In the stillness of early morning, deep in the forest edge, the cries of a tiny newborn monkey echoed softly. Her mother, weak and malnourished, had passed away just hours after giving birth. The fragile baby clung to her mother’s unmoving body, her tiny fingers trembling and her breath shallow. She was barely a day old, eyes not fully open, and completely unaware of the harsh world around her.
A wildlife volunteer had been nearby, alerted by the sound of a baby’s cry. As he approached, his heart sank at the sight of the lifeless mother. Gently, he lifted the newborn, who let out a faint whimper, too tired to struggle. He wrapped her in a soft cloth and named her Santa—a symbol of hope in such a sorrowful beginning.
Back at the shelter, Santa was placed in a warm incubator. Her body was cold, her belly empty. Volunteers took turns feeding her with a dropper, holding her close so she could feel a heartbeat—something to remind her she wasn’t alone anymore.
Though weak, Santa had a spark inside her. On her second day, she lifted her head for the first time. On the third, she wrapped her tiny hand around a finger. And on the fourth day, she made her first real sound—a soft, high-pitched cry that filled the room with emotion.
The journey ahead would be long. She had no mother to teach her or protect her. But she had humans who cared deeply and were ready to become her new family.
Santa was a survivor. And though she came into the world with loss, she would grow with love—day by day, heartbeat by heartbeat.
