One afternoon, I went to check on my son, Edduin, after putting him down for a nap. As I got closer to his room, I heard something unusual—soft giggling, like someone else was in there with him. My heart pounded, and I swung the door open, but there was no one in sight. The only person there was Edduin, staring up at me from his crib with wide eyes. The air felt cold, and the silence in the room made the hairs on my arms stand up.
I looked everywhere: inside the closet, under the bed, even behind the curtains. I hoped to find some toy that might be making sounds, but there was nothing. I tried to calm myself by blaming it on work stress. After all, my job had been busy, and maybe I just needed more sleep. Still, I could not shake the sense that something was off.
Over the next few days, the strange giggling continued. Each time, it felt like there was a playful visitor in the room. Yet, whenever I opened the door, I found Edduin alone. Sometimes he would be cooing and looking at a corner, as if he was watching someone move around. The feeling of being watched grew stronger each day, and I knew I had to do something.
To find some peace of mind, I decided to set up a WiFi baby monitor in his room. The camera could record during the day and night, sending video straight to an app on my phone. I told myself this was the easiest way to prove that it was all in my head—no ghostly visitor, just a mother’s overactive imagination.
A few days later, after I put Edduin down for his usual afternoon nap, I switched on the monitor and went downstairs to fold laundry. Around ten minutes later, I glanced at my phone and noticed a little movement on the screen. My stomach dropped. The app showed a small figure gliding near the crib. At first, I thought the camera must be glitching or picking up shadows. But as I stared longer, I couldn’t ignore that shape.
Without waiting another second, I rushed up the stairs, my heart pounding louder with each step. By the time I opened the door to the nursery, everything was still. Edduin lay quietly, blinking up at me with his soft brown eyes. The hair on the back of my neck still felt prickly. I looked around, flicked on the light, and checked every corner once again. Just like before, there was no one.
Feeling rattled, I called my sister, Lisa, to explain what was going on. She laughed it off, telling me that babies have active imaginations and sometimes cameras pick up weird lights or dust particles. “Don’t scare yourself, sis,” she said in her calm, reassuring tone. “It’s probably nothing.” I wanted to believe her, but I couldn’t forget how the shape had moved across the screen so smoothly.
That night, I stayed up late reading through the baby monitor footage. At around 3:00 in the morning, I suddenly spotted something strange. A faint glow appeared near the crib, almost like a small, flickering light. It floated for a few seconds, and I could clearly hear Edduin giggling in his sleep, as though he was playing with someone. Then the glow vanished. My heart pounded in my ears, and my mouth went dry.
The next day, I went online to read about similar experiences. Some parents mentioned dust, reflections, or orbs caused by the camera’s night vision feature. Others believed in guardian angels or friendly spirits visiting babies. My stomach turned as I read different theories. I wasn’t sure what to think anymore. On one hand, I knew there must be a logical explanation. On the other, I couldn’t deny the unsettled feeling in my gut.
That afternoon, I tried a small experiment. Before putting Edduin down for his nap, I placed a few toys in his crib and opened the window curtains wide, letting in bright sunlight. I figured if the “visitor” was just a shadow or reflection, it might not appear under bright conditions. But as soon as I turned on the camera feed, I heard that soft giggling again. I sat downstairs, watching on my phone, my body rigid with tension.
Once more, I saw a faint movement—a flicker—near his crib. It was easier to see in the daylight. The air around Edduin seemed to shimmer, almost like heat waves on a hot road. He reached out his hands, smiling as if he was touching someone’s face. My stomach flipped. I raced upstairs, but just like every other time, the second I entered the room, the shimmering stopped.
I decided to share the footage with my neighbor, Mrs. Patel, who had recently retired from a local photography studio. She had experience with cameras, lighting, and editing. She watched the clips carefully, pausing at every moment something odd appeared. She pointed out a few areas of the video where reflections from the window created bright spots. But even she admitted the floating glow near the crib looked unusual. She suggested we record a few more days to see if a pattern emerged.
Over the next week, I gathered more recordings. Each time, Edduin seemed excited by something in the room, giggling and waving. The floating lights or shapes always vanished as soon as I approached. My son didn’t seem scared; if anything, he seemed happy. That made me feel a bit calmer, as if whatever was visiting wasn’t harmful.
Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was missing a big piece of the puzzle. One evening, after putting Edduin to bed, I decided to speak out loud in his room. I said, “If someone is here, I just want you to know we are not afraid. But please, help me understand why you’re here.” It felt silly, talking to an empty space. Yet, I wanted some kind of sign, some explanation for these strange events.
Later that night, I reviewed the new footage. I saw the soft glow again. It hovered near the crib, and in the camera’s faint microphone recording, I heard a gentle whisper. It was too quiet to make out words, but it sounded warm, almost motherly. My breath caught in my chest. I played it back again and again, trying to decipher what it might be saying.
I still have no definite answers about the glowing shape or the reason for the giggles. But after weeks of seeing how calm and joyful my son seems around it, I am less afraid. I’ve decided that as long as it poses no harm, maybe we can coexist with whatever is visiting. Perhaps it’s a guardian spirit, an angel, or simply a strange reflection of light. All I know is that my child is safe and, somehow, never alone.
Now, I want to ask you: if you discovered something mysterious in your child’s room, would you keep investigating, or would you rather not know what it is?
