When my husband and I first got married we lived in a little two room apartment. He used to work nights and I had never thought much of it until about three months later when I was home by myself.

It was about 8:00, not late and I was just sitting down to watch T.V. I was pregnant at the time so I grabbed some snacks and as I was leaving my kitchen the pantry door came flying open and then slammed shut. Naturally I was scared to death so I called my husband and told him what had happened. He said that I was letting my emotions get the best of me and I thought he was probably right.
The next night he had off and while we were in bed we felt something climb in between us. After that I went to stay with my mom. It had been about three months and our house that was being built was finished. We had no other encounters at that time.
When my daughter was about 11 months old she started walking. It always looked like she was holding someone's hand and had incredible balance at home, not so good when we were not (like any baby learning to walk). Samantha would also sit in her room and just babble and play like she needed no entertainment from anyone. She was happy so we thought whoever is visiting her must be ok
As she got older she always talked to someone named Sara. Things happened all the time at the house. Doors unlocked, things moved, footsteps, etc. Samantha always said "its just Sara".
One night when Samantha had just gone to bed my husband and I went to check on her and heard a whisper of a voice saying over and over "My little Samantha. My little Samantha". That night my husband and I did not talk much about it. I think hearing a voice scared him as much as me although he would never admit it.
The next morning I asked Samantha, who was 6 at the time, to tell me a little more about Sara, as we naturally had talked about her in the past. What Samantha told still to this day makes me a little teary.
She said Sara used to visit you when I was still in your tummy. Her baby Samantha went to heaven when your daddy was just a baby. None of this made much sense to me since my dad died when I was very young and I had never met his parents.
I asked my mom who told me that my dad had an older sister who had died in an accident with her baby when he was only 2. I did a little more research and came to find out that his sisters name was Sara and her baby's name was Samantha.
My Samantha is eight now and doesn't talk to Sara much any more, but if I have the monitor in her baby sisters room up really loud sometimes we will hear "My little Samantha". These events scared my mom, but my husband and I have found peace in them.
The hardest thing for me to learn was the name of Sara's baby, but its nice to know that there are people watching out for us.
We have many more stories and have a wonderfully sensitive little girl.