The thing is, I understood all too well. You see, it had only been two months since I’d experienced a miscarriage. I knew how difficult it was to face an unexpected change; to lose something dear. And while obviously saying “goodbye” to a pacifier isn’t the same as the death of child, I sympathized with Savannah. I saw my pain in hers.
As she sat on the couch, screaming, “Night Night!” at me, tears flowing from her eyes, I remained there beside her. I offered comfort, but didn’t fix her pain by returning the longed for possession. Instead, I allowed her to grieve, helping her through the process with my presence and empathy. And, because of the relationship we’ve built, she felt the freedom to run to my arms and cry and scream within my embrace.
[Read the rest of the article at Ungrind.]