Max Genecov is a doctoral candidate in clinical psychology at the University of Pennsylvania, a dad, and a stuffed animal owner.

“I’ve always had them growing up, I had a big fantasy life with them (as a child),” he said. “I just think that they’re nice things you have.”

He has a plush racoon from his childhood, crochets them when friends or family have babies, and still sometimes hugs a stuffed animal or uses one as a pillow when he sleeps, he said.

It might sound unusual, but when you think about it –– is it really?

Plush sales grew over the Covid-19 pandemic, and in 2024, 21% of plush toys were sold to adults over 18, according to Juli Lennett, US toys industry adviser at Circana, a market research and technology company in Chicago.

Stuffed animals “struck a chord with young adults and adults as a means to entertain, collect, and provide comfort during the pandemic,” she said in an email.

Build-A-Bear even has an entire section of its website dedicated to products for grown-ups. A survey the company commissioned found that more than half of people held on to a childhood stuffed animal, and about 40% said they sleep with a plush toy.

“I wonder if people are seeking more comfort in the face of uncertainty,” said Dr. Jade Wu, a sleep psychologist and founder of Thrive Sleep Clinic in Durham, North Carolina. And for people living on their own, it could be nice to have something to cuddle with at night, she added.

There is nothing wrong with having a stuffed animal as an adult or using one to sleep better, experts said. In fact, there are a lot of positives to it.

Many people have held onto their stuffed animals from childhood, and many people have bought new ones in adulthood, data shows.

Stuffed animals are for anyone

As a mental health therapist in Seattle, Dr. Jessica Lamar uses stuffed animals with adults who are working through trauma, she said.

They go to Build-A-Bear and make a bear to represent their inner child or a younger version of themselves so they can heal trauma from childhood, she said.

Patients giving the bears the comfort, connection and compassion they might not have gotten enough of as a child can be very helpful, Lamar added.

But stuffed animals aren’t just for people working through trauma. Anyone can benefit from the gentleness, softness and self-soothing that a cute, plush object can bring, Genecov said.

Lamar agreed, noting that a stuffed animal you’ve had since childhood can provide nostalgia, a connection to family or friends you are far from, and a touchpoint for pleasant memories.

“It can be very cozy, relaxing and nice,” Wu said. “There’s no reason why adults can’t have the benefits of that kids get.”

It’s not immature to cuddle with a stuffie

But that is the problem –– stuffed animals are for kids, you might be thinking.

“If we think about it from the lens of being like a healthy, balanced adult, I actually think it’s really helpful to say, ‘Hey, I am this adult who’s in college, and I still have this healthy attachment to my childhood,’” Lamar said. “It’s really wonderful to be able to say, ‘This is a part of my child self that I want to stay connected to.’”

Maybe there would be an issue if someone became severely distressed or unable to sleep when they were separated from their stuffed animal, Lamar said. It could also be a problem if people used their stuffed animals to avoid other issues, said Dr. Barbara Greenberg, a clinical psychologist in Weston, Connecticut.

But both said they haven’t seen that become an issue.

In fact, using a stuffed animal to feel better could be good modeling to the kids in your life, Greenberg said.

“This is one of the ways to self soothe. We take something like an animal into our bed; it’s comforting,’” she said. “That’s one of the things you have to teach kids when they’re young, how to self-regulate, how to self soothe.”

Especially important is to let boys keep their stuffed animals –– they need self-soothing too, Greenberg said.

A sleep buddy

A stuffed animal in your bed at night might be meeting evolutionary needs, Wu said.

“We evolved to live in tribes and to have a village,” she said. “We sleep the best when we feel safe, so when we’re feeling vulnerable … then we want that bodily contact.

“Social sleeping makes us feel more safe and sleep better. So, a stuffed animal may be sort of a good alternative to having someone else sleeping in your bed.”

Even over the course of a life, it makes sense to need contact when you sleep, Lamar added. The womb is a very safe space; then as babies, humans are swaddled to sleep, she said.

“As we get older, that obviously becomes less of a need, but that need is still there,” Lamar said.

Some stuffed animals are even weighted to provide a little extra pressure when you snuggle up.

“There is some research showing that weighted blankets, at least, can help to calm the mind and body,” Wu said. “I could definitely see a weight of stuffed animals serving a similar function as a weighted blanket in that way.”

If nothing else, stuffed animals can help with better sleep by providing a signal to the brain that it is time to wind down, Wu added.

“The feeling of it, the smell of it, the sight of it, can be associated with sleep, and so helps to signal that you know sleep is coming,” she said.

However you use your favorite stuffed animal –– displayed on a shelf, tucked in a closet or ready for you in bed at night –– it is great if it can be a way to get better sleep, Greenberg said.

“If it helps you with stress, it’s a much better alternative than taking a tranquilizer or drinking a glass of wine. It hurts nobody,” she said.

A young woman who went into A&E crying woke up to discover her leg had been amputated after she waited 16 hours for surgery.

Molly Harbron, 26, said she was in ‘a lot of pain’ as she made her way to Dewsbury and District Hospital in West Yorkshire.

The former carer’s foot and leg were left numb and discoloured by blood clots and she knew ‘something wasn’t right’.

But Ms Harbron has now been handed a six-figure payout as doctors admitted they probably wouldn’t have had to chop her leg off if she’d had surgery by 9pm the same day.

The then-22-year-old made her way to A&E complaining of a numb and cold left leg and discoloured foot at 11.30am on April 25, 2020.

Medics suspected deep vein thrombosis, or a blood clot in a vein – but failed to carry out adequate tests.

Just over a day later, Ms Harbron woke up from surgery to discover the amputation.

She said: ‘I was in a lot of pain, I knew something wasn’t right.

Molly Harbron post-amputation. Hospital staff admitted Ms Harbron probably would have avoided having her leg amputated if she’d had surgery by 9pm same day

‘I was crying to my mum and asked her to take me to the hospital. All I remember was there being a delay and then waking up from surgery.

‘When I was woken up the surgeon showed me they had amputated my leg. However, I didn’t really believe them as I could still feel my leg.

‘When the realisation dawned on me I just broke down and cried.

‘Before my amputation, life was great. I was really active, I went running three times a week and had a physically demanding job which I loved.

‘But then it felt like life wasn’t worth living with one leg. I couldn’t come to terms with the fact I had lost a leg and I needed to take it further because I didn’t want it to happen to anyone else.’

Hospital staff admitted Ms Harbron probably would have avoided having her leg amputated if she’d had surgery by 9pm same day.

Instead, her surgery was delayed until 1.30pm the following day – and doctors were unable to restore blood flow to her leg.

She had to spend a further 18 days in hospital following the amputation, which led to her quitting her job as a carer.

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Molly Harbron before her leg amputation. She said: ‘Before my amputation, life was great. I was really active, I went running three times a week and had a physically demanding job which I loved’

Ms Harbron needed to be carried up and down the stairs to her first floor flat each day, as she was unable to make the trip on her own.

She instructed medical negligence lawyers at Irwin Mitchell to investigate her care under Mid Yorkshire Teaching NHS Trust, which admitted a breach of duty.

A month after leaving hospital, she met her partner Daniel.

The couple has since married, and she was able to walk down the aisle through the use of a prosthetic leg.

However, Ms Harbron said the prosthetic was not designed for her body and felt uncomfortable to wear.

Now, as part of a six-figure interim payout, the former carer has moved to a bungalow and started using a specially designed privately-funded prosthesis.

She said: ‘The first prosthetic I had from the NHS was very uncomfortable. I could only wear it for an hour max.

‘However, the new prosthetic fits to me. It helps me walk more smoothly.

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Lawyers are now working on getting Ms Harbron a final compensation package to pay for life-time support, physiotherapy, and upkeep of her prosthetic

‘I can walk downstairs, go to the shops, drive and I’m hoping to run one day. It’s changed my life so much and I feel like a normal person again.

‘I never imagined I’d have the life I have now. I have a brilliant husband, an amazing family; I never imagined that was possible.

‘I thought my life was going to be me stuck in a wheelchair, until I realised I can do anything I put my mind to.

‘By sharing my story I hope I can not only help others who may be struggling with going through something similar but also improve care.

‘What happened to me could have been avoided so I want to try and prevent it happening to someone else.’

Lawyers are now working on getting Ms Harbron a final compensation package to pay for life-time support, physiotherapy, and upkeep of her prosthetic.

Ashlee Coates, the expert medical negligence lawyer at Irwin Mitchell representing her said: ‘Through our work we too often see how failings connected to inadequate assessments and delays can lead to significant injuries.

‘Molly’s case vividly highlights the life-changing repercussions patients can be left to face.

‘Molly has faced an incredibly difficult time attempting to come to terms with the physical and psychological impact of her losing her leg. However, she’s always remained determined to make the best recovery possible.

‘We knew the priority for Molly was ensuring she had a suitable home to live in and access to the specialist support she required.

‘The part payment of compensation has allowed this to happen. The progress in her rehabilitation has been phenomenal and Molly is now working towards the life she wanted.

‘Although her story is a stark reminder of the need to uphold the highest standards of patient safety, it also highlights how, through early access to rehab, people can start to flourish after losing a limb.’

They make an unlikely duo. But after meeting at a reserve for endangered animals, Suryia the orangutan and Roscoe the Bluetick hound have become inseparable.

And now the pals have released a picture book capturing their unorthodox friendship.

The best friends were besieged by young fans as they held their own signing for the new release at a bookstore in Georgetown, South Carolina.

Smile for the camera: But I do wonder if Cheetah and Rin Tin Tin got bored with book signings too?

Pooling their talents: Roscoe gets a helping hand for the doggie paddle while the pair are clearly in love

A proper nana: Actually, I’d prefer something with a bit more pedigree, chum

Entitled Suryia And Roscoe, the book shows the pair enjoying each other’s company at the South Carolina wildlife reserve where they met.

Just hanging around: The king of the swingers up a tree alongside orangutan’s best friend

In one photo, a stubborn Roscoe refuses to eat a banana offered by his friend.

Another shows Suryia in a life jacket closely watching over Roscoe as he goes for a doggie-paddle.

And, as if posing for holiday snaps, they are also captured taking walks through the gardens and posing in front of an elephant.

The friends have garnered worldwide media attention, appearing in the National Geographic magazine and on the Oprah Winfrey and Ellen DeGeneres shows in the U.S.

They met four years ago when Roscoe followed staff from The Institute of Greatly Endangered and Rare Species (TIGERS) in Myrtle Beach as they walked home.

He was immediately spotted by the orangutan, who ambled over to make friends.

Dr Bhagavan Antle, the reserve’s founder, said: ‘Roscoe looked really thin and a little lost so we fed him and took care of him.

‘He followed us through the gate and ran over and found Suryia. As soon as he saw Roscoe, Suryia ran over to him and they started playing.

‘Dogs are usually scared of primates, but they took to each other straight away. We made a few calls to see if he belonged to anyone and when no one came forward, Roscoe ended up staying.’

6 months ago, I was designing a nursery and deciding whether to use cloth or disposable nappies. I had no idea my entire life was going to turn upside down—twice.
It began with a dull pain in my thigh. I suspected it was pregnancy-related, maybe a pinched nerve or sciatica. But things grew worse.

After my daughter, Liora, was born, I pushed through it because I wanted to cherish every minute with her. I was enamoured with the fragrance of newborns and their tiny fingers. But the anguish intensified. One morning, I couldn’t bear to rock her.

I eventually went in for a scan. The doctor entered with that expression. The one who says, “This isn’t going to be easy.” It was an uncommon kind of soft tissue cancer, aggressive and spreading quickly. I recall grabbing the side of the hospital bed and thinking, “I just had a baby.” I do not have time for cancer.

Chemo began immediately. My milk has dried up. I had to give Liora to my mother most nights since I could not stop vomiting. The tumour eventually grew into my femur. They stated amputation would offer me a greater chance. I signed the documents without sobbing; I didn’t want anyone to feel sorry for me. I awoke from surgery with one leg and a weight of shame. I could not bear my daughter. I couldn’t chase her after she learnt to crawl. I couldn’t wear the outfit I purchased for her naming ceremony.

But I am still here.

It was 3 weeks ago. I’ve begun physiotherapy. Liora is teething. And this morning, I discovered something in my medical file that I shouldn’t have seen. Something about a scan that they never informed me about. I’m not sure if they’re suppressing the truth or if I’ll have to fight again.

I walked my little living room, leaning on crutches with the scary scan paper in my palm. My heart felt like it was pulsing in my throat. I wanted to call my doctor straight away, but I was hesitant—what if there was an error? The report was filled of medical jargon, but one phrase stuck out: “suspicious lesion in the right lung.” I didn’t recall anyone mentioning my lungs. My whole emphasis had been on my leg.
Finally, I called my oncologist’s office. They closed for the day. My next appointment was the following week, but I couldn’t wait that long. My belly churned with the idea that the cancer had spread.

The next days were a whirl of restless nights and attempts at normalcy. Liora’s brilliant eyes and drooly grin were the only things that kept me grounded. I held her close while feeding her and stroked my nose against her soft cheek to calm my rushing thoughts. When I fell from physical and mental weariness, Mum stepped in to provide late-night feeds. I knew she was worried, too. She kept asking whether I was all right, and I pretended I was. I didn’t want to add any more stress to our already crazy lives.

When my appointment day arrived, I felt as if I were stepping into a courtroom. Every hallway in the hospital reverberated with recollections of chemo, amputation, and the sinking dread I’d felt for months. I could almost smell the antiseptic that had been about me for so long. This time, however, I wheeled my wheelchair to my oncologist’s office since my stump was too uncomfortable after a recent session of physical therapy to use crutches for such a long distance.

My oncologist, Dr. Armitage, greeted me with the same serious yet compassionate smile. I did not even wait for short conversation. “I discovered a letter describing a worrisome tumour in my right lung. Is it cancerous? “Why didn’t someone tell me?”
He sighed, appearing really sorry. “I wanted to confirm the results before upsetting you.

The word “malignant” struck me like an avalanche, but I pushed myself to remain calm. At least I knew the truth now. Another scan was scheduled for the following week, with a biopsy if necessary.
The next three days seemed strange. I tried to keep up with Liora’s schedule, but every time she grinned or held out her arms, I wondered if I’d be well enough to see her grow. My thoughts spiralled into dark depths. To cope, I immersed myself in physical therapy, trying to master my new prosthetic limb.

At the rehabilitation centre, I met a woman named Saoirse. She had lost her leg in a vehicle accident years before. She appeared calm and controlled, the complete antithesis of my inner turmoil. She taught me minor methods for improved balance, pivoting without toppling over, and overcoming the phantom aches that kept me up at night. She also recounted her tale, revealing that she was more than simply a trauma survivor; she was a single mother raising her kid after losing her husband to a stroke. Listening to her tale gave me strength. She’d been through more pain than most people could understand, and here she was, inspiring me to fight for my future.
“Keep your heart open,” she instructed me one afternoon as we practiced walking in a mirrored room. People will surprise you with their kindness. And so will you, once you realise your true strength.”
I took that counsel to heart.

A week later, the day for my fresh scan arrived. My mother took me to the hospital, and we both remained silent throughout the journey. We had previously gone over every imaginable situation a dozen times. This was it—the final piece of the jigsaw that would determine whether I needed extra therapy or whether I could continue to mend my body as is.

Liora was with my aunt, who had come to stay for a few days to help. In the waiting area, I felt as if all the walls were closing in. The scent of antiseptic irritated my nose, and the machinery surrounding me seemed louder than normal. I went to my mother and told her, “I am not ready for another round of chemotherapy. “I’m not sure if my body can handle it.”
She held my hand and said, “Whatever happens, we’ll make it through together.”

Finally, I received a call. The scan was finished quickly, but the wait for the results felt like an eternity. Dr. Armitage walked in with a folder. His expression was unreadable. I tried to prepare for the worst.

He exclaimed, “Good news,” and I believe my breath seized in my chest. “The lesion looks to be stable, and we believe it is benign. We will continue to examine it, but it does not appear that cancer has spread.”
I wasn’t sure whether to cry or laugh. I went for a combination of the two—tears flowing down my cheeks, a trembling grin splitting my cheeks. Mum hugged me so tightly that it felt like she would never let go. My whole body trembled, yet relief washed over me like a warm blanket on a chilly night.

In the weeks that followed, I focused my attention on becoming stronger, both for myself and for Liora.My new prosthetic limb was difficult, but every stride felt like recovering a piece of my life. I got up early for light stretching, which helped with the phantom discomfort. I discovered that rubbing the stump before bed relieved nocturnal agony, and as I improved my manoeuvring skills, I felt secure enough to carry Liora in my arms while standing, something I hadn’t done since before the operation.

The more I practiced, I realised I wasn’t simply becoming better physically. My spirit felt lighter. The heavy veil of continual anxiety began to dissipate. Yes, there was still a chance I’d require more scans and tests. But it was part of my new reality: living with the awareness that cancer may always be lurking in the background but nevertheless choosing to move on.
One morning, while I was cautiously walking around the living room with Liora in my arms, she gave the nicest laugh. She reached up and caressed my face with her small palm, and I saw she didn’t care about my scars, prosthetics, or the fact that I was exhausted faster than usual. She only wanted me.

We held a small gathering to commemorate this new chapter—a short “victory” celebration, if you will. My mother cooked a vanilla cake with vivid pink icing. A couple childhood friends stopped over with flowers and balloons, as did my physical therapist and Saoirse. We lifted our glasses (mainly filled with lemonade) in a modest toast to survival, perseverance, and the little things we sometimes take for granted.

That evening, as I put Liora into her cot, I looked at her tranquil face and reflected on how far we’d come in just half a year. The nursery walls, formerly painted with pink elephants and rainbows, now appeared to represent the entire voyage. Life had thrown me upside down several times, yet I was still standing—literally and figuratively—with my kid in my arms.

Sometimes we don’t get to select the fights we fight. When things spin out of hand, we don’t have the option of hitting pause. But we do get to choose how we respond. Some days, I wanted to hide beneath the blankets and cry till I couldn’t breathe. Yet every time I glanced at Liora’s face, I found a cause to keep going.

If there is one thing I hope everyone takes away from this narrative, it is that life can change on a dime. Nobody can expect an easy route. Even if you lose a bit of yourself—a limb, your health, even your peace of mind—you can still go on. It might be via the support of family, a stranger who becomes a friend, or the steadfast love in your child’s eyes.

Never underestimate the power of resolve, and never allow your circumstances to define you. We are all more resilient than we realise. Whether you’re dealing with a health crisis, a loss, or any huge challenge, remember that you have the power to keep going. You might be surprised at what you can overcome.

Thanks for reading my story. If it touched your heart, please share it with someone who might use a little hope. And if it inspired you to believe in your own strength a bit more, please like and share. Life might be unpredictable, but we can remind each other that there is always cause to hope—and that love can overcome any challenge.