It was 5 a.m. My husband, Will, and I woke to a clattering sound in the apartment. Soon we heard sobbing, and we watched as our youngest came running into our bedroom. 

"Gresham!" I called to him, and he ran to my side of the bed. I scooped him up in my arms and brought him into bed with my husband and me. As I tucked him tight against my side, I asked, "Did you have a bad dream?"

But Gresham was too sleepy to answer. Instead, he snuggled close as his tears subsided, and he relaxed into me. He h...