I watched as they tried sticking my infant baby girl for a third time for labs that would hopefully give answers to the mysterious red lesions on her body. She was strapped down and hurting. And all I could do was hold her face and attempt to be . . . the calm in her storm.

I stood in my teenage step daughter’s bedroom, as she refused to look me in the eye. Suspension of visitation with her mom has proven to be the next step we must take. But in her chaos of emotions, despite knowing we are only doing what is best, she has been reserved and shut down. And all I can do is be there and be . . . the calm in her storm.

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I cried as I watched my toddler baby girl be taken to her classroom. I was not allowed to walk her inside due to COVID-19 restrictions . . . and so she cried. But I knew this classroom was good for her development, and I knew the thing to do was to hug her and smile and tell her she was going to do great. I knew I had to wait to cry until she was gone. Because I had to be . . . the calm in her storm.

As mamas, we hate to see our children hurt.

We want to save them from all pain, and if we could, absorb their pain for them. However, we cannot fix all situations. We cannot always give in when they are begging. We cannot control the chaos this world can throw their way.

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But we can equip them with problem-solving. We can help them sort through their emotions. We can hug them and assure them we will not leave their side. We can be one text away. We can rock them to sleep. We can even give them ice cream at the end of the day.

We cannot make it stop raining for our kids, but we can be the calm in their storms.

Previously published on the author’s blog

A.W. Cogent

I've frequently been told I have a lot on my plate—I am a combat veteran's wife; a mama of three girls, including one bonus; a healthcare worker . . . and to envelope it all, an INFJ. All in all, I am blessed beyond measure.