HOLD ME! Cici Won’t Let Go Because of Flood Trauma 😭 – Baby Monkey Cici
The rain had stopped, but the fear had not. Baby Monkey Cici clung tightly to her caregiver’s chest, her tiny fingers gripping the fabric as if letting go would make the world fall apart again. Ever since the flood, Cici had changed. Once curious and playful, she now startled at every drip of water and every distant rumble of thunder. The memory of rushing water still lived inside her little heart.
That morning, when the caretaker gently tried to set her down, Cici whimpered and wrapped her arms tighter. “Hold me,” her eyes seemed to beg. She pressed her face into a warm shoulder, seeking safety. The flood had separated her from comfort once before, and she was determined it would not happen again.
Bath time used to be a joyful moment. Cici would splash, giggle, and play with bubbles. Now, even the sound of water pouring into a basin made her tremble. Her body stiffened, and tears welled up instantly. The caregiver understood—this wasn’t stubbornness; it was fear. Real, deep fear from a tiny soul who had experienced something too big too soon.
Instead of forcing her, the caregiver sat quietly, rocking back and forth. Soft words filled the air, slow and gentle. Cici’s breathing gradually calmed, but her grip never loosened. Every time the caregiver shifted, she tightened again, afraid of being put down. Being held was her shield against the memory of being swept away.
As the day passed, Cici refused to explore on her own. She didn’t chase leaves or peek around corners. She just wanted arms—warm, steady, familiar. When a sudden splash from a nearby bucket echoed, Cici cried out and buried her face, shaking. The caregiver hugged her closer, letting her know she was safe, that the water was gone, that nothing bad would happen now.
Healing takes time, especially for a baby. Cici’s flood trauma couldn’t disappear in a single day. But every hug, every moment of patience, slowly stitched her heart back together. Each gentle hold whispered a promise: you are protected, you are loved, you are not alone.
As evening came, Cici finally relaxed enough to rest her head on the caregiver’s chest. Her fingers still held on, but not as tightly. It was a small victory. In those quiet cuddles, Cici learned something important—that even after fear, safety can return, one loving embrace at a time.