Newborn baby Bubu lay quietly at first, wrapped only in a thin cloth, his tiny body feeling strangely cool against the air. He didn’t understand why Mom had stepped away. He only felt the cold creeping over his skin. Slowly, his face tightened, lips quivered, and a soft cry slipped out, fragile and uncertain.
The cry grew louder as seconds passed. Bubu’s arms waved weakly, searching for the warmth he had just lost. His legs curled toward his belly, trying to protect himself. He wasn’t angry. He was uncomfortable, confused, and far too small to wait patiently. To him, every moment without Mom felt long and lonely.
His cries echoed through the room, thin but urgent. His eyes squeezed shut as tears gathered, rolling down his tiny cheeks. He shivered slightly, making small sounds between sobs, as if asking the world to hurry. Caregivers watched closely, ready to help, but they knew this moment belonged to Mom and Bubu.
From the other room, Mom moved quickly, choosing a clean, soft outfit. She knew the chill could make him cry harder. Bubu’s voice cracked, then paused, then rose again, his breathing uneven. He kicked gently, hands opening and closing, calling for comfort the only way he knew how.
Finally, footsteps approached. Bubu’s cries changed instantly, filled with hope. When Mom appeared, his eyes opened wide. He cried louder for just a second, releasing all the waiting and worry. Mom lifted him gently, pressing him against her warm chest.
As the new outfit slipped over his tiny body, warmth returned. His cries faded into soft whimpers, then quiet sighs. Wrapped, held, and safe, Bubu relaxed completely. His breathing slowed, eyes half-closed, fingers curling around Mom’s shirt.
Bubu didn’t cry because he was spoiled. He cried because newborns feel everything deeply. And when warmth and love returned, so did his peace.
