As a child I had a black and white panda teddy. This teddy was my lifeline. Not so much to cuddle or talk to. I had a little habit of rubbing pieces of fabric between my thumb and middle finger. And panda happened to have the perfect tag for it.
I would rub and rub the little tag with washing instructions until it came apart. At this stage, wanting to prevent the end of the world, or something very much like it, my mother would turn to her bag of fabric off-cuts. She would sort through the bag until she found a couple of possible replacements and then she would present them to me for testing. Once I had approved of the replacement swatch, it was carefully sewed onto panda where the tag once was. This little ritual was repeated many times. It must have looked like madness from the outside, but on the inside, it provided perfect calm. It provided comfort.
Babies often have a little doudou to help them fall asleep. Or their parents might rely on a dummy to pacify. Right now, Lily still finds comfort at my breast. And I'm hoping, as she goes for her one-month injections today, that the doctor won't be offended by a little show of comfort.
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