In a quiet corner of the sanctuary, a tiny newborn baby monkey let out a sharp, heart-tugging cry. Her soft fur was still fluffy from birth, and her tiny fingers reached out desperately—but Mama had turned away.
It was weaning time.
Mama, experienced and firm, had started the gentle process of teaching her baby independence. She was nearby, always watching, but today, she didn’t immediately pick her up or snuggle her the way the newborn had gotten used to.
The baby didn’t understand.
She wobbled on her tiny feet, crying louder with every second. Her tail curled tightly as she searched for warmth—her mother’s warmth. The soft coos and squeaks became a full-blown tantrum. Her little face scrunched up in frustration, and she pounded her hands gently on the floor, as if asking, “Why won’t you hold me, Mama?”
Mama glanced back, ears twitching, but didn’t rush over.
The newborn didn’t give up. She dragged herself forward and collapsed, arms outstretched, still crying with all her tiny might. She wasn’t hungry for milk—she was hungry for comfort.
Finally, Mama turned. She walked slowly toward her daughter and sat down, allowing the baby to climb onto her lap.
With one tired sigh, the newborn pressed her cheek against Mama’s chest and instantly went quiet.
Her eyes closed. Her tiny chest rose and fell.
She didn’t need food or play—she just needed to feel loved.
In that moment, Mama wrapped her arms gently around her baby again, reminding her: even if the cuddles are fewer now, love never goes away.
