Tiny newborn Tourtour, just five days old, lay curled up, his frail body trembling.
His right hand was wounded, a small but painful injury that made him whimper softly.
He didn’t understand why it hurt. All he knew was that every time he tried to move his tiny fingers, a sharp pain made him flinch and cry.
Mom noticed his struggle. She gently scooped him up, pressing him close to her warm chest.
“Shh, my little one, Mommy’s here.”
But Tourtour still let out a tiny, pitiful cry.
His small eyes blinked up at Mom, searching for comfort, for relief from the pain.
Mom kissed his soft head, rubbing his back gently.
She carefully inspected his wound. It wasn’t too deep, but for a newborn, even the smallest pain felt big.
She softly blew on it, hoping to ease his discomfort. Tourtour whimpered but nestled deeper into her arms.
All he wanted was Mom’s love.
As she rocked him gently, his tiny fingers curled around hers, holding on with all his strength.
