Newborn baby Bubu wriggled weakly on the table, his tiny body driven by instinct more than strength. He could not see far, but he could feel absence. His mother was not there, and that feeling pushed him to move. Slowly, awkwardly, he stretched his small arms forward, dragging himself inch by inch, believing Mom must be somewhere close.
The table felt wide and unfamiliar. Bubu’s legs trembled as he tried to crawl, his belly pressing against the surface. He made soft calling sounds, thin and pleading, hoping Mom would answer. Each movement took effort, but stopping felt worse. Being still meant being alone.
As he reached the edge, Bubu didn’t understand the danger. His tiny hand slipped, then his body followed. In a sudden moment, he tumbled off the table and fell to the floor. The shock stole his breath. A sharp cry burst out, louder than before, filled with fear and pain.
He lay there stunned, little chest rising fast. Tears streamed as he cried for his mom, louder now, desperate. The world felt too big and too hard. He kicked weakly, confused about why searching had ended like this. All he wanted was warmth and safety.
Hearing the cry, Mom rushed in. She scooped Bubu up immediately, holding him tight against her chest. The crying continued for a moment, then softened as he felt her heartbeat. His body relaxed, clinging instinctively, afraid to be let go again.
Mom checked him carefully, kissing his head, whispering comfort. Bubu’s cries faded into quiet whimpers, then silence. He had fallen, but he was not alone anymore. In her arms, he finally felt safe. That day showed how strong instinct can be, even in the smallest bodies. Newborn Bubu didn’t move out of curiosity—he moved out of love. Searching for Mom led to a fall, but it also led him back where he belonged. In warmth, in care, and in arms that would never stop protecting him.
