Tiny Wings, Big Love – The First Breath
The nest was quiet, save for the rustling of leaves in the soft morning breeze. The mother sat still, her body curved protectively around the two most precious things in her world—her newborn and the egg that had yet to open.
Her first child chirped sleepily, his tiny wings twitching as he dreamed. She preened his feathers gently, her heart swelling with love. But her gaze kept drifting back to the egg.
Please, she thought. Just one crack. One sign.
Then—
A sound.
Faint. Delicate.
Her breath caught.
There it was again—a tiny tap from inside the shell.
Her pulse quickened. She leaned closer, her wings trembling. "Yes, my love," she whispered. "I'm here. Keep going."
Another tap. Then another.
A hairline fracture appeared, so fine she might have missed it if she hadn't been watching so intently. Her chest tightened. This was it. Her baby was fighting to meet her.
The first chick stirred, sensing the change. He peeped curiously, nudging closer to his mother as if to say, What’s happening?
She chirped softly in reassurance, but her focus remained on the egg. The crack lengthened, splitting into tiny veins across the surface. A small piece chipped away.
Then—a tiny beak, wet and fragile, poked through.
Tears welled in the mother’s eyes. Her baby was here. Alive. Breathing.
The struggle was far from over. The chick pushed weakly, exhausted already. The mother resisted the urge to help—she knew breaking free was a necessary fight, one that would make her child strong. But oh, how her heart ached watching.
"Come on, little one," she urged softly. "You can do it."
Minutes passed like hours. Bit by bit, the shell gave way. A wing emerged, then a head, damp with effort. And then—
A tiny, trembling body tumbled into the nest, gasping its first breath.
The mother’s world stopped.
Her second child.
Alive.
Here.
She gathered the newborn close, warming the tiny, shivering form with her feathers. The chick blinked up at her, its eyes still cloudy with exhaustion, but alive.
Her firstborn chirped excitedly, peering at his new sibling with innocent curiosity. The mother nuzzled them both, her heart so full she thought it might burst.
They were both here now.
Her family was complete.
The sun rose higher, bathing the nest in golden light. The wind carried the songs of other birds, but none sounded as sweet as the soft peeps of her children.
She had waited. She had hoped.
And now, she would never let go.
—
Love is a promise kept.
Love is a mother’s wings, forever open.
