Yes!” as if I’d called his name. I told him I hadn’t called him and he said, “Oh, sorry. I thought I heard you call my name.” I thought he must have been dreaming… although it still struck me as odd.

I don’t remember what the next thing he yelled was (as I was asleep) but I do remember the last thing. Out of what seemed like a dead sleep, he yelled, “You stay away from her!” and jumped towards our baby, as if to protect her. It was startling to say the least and he apologized for waking me up. But he also took the unusual move of grabbing pillows and blankets and sleeping on the floor next to our daughter in her rocker (which was already near our bed). Had I had more sleep, I may have paid more attention to this… but being severely sleep deprived, I drifted quickly back to my dreams.

When morning came and we were both up for the Samantha’s next feeding, [Did I mention that we named our daughter Samantha? ;-)] I asked him what had happened and why he had bolted awake so many times. (Let me also preface this by saying my husband claims not to believe in anything supernatural or occult.) He said, “Didn’t you hear the voices?” I assumed he was talking about loud neighbors of some kind. “No. What voices?” I asked.

“They were talking about her,” he said. “About who?” I asked. “About Samantha,” he said. “Who was talking about Samantha?” I asked… starting to get goosebumps. He went on to explain that he heard voices talking about our daughter all night long. He was in an alpha state, between sleep and wakefulness, and could hear two distinct voices although he couldn’t make out everything they were saying. He did identify them as being clearly black voices. When pressed, he admitted the speech wasn’t exactly from present day, but from the last century. He heard them laughing and referring to our daughter as “Betsy.” He heard one of them making fun of her and saying, “Sam, Sammy… they should have named her Betsy!” And then he heard one of them say, “I’m just fucking with Betsy!” and that’s when he yelled, “You stay away from her!” and went to sleep next to Samantha.

I don’t know the tone of the voices, but he clearly perceived a threat, otherwise, he wouldn’t have reacted the way he did. He seemed rattled by the events and tried to shake them off by saying he was probably dreaming. I told him if he really believed it was a dream, he wouldn’t have gotten pillows & blankets and slept near Samantha to protect her. He never wants to admit what he knows. Something – some entities – were clearly in our space and aware of our daughter, if not toying with her somehow. I know it sounds creepy, but I believe that what he heard was real. I don’t know what it was or who the voices/spirits were.

My best guess is that they were relatives or loved ones from a past life. Regardless, I don’t like the idea of anything approaching my daughter without clearing it with us first. I have no way of knowing what their intentions were/are. I do know that they seemed to go away when my husband told them to… it was also near daybreak, so that could have had an effect as well.

It’s crazy to think that there’s possibly something we can’t protect her from. Our entire lives revolve around meeting our daughter’s needs and protecting her. I contacted a few of my spooky friends to see if they could help me figure out who these spirits were and how to deal with them. In the meantime, I had a word with them – or at least, I addressed them and explained that Samantha is our daughter and they need permission from us to communicate with her. I also prayed, mainly to Archangel Michael, for his protection. (I may not be religious, but I have had direct experience with angels saving my life, so I really do believe in their power.)

Samantha seems unfazed by the whole thing. I’m a little unnerved and I know my husband is, too, although he’ll just act like it never happened. I want Samantha to remember who she was before this life… and I don’t mind if her relatives want to keep in touch… I just have to know for sure that that’s what this is – otherwise, I will have to make sure it never happens again.