The Sound That Haunts Me
We were walking to the Benedum Center in Pittsburgh, my sister and I, when we heard it.
“I need a hug. I need a hug. I need a hug.”
A child’s voice. Desperate. Pleading.
We looked. A child, maybe six or seven, was on the ground. Her parents stood over her. Backs stiff and bodies tight. Their voices controlled but edged with frustration.
“Get up,” they said. “You need to get up. Now.”
“I need a hug,” the child begged. “I need a hug.”
For a full minute, we heard those words. Even after we passed, the crying lingered behind us. Other people walked by. No one stopped.
We slowed down but we didn’t go back. We were afraid our attention might make it worse.
The desperation settled into the pit of my stomach. My sister felt it too.
The Urge to Judge
My first thought was sharp. Why can’t they just give her a hug?
She wasn’t screaming or throwing things. She was asking for exactly what she needed. Just hug her, I thought. It would take five seconds.
But then I remembered the mall. My daughter’s meltdown. My nephew in the grocery store. The moments when I was so overwhelmed that everything I knew about co-regulation disappeared. When all I could think was, if they would just stop, this would stop.
My sister and I both work in the social work field. We understand what happens in a child’s brain when they’re that upset. The thinking part shuts down and the body takes over. Connection is the only thing that helps.
But knowing that doesn’t always mean you can do it. Not when your own protective parts are activated.
The Walk to the Theater
We talked about it all the way to the Benedum. On the way home, we were still processing.
“I’ve been there,” my sister said. “Not able to stay regulated when it’s happening.”
“Me too,” I said.
We both knew what that child needed. Her body was in full alarm mode. The part of her brain that could reason or calm down had gone offline. A hug, physical connection, someone saying with their body, I’m here, you’re safe. That’s what would have helped.
But we also knew what was probably happening with the parents. Their own alarm systems going off. Frustration, embarrassment, the weight of strangers watching. When your own protective parts are activated, you can’t co-regulate someone else. You can barely regulate yourself.
They were probably parenting the only way they knew how.
What IFS Teaches Us About Compassion
In IFS, Compassion is one of the 8 Cs of Self. It’s the quality that lets us see someone’s pain clearly, even when their protective parts are working hard to manage the situation.
That night I held two things at once. That child needed a hug and her parents couldn’t give it to her. She was suffering. They were suffering too. Both of those things were true.
My first reaction was to judge. That was a protective part of mine, the one that wanted to fix it, to make it make sense. But when that part stepped back, what came was Compassion. Not for just the child. For all of them.
In my post about parenting through meltdowns, I wrote about the moments when I could co-regulate. When I had enough space inside to stay present and help my daughter or nephew through their big feelings. But this was different. This was witnessing a moment when co-regulation wasn’t happening and knowing I couldn’t fix it.
Why “I Need a Hug” Haunts Me
I’ve seen plenty of public meltdowns. Screaming in grocery stores. Tantrums in parking lots. Crying on airplanes. Those moments put me right into the frustration the parents were feeling.
This was different. This child wasn’t screaming. She was asking. Clearly and directly for exactly what she needed.
Not “I want.” Not demanding.
“I need a hug.”
We probably didn’t get to see what happened leading up to that moment. But what we heard was a child whose body knew what would help, and she had the words to say it. That’s what made it so hard to walk away.
What We Can Do
I can’t go back and hug that child. I can’t teach those parents about co-regulation on a Pittsburgh sidewalk. Compassion doesn’t always come with the ability to help.
But I can write about it. And I can hold compassion for all of them. For the child who knew what she needed and the parents who were doing the only thing they knew how to do. And for the part of me that wanted to help and couldn’t.
A Reflection for Your Journey
Compassion is something we all have access to. It shows up when we can hold someone’s pain without needing to fix it.
- Think about a moment when you witnessed something that stayed with you. How did you hold compassion when you couldn’t help?
- Have you ever been the parent whose protective parts took over in a hard moment? What would it have meant to receive compassion instead of judgment?
- What part of you judges first and feels compassion second? What is that part trying to protect?
Sometimes compassion is a hug. And sometimes it’s carrying someone’s voice with you long after you’ve walked away.Â
This post is part of my monthly series exploring the 8 Cs of Internal Family Systems, a framework that shapes how I teach, write, and support healing. The 8 Cs are qualities described by Dr. Richard Schwartz, founder of the Internal Family Systems (IFS) model.
- Finding Compassion in Healing: The Child Who Asked for a Hug - May 11, 2026
- When a Children’s Book Shows Up at a Professional Conference - May 6, 2026
- Launch Day - May 4, 2026
I was in a zoom call and one of my friends who recently lost her mother was sharing about the holidays and began crying. She was also crying about the loss of her dog. I just wanted to reach through the zoom screen and give her a hug but I couldn’t. Instead, I hit the response button that sends hearts to the screen. After she was done speaking, I and others thanked her for her share and that our hearts are with her.
It’s hard to not be able to fix things for others. But we can offer love, support and compassion.
That was a really rough moment hearing that little kid beg for a hug. But I remember being that parent too. I really hope that was just one small moment in time and that the parents will give her the hug the next time.
Yeah, I think we’ve all been there. Luckily, I think we had more times of understanding, and we got better at staying regulated over time.