The devastating flood changed everything for little Cici. Before, she was a brave, curious baby monkey who loved exploring every corner of the house. But after surviving those terrifying days—cold, wet, and clinging to me for safety—something in her heart shifted. Now, every step I take, every move I make… Cici is right there, refusing to let go of my hand.
This morning, when I tried to stand up just to get some water, she instantly panicked. Her tiny hands grabbed my shirt, her little voice letting out soft cries as if begging, “Don’t leave me… not again.” The fear in her eyes said everything. She still remembers the rushing water, the loud noises, the moment she thought she might lose everything.
Even when I sit down, she crawls onto my lap, curling tightly like she’s trying to protect herself. She presses her face against my chest, listening to my heartbeat, maybe reminding herself that she’s safe now. Every time I whisper, “It’s okay, Cici… I’m here,” she calms a little—but she refuses to let go completely.
Bath time used to be fun for her, but now she won’t even step near the bathroom unless she’s holding my arm. Food time, play time, even nap time—she needs to be touching me somehow. Her separation anxiety is stronger than ever, and it breaks my heart to see how deeply the flood affected her tiny mind.
But day by day, I’m gently helping her feel safe again. Holding her close. Letting her sleep on my chest. Talking softly to her. Giving her the stability she lost during those dark days. And slowly, I see small moments of courage—like when she reaches for a toy without checking if I’m still beside her.
She may still be terrified to leave my side, but she’s healing. And as long as she needs me, I’ll be here—her comfort, her shelter, her family.
Because after everything she survived… no baby should ever feel scared alone.