London, England was cold in the winters and was very cold and dreary. Many of the buildings I was taken into were made out of grey stone, and everything took on a greyish cast. Maybe that was due to the ominous experiences I had while in England. There were a lot of ornate black wrought iron fences around estates; even the parkways and parks often had fences surrounding them. I accompanied Reagan to London many times. I overheard that these were important assignments in facilitating diplomatic relations.
This time Ronald Reagan had on a black overcoat and we were walking across the street to visit an older lady with dark grey hair. She wore a hat and very sturdy shoes and a suit. I think she was the Queen of England, or at least someone of importance. It was not Margaret Thatcher, though. She explained that she could walk around in her country without Secret Service agents but chose wisely the time she went on "outings," she called them. She had a medium size dog that she took when she went on walks. She was very opinionated and very dominating. For some personal reason she didn't like Nancy at all and said that Ron and I made such a handsome twosome that it was a shame that Ron and I weren't a couple. She told him that Nancy made him look older than his years, and that a baby born of Reagan and I would make her happy. She said she felt there was some special chemistry and she wanted it badly. She was convinced that I was Sharon Weatherby and that I had excellent lineage. All this bloodline stuff really meant a lot to her and for whatever reason, I was the target. Maybe the Council influenced her and told her I was someone I wasn't. I don't know.
We gathered to talk in a sitting room with all white wicker furniture. There was a bird in a large ornate metal cage and there were lots of beautiful plants around. I remember how she and everyone around her spoke in English accents. They talked about the PLO and other news of the day, but I couldn't retrieve all the words in order to more completely remember their conversations. She had seen my capabilities; the mind files, the profound statements delivered in public (pre-programmed though they were by the Council), the wit (pre-programmed by the Council) and she felt I had some extraordinary genetic structure and she wanted some of it. She viewed this breeding thing like people think about horse and dog breeding. She was really into it and she had her mind set on having an offspring of mine coupled with Reagan, whom she thought was the perfect father.
There were many meetings where this subject was discussed and eventually she got her wish. The child I bore for her was the result of many meetings of negotiations over the years. The talks started out slowly as she and Reagan took small safe steps toward defining their otherwise preposterous scheme.
The child that was born for the Queen was to be brought up in a strict environment and groomed for later marriage into the royal family. It was a baby that was delivered into the arms of some of her people.
They said this baby was a gift of diplomacy between our countries. Reagan called the baby a peace offering to show the United Kingdom our willingness to extend a hand toward future relations with their country.
When the doctors were ready to deliver my not yet full-term baby, I was taken aboard an airplane. They laid me on a cot-like gurney made of white canvas on a metal frame. There was an IV bottle hanging over my head and I was afraid it was going to swing off its stand as the plane was entering turbulent weather. I couldn't say anything, because I had a mask over my face.
My baby was born in the air, delivered by doctors dressed in surgical gowns and masks. They had utensils and long-shaped stainless steel bowls with alcohol or some type of sterile solution for their utensils. There were no nurses. Just two doctors. The baby was also to be part of some experiment. As I flashbacked, abreacted, and retrieved this memory I felt the uterine contractions and pain, my tailbone hurt and stung because they gave me a spinal injection. I didn't have the baby naturally; I heard the doctors say the word "epidural," but at the time didn't know what that word meant.
After the baby was born and the plane landed, one doctor wrapped him all up in a thin white blanket and soon headed out the door of the plane with him. I screamed with everything I was: "NO! NO! NO!" But I don't know if I was able to scream the words out loud or if I was just screaming inside. Tears were streaming from my face. I looked out the airplane window and saw a dark-haired man and a woman with medium-length blonde hair standing together on the tarmac. The doctor who took my tiny newborn son from me handed him first to the dark-haired man who, in turn, handed him into the arms of the woman. The doctor then pointed for them to go on and I thought I would die when this couple took my baby and walked away.
When the doctor reboarded the airplane he and the other man said I made a wise choice and made a great contribution to society. I didn't know what they meant. I hadn't made any choice. As they spoke of matters of national security, I was becoming increasingly more hysterical. The doctor injected a drug into the IV bottle that instantly put me asleep. The next thing I knew I was dressed in a grey sweat suit and groggily walked out of the airplane to my mom who was dressed in a red sweat shirt, white blouse and red pants. She took my face in her hands and said, "How's my sweetie?" and she helped me to the car.
I overheard the doctor say the baby was of good size despite the fact that he had been taken so early. All I could see was the top of his beautiful little head because he was wrapped so tightly in the blanket, but my love for him was and still is intense and powerful. He was part of me, but they took him away. I never saw my baby again. I was grateful when they drugged me out of my misery because the feelings and experience were overwhelming and I couldn't take anymore. My body started shaking uncontrollably and I was freezing but they said it was okay — normal in fact. It sure didn't feel normal. I was in a daze for a few days, quiet, withdrawn and very, very depressed. My soul ached. It still does today.
The grief is totally encompassing. When I think of him I still cry uncontrollably. How could they steal my baby? How could they?
"Jesus wept."
"Thus says the Lord: Refrain your voice from weeping, and your eyes from tears; for your work shall be rewarded, says the Lord and (your children) shall return from the enemy's land. And there is hope in your future, says the Lord; your children shall come again to their own country."