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When Sam was 4 months old, Mrs A asked me if I believed in ghosts. I asked her what she meant, and she told me of seeing a ghost upon awakening one morning before her son was born. The ghost stood like a priest, in a hooded robe, bent over the very place where she was planning to put the baby's crib. She added that her husband felt the ghost bump the bed. I was reminded of Selma Fraiberg's article, ‘Ghosts in the Nursery’ (1975), and over the ensuing months came to understand some of the ways in which the unsatisfied hungers and conflicts of this mother's childhood were persistent ghosts in the household.
Due to the brevity of the presentation1 I am forsaking the balance of positive interactions between mother and child, which were plentiful, and focusing on the areas of conflict. I will mention now that in the midst of the often tumultuous ups and downs of this mother's interactions and feelings about her child, he progressed evenly, achieving developmental milestones at appropriate ages, separating initially without strain for brief periods, being full of vigour, interested in his surroundings and enjoying and seeking out interaction with others. His love affair with the world was in full bloom at 15 months, before the occasion of a ten-day separation from his parents at 20 months which accentuated his separation anxiety as he moved into rapprochement.
Sam, a rosy-cheeked well-formed baby, weighing 7lb 7oz at birth, was 2 weeks old when I first met him and his mother. As we sat at the kitchen table he nursed peacefully while Mrs A, looking proud, held her son warmly. Although she could be an attractive woman, Mrs A's strained face and slightly hunched posture made her look older than her 40 years. She is a thoughtful woman, but is quick to doubt herself and has a fear of being poorly judged.
Mrs A met me in robe and nightgown, as she was to do for the next three months, ushering me into a tiny, ageing two-bed flat surrounded by office complexes and shared with a boar