328. Stitch

Nicole shares about finding comfort in a childhood toy.

Transcripts may not appear in their final version and are subject to change.

Nicole: Hi Feelings and Co. I can’t remember if you guys said that voice memos are good or bad, but we’ll give this a whirl because I think I got cut off from your voicemail.  Hi, I’m Nicole Gass from Libertyville, Illinois and it’s going to be okay.  Soon after I told my mom I was pregnant with her first grandchild back in 2014, changes began creeping into my childhood home.

A long, underused bedroom suddenly had a changing pad. Diapers appeared in neat baskets. Tiny lace outfits that had been in storage since the mid 80s were now nestled in drawers. A pack and play arrived, graced with a mattress, because no grandchild of Nancy’s would be uncomfortable at grandma’s house,  and perched atop a high floating shelf, a parade of  stuffed animals from my siblings in my childhood appeared.

Including my beloved Stitch.  Growing up, Stitch was my best pal. He’s a floppy overwashed teddy bear of a brownish tan color that seems to have been produced exclusively in the late 1970s. His fur is nubby in that way that only comes from putting something in a dryer that has no business in it. being there.

And his body is so soft and careworn that it now gently hugs the hugger.  Soon after my mom’s grandmotherly nesting was complete, my son was born, and I was swept into the parenting vortex. Stitch stayed high on the shelf, and every once in a while I’d sneak into the baby room and give him a hug.

Everything in my life felt different, but Stitch? Stitch felt the same. Familiar. Safe. Comforting. Soft. Mine.  A few years passed, and a few more kids arrived. One day, I was back at my mom’s house, and my youngest child, a precariously toddling 15 month old, motored down the hallway to the bedroom and solemnly, insistently pointed  to my stitch.

I got him down somewhat reluctantly, and she carried him everywhere for the evening, then the week, then the month, and now really, kind of for the last three years. We see many things about the world differently, my daughter and I, but about Stitch, we feel the same. He’s her familiar, safe, comforting, and soft best pal. 

Last year, my mom was killed in a sudden and traumatic way. Three months after that, my husband was diagnosed with a curable but grueling advanced cancer. And shortly thereafter, my dad has now started seriously dating again. My favorite people are suddenly absent from my life.  I was and still am terrified and my childhood home is once again having visible and surprising changes.

Everything feels different and at times I have felt so alone.  But every day in the middle of all this my now four year old brings Stitch with her and they climb into my lap. I rub her curly head and his nubby fur. I feel his loose limbs fold into mine and hers too and they remind me of my childhood. 

Stitch reminds me of my connection to my mom. And the way she has taught me to cherish my own children.  And my daughter, and my other daughter, and my son, and my teddy bear keep the world feeling familiar, safe, comforting, and somewhat soft. In the middle of all of this change, the love I have for my mom, and my kids, and my teddy bear,  those are all still exactly the same.

And that’s how I know it’s going to be okay.