The Comfort Cub started from a mother’s loss and grieving and has grown into a company focused on therapeutic healing and hope. Each weighted therapeutic teddy bear comes with a personal handwritten letter from Encinitas resident Marcella Johnson, whose baby boy George died peacefully in her arms the day he was born.
Each teddy bear is designed to provide healing both for the heart and body. The company, which was recently honored with a NAPPA Award, now extends beyond navigating grief, to supporting mental wellness for those experiencing anxiety, trauma, illness and other challenging life events.
We recently chatted with Marcella, who is the mother of five and grandmother of three.
While I have read your bio on your website, tell us more about the time of your grieving, the potted plant your father handed you and what happened at that moment and the days that followed?
Along with the obvious emotional pain of losing a child, I also experienced unusual physical pain that I had never felt before. My heart hurt, and my arms ached. Nothing would make it go away. I even went to the doctor, and he couldn’t determine what was wrong.
Shortly after my son’s passing, my dad and I went to visit his gravesite. When we arrived, we saw a beautiful terra-cotta pot filled with flowers that someone had left there. My dad suggested I take it home, but I was in such a deep state of depression that I wasn’t interested in anything. He gently insisted it might lift my spirits, and just to appease him, I reluctantly picked it up.
That’s when something incredible happened. The moment I held that cold, heavy pot in my arms, the aching in my heart and arms immediately went away. It was so surprising—and honestly, a little strange—that I didn’t even mention it to my dad. But I quickly realized that every time I put the pot down, the pain returned. So I found myself carrying it everywhere, thinking I must have lost my mind.
Later, I learned that this is actually quite common. When women lose a child, they often instinctively seek out weighted objects—sometimes carrying things like a sack of flour, a lamp, or even a pineapple—because the weight mimics the feeling of holding their baby.
When I realized this, I felt strongly that there needed to be something more dignified and intentional to support grieving mothers. That’s when I was inspired to create a weighted teddy bear designed to mimic the weight and shape of a newborn baby. At the time, nothing like it existed.
I made the first prototype by hand and brought it to the social workers who had supported me at San Diego Hospice and Mary Birch Hospital. They immediately saw its value and asked me to make more for their patients. In the beginning, I made each one by hand with the help of friends, and I personally wrote every letter that accompanied each Comfort Cub.
At first, it was difficult to get the medical community to fully understand its importance. But the mothers and families who received them did. Their response made it clear this was something meaningful.
Years later, I learned that the pain I had experienced is called Takotsubo syndrome, or “broken heart syndrome,” a condition brought on by acute grief. The aching in my arms is often referred to as “empty arm syndrome”—a very real sensation of longing to hold your child.
Holding a Comfort Cub helps alleviate both.
Tell us a little about the people and families you have met since starting Comfort Cub?
I’ve met so many incredible families along the way. In the beginning, my focus was on mothers and families who had lost a child. But very quickly and organically, The Comfort Cub expanded into many other areas.
Early on, I spoke at a hospital to a group of social workers from various organizations. One woman shared that she worked with mothers placing their babies for adoption. That moment was eye-opening—while their children had not died, they were still experiencing a profound loss. They no longer had their child to hold.
From there, we began working with families whose babies were in the NICU. Parents often have to leave the hospital without their newborns, which can be incredibly traumatic. The Comfort Cub helps fill that physical and emotional space while they wait to bring their babies home.
We’ve also seen it help mothers struggling with breastfeeding. Holding the Comfort Cub has helped some women relax enough to allow milk letdown.
Over time, requests expanded beyond child loss to include anyone grieving a loved one—a parent, sibling, or friend—and really any situation involving trauma or loss.
I understand you work with various hospitals and organizations throughout Southern California. Please tell us more about these collaborations.
We’re honored to work with hospitals and organizations throughout Southern California. In San Diego, we partner with virtually every hospital. In Los Angeles, we work with major institutions including UCLA, Cedars-Sinai, Children’s Hospital Los Angeles, Loma Linda and CHOC.
We also collaborate with organizations like The Dream Center, the Los Angeles Department of Education, and the Los Angeles County Department of Children and Family Services. Through these partnerships, we’ve been able to support children and families impacted by traumatic events, including the recent devastating Los Angeles wildfires.
These collaborations allow us to place Comfort Cubs directly into the hands of people when they need them most.
How has the mission of Comfort Cub evolved since you began?
We originally created The Comfort Cub for women and families who had lost a child. Over time, we realized that holding our weighted, therapeutic teddy bear is a form of deep touch therapy.
Once we understood that it could help calm the body, we saw that it could support people in many different types of trauma. We began working with the San Diego Police Department through their trauma intervention programs, where Comfort Cubs were used on emergency calls and found to be very effective in bringing calm to highly stressful situations.
From there, we began receiving requests from across the country in response to large-scale tragedies—mass shootings, natural disasters like floods, and devastating wildfires.
While our reach has expanded, our mission remains the same: to provide comfort in moments of deep need.
What makes you most proud about your company?
I’m most proud that we’re still here after 27 years. We started with no roadmap—I simply wanted to make the path a little easier for the next mother walking through the kind of loss I experienced.
To now know we’ve impacted more than 150,000 people is truly humbling.
I’m also incredibly proud of our small but mighty team. Everyone involved has their own personal story of loss or trauma. This isn’t just work for us—it’s deeply personal. We care about this mission because we’ve lived it.
What are some projects you’re currently working on and looking forward to?
We are really looking forward to helping to support the families of those who perished during 9/11. We have recently been asked to join Voices Center for Resilience (formerly Voices of September 11th) for its 25th anniversary this year in New York City. We will be distributing Comfort Cubs to those families who are still dealing with the trauma of losing their loved ones. It will be our honor to participate in this important event, which has deeply affected our nation. We also look forward to finding new people and organizations to help. So if your readers think their group could benefit from having Comfort Cubs we’d love to hear from them. They can reach us at our website by clicking on the “For Organizations” tab.
How have you personally changed/evolved since starting this company?
When I started, my focus was solely on the loss of a child. Over time, I’ve learned that grief comes in many forms, and there is no comparison in loss. What matters is what that loss means to the person experiencing it.
A broken heart can come from losing a loved one, a pet, a marriage, a sense of identity, or even a dream.
This work has made me much more compassionate. I’ve come to understand that life is hard, and we all carry things others cannot see. Because of that, I believe deeply in the importance of kindness. You never know what someone else is going through, and even the smallest act of compassion can make a difference.
