In the heart of the jungle, under the shade of wide banana leaves, a young monkey named Lina held her first baby for the very first time. The infant clung to her chest tightly, eyes closed, soft breaths rising and falling.
Lina was just past childhood herself. Not long ago, she had been the playful one — chasing butterflies, stealing fruits. But now, she was a mother. And it felt confusing, frightening… and exhausting.
When her tiny baby reached up to nurse, Lina winced. She didn’t understand why he did it. His tiny hands pulled at her chest, his mouth searching for comfort and milk.
She growled softly and pushed him away.
The other adult females watched. Some had been mothers before. They understood. But Lina… she shook her head, irritated and overwhelmed. “Why does he keep doing this?” her body language said. She seemed to hate the feeling, the responsibility — this little life so completely depending on her.
Her baby whimpered. Again, he reached out for her warmth, for her milk. Again, she shoved him off, harshly this time. He tumbled back a little, his cry turning from soft to sharp.
A caretaker, observing from a nearby rescue station, sighed. “She’s struggling,” she said gently. “She’s just too young.”
They moved in to help.
Soon, the baby was carefully taken and given warm formula while Lina watched from a safe distance. Her face didn’t show anger anymore — only confusion. Perhaps guilt. Perhaps relief.
With time and gentle training, Lina would learn what motherhood meant. She didn’t hate her baby — she just didn’t understand how to love him yet.
