Ghosts in the Woods

In the weeks prior to my son’s birth, I would enter his nursery and gaze at the furnishings. It had taken me years to become pregnant, and spending time among the stuffed animals and fresh linens reinforced that my dream of motherhood was finally becoming real.

Two years later, as my toddler wailed and thrashed in the throes of a night terror, those Hallmark moments seemed far away. “Hudson, I’m here. Wake up!” I said, as we swayed in his rocking chair. “Hudson, it’s OK! What’s scaring you?”

I reached behind me and snapped on the light. His sheets were peeled off the mattress. Books and stuffed animals littered the floor. I stroked