The Daughter Snatcher

My husband and I were so excited when the contractions started, or maybe I should say that I was excited after the pain had passed. I've felt worse pain, so this didn't really bother me. We got to the hospital but my doctor was nowhere to be found. Instead, Dr. Carriage informed me that he was filling in for my doctor who was called away for a family emergency. I was a little apprehensive but I was offered no other choice.

Later that night, I gave birth to a little girl. She was tiny and red with a head full of brown hair. The doctor took her from me and my husband after we held her because he said she was having some problems. We grew concerned and my husband asked, "what kind of problems."

The doctor wasn't very forthcoming. Eventually, he told us that she was having breathing problems, her tongue was purple. We found that odd since she seemed to be fine while we were holding her. I asked him if I could try to feed her and the doctor said that he would need to put in a feeding tube. Something in my brain went off - a small alert. This isn't right, I remembered thinking, something's off.

And, how right I was.

I asked about feeding her again and he repeated what he said before about the feeding tube. I then asked him to go ahead and place it because I didn't want her to starve to death. He told me that he couldn't place the tube because she was dying. I didn't believe him at that point. She was healthy when my husband and I took turns holding her. I told him that he was a liar and that I wanted to see my baby. He cut my IV and told me nastily that I would see how pain feels because he wasn't going to give me any more medication.

At that point, pain medicine be damned, I was determined to see my daughter. Nothing was going to stop me, so I rose from my bed, an hour after giving birth, and walked up to this guy and looked him the eyes. My husband called in security and told them he was calling the police on this doctor, because he wouldn't help our child and because he was threatening me. The security guard made me get back in bed and detained the doctor for further questioning and another doctor was assigned to us.

The police came and arrested Dr. Carriage. That wasn't his real name. The new doctor came in and she explained everything to us and gave me my pain medicine back, although I wasn't concerned about my pain at the moment. All I wanted was my daughter. My husband went and got her and gave her to me. She was fine. No feeding tube was needed.

Apparently, Dr. Carriage had moved around the US picking women with long, complicated medical histories to target. He would tell them their child was dying or dead and that they couldn't see their child, then, take the child home for his wife to raise. They had done this successfully six times. His wife couldn't have children. My daughter was going to be the latest in a long line of kidnappings. This doctor showed no remorse. He told the police that he would do it again because he'd do anything for his wife. I asked about the children and the police officer said that someone was in the process of finding their birth parents and returning them home.

My husband grabbed my hand. I held our daughter while he held me, and we were happy.

The Nightmare from Last Night

I had two sets of nightmares. One involved my grandfather (I dreamed about him last night, too) and the other involved one of my best friends that I grew up with but we've grown a part.

And, no, before you ask, I have not played any zombie games or watched zombie movies yesterday.

The first nightmare was about my grandfather.

We were back in his hospital room, watching him die all over again. That was rough enough. After he took his last breath and died, a team of nurses and doctors came in, moved us out of the way, and started to resuscitate him. They brought him back. I looked over at the monitor and saw a heartbeat. I was so excited! My grandfather would live! My family and I gave each other hugs and we were so happy. Then, my grandfather spoke to all of us.

"Who are you?"

He didn't remember anything about us ... who we were, what he was doing in the hospital, nothing. All of his memories were gone. My heart sank. This, to me, was worse than death. He didn't even recognize my grandmother. She tried to get him to remember, and then she started to cry. The doctor suggested putting him in a nursing home because he would need around the clock care. He couldn't even remember how to get dressed. It was so hard to watch. This wasn't the grandfather I remembered. Then, I woke up.


The second dream took place in Augusta. I was with my long time friend, the one I grew up with, and his family. I was visiting because I haven't been to Augusta in a long, long time. I got to meet his wife and say hello to the new arrival. Everything was going great until I heard a bunch of sirens go off outside. We flipped on the news to find that SRS was having some sort of melt down and everyone needed to evacuate quickly. I grabbed the wife by the hand and my friend followed us. We made it to the last helicopter but there was only room for three. I shoved my friend aboard with his family, and before they could do anything the helicopter took off. I stood there and watched, knowing I was going to die, but that they would be safe. He had kids and I didn't. He needed to be with his family. If I was lucky, I would find transport somewhere else. But before I could do anything, the helicopter blew up. I screamed. The fiery wreckage rained down around me. I sank to my knees. I was the one who made them get on that helicopter. I was the reason they died.

The Doctor and the Injections

I was in a doctor's office seeing the doctor for bronchitis related issues. The doctor walks in and then decides to give me injections. For some reason, my dad's side of the family is in my room along with my mother, sisters, and brother. I ask her politely if I can move to another room to get the injections for some privacy. She tells me no, that they are going into my hand. She said I would need six injections total and that would mean three in each hand. I scream at her that I have rights as a patient and I refuse the treatment. She laughs at me and tells me that I can't. At that moment, two men come down the hallway with a gurney with a body on it (wrapped up), that looks like it belongs to a two or a three year old. In that moment, when I'm distracted, the nurses inject the medication into my hands.