Motherly Instinct Novels & Stories

I’d have thought seeing him wigging out like that would have put her off parenthood forever, but apparently the mothering instinct is super-retarded in some women. “We’re practically kids ourselves,” I said. “Who knows what’ll happen in the future?” “I do,” said Jenny. “Prepare yourself.” It’s a bit of an aggressive stance to take with a guy. We don’t like to be told what to do, especially not by a girl. I’m not saying that’s something to be proud of, or should be indulged, but it’s certainly a basic instinct for most of us. I don’t think that’s too outrageous a statement.

"But he'll die without it. This week. Maybe next week. And he's just a child." "You don't know him," his mother whispered. "Why would you risk yourself for a stranger's baby?" Eve was quiet for a moment. Genuinely quiet, like she was searching for the answer inside herself. "I don't know," she finally said. "I can't feel compassion properly. Can't feel the maternal pull that would normally make this obvious. But something is telling me this is right. Some instinct underneath the emptiness." She touched Eli's small hand again. "Maybe that's what's left when you strip away emotion. Just instinct. Just the core of what you actually are."

Addy tasted him, the sharp, metallic note of fear. Around her, the world became a fight to keep the corridor open for Joey and the babies. She ripped and spun, the wolf within her a blade, slashing, one step back to buy space as the intruders lunged. She was not a fighter in the old, trained sense; motherhood made each strike a vow. Every throat she had to take out was because a child might be snatched away if she did not.

I asked her because I couldn’t believe it. She gazed into my eyes and saw that mom’s eye glinted. “This is a maternal instinct, son. I discovered you were stressed, particularly since you were in pain,” she informed me. She patted the chair next to her to show that she was sending me there, and I rushed over. She forcefully grasped my hand. “I know that you’re going through a lot today; thus, if you have a problem, don’t be afraid to approach me; I’m willing to listen to you and empathize with you.”

Ryan rested a hand on my shoulder, warm and steady. “She’s tough,” he said quietly. “She gets that from all of you.” As I watched Molly breathe, slow and even now, one truth settled deep in my bones: Motherhood wasn’t ownership. It was vigilance. It was showing up. It was fear and love braided so tightly you couldn’t tell where one ended and the other began. And in that hospital room, under flickering fluorescent lights, we were all her parents in the only way that mattered.

I said back. I got up, stretched my back and winced in pain, she did not hold back one bit, “you’re always hurting my baby” mom said to Aunt Taylor as she came to me, for a second I had forgotten that my mother was a healer, she quickly patched me up, making me sigh in relief, “thanks mom” I said kissing her on the cheek. One thing that makes my mother and I different from every other wolf out there is that we are the last descendants of the moon goddess. Her bloodline gives us extra abilities, my mom can heal and I, well, I catch fire when I'm mad and I have a temper just as hot.

Rajeev buried his face in her shoulder, tears flowing freely as the weight of years without his mother lifted from him. The bond between a mother and her child is a connection that transcends time and distance. It is an intricate weave of unconditional love, instinctual understanding, and deep emotional resonance. A mother’s heart is uniquely attuned to her child, a lifelong bond that begins even before birth and continues to grow, no matter the circumstances.

Grace’s mother spoke. As Grace's mother voiced her concerns, tension settled over the room, casting a shadow over the celebrations. It was clear that she was grappling with conflicting emotions, torn between the societal expectations of correctitude and the primal instincts of maternal love. Her unexpected display of indifference caught both her husband and her daughter off guard, a stark contrast to the jubilant atmosphere that had permeated the mansion just moments before. In that moment, Grace couldn't help but wonder if perhaps her mother's maternal instincts were working against her, clouding her judgment and stirring up a storm of doubt and regret within her soul.

Unforgivable. But as I looked at her so small, so broken, so utterly lost in the midst of this h*lllscape another feeling surged, fierce and undeniable. It wasn't calculation. It wasn't about the loophole. It was a primal, maternal pull, a recognition of profound, unbearable suffering. The same instinct that had made me push myself to come here, despite my own pain. This child needed safety. She needed shelter. She needed someone to hold her while her world lay in smouldering ruins.

I took out the wipes I just bought and cleaned myself up as much as possible before getting back into the car. I calmed down the twins and drove to old mothers. I finally arrived and told old mother everything that happened as I packed out the groceries and who I suspected I killed. Eventually, I sat down across from her after switching on the kettle for a much needed coffee. She looked at me for a moment and then, in a calm voice, said; "Don't worry, my girl, you were protecting your babies. Your motherly insticts kicked in. Any mother worth her salt would have done the same. Especially the two natured because it is so hard for us to conceive."