The nursery was a whirlwind of pastel colors, soft toys, and a faint aroma of baby lotion mixed with warm milk. Libby sat on the floor, legs crossed, staring at the tiny bundle in front of her. Nova, her niece, had just turned three months old and had already developed a reputation in the family for being charming, clever, and stubborn—all at once. Today, Libby had come armed with determination and patience, ready to tackle the challenge she had been dreading: teaching Nova to love breastfeeding.
Libby had always imagined this moment differently. She pictured herself bonding with her niece, holding her close, and feeling the warmth and trust that came with each feed. She had read the books, followed every expert tip, and even whispered encouraging words to herself before starting. But as she glanced at Nova, who was happily sucking on the bottle her aunt had handed over just yesterday, Libby’s resolve wavered.
“Auntie!” Libby exclaimed, half-laughing, half-exasperated. “I can’t believe you! Nova’s already used to the bottle! You ruined everything!”
Auntie, sitting comfortably on the nearby armchair, gave Libby a calm, slightly amused look. She had anticipated this reaction. “Libby,” she said gently, “I didn’t ruin anything. I was just trying to help. Nova was hungry, crying, and couldn’t wait. I gave her a little milk, and she was fine. That’s all.”
“Fine? Fine?” Libby threw her hands up in dramatic despair. “You’ve wasted weeks of my preparation! Weeks! I was ready to bond, to establish this routine, and now she refuses me completely. Look at her! She’s happily sucking that bottle like it’s the greatest thing in the world. You’ve ruined my plan!”
Auntie chuckled softly, rocking Nova gently in her arms. “Libby, calm down. She’s just a baby. She doesn’t understand plans or strategy. She’s learning, exploring, and yes, sometimes she finds comfort in the bottle. But that doesn’t mean you can’t still bond with her.”
Libby groaned, flopping onto the soft nursery rug. “Bond? Bonding is hard when she’s already spoiled by the bottle! I can see it in her eyes. That little smile she gives me—it’s not the same. It’s tainted by Auntie’s milk delivery system!”
Nova, oblivious to the dramatic conversation, looked up at her aunt, eyes bright and curious. She gurgled, cooed, and gave a little kick of her legs, as if to say, I’m happy, and you’re overthinking this, Libby. Auntie laughed softly, leaning down to kiss the baby’s forehead. “See? She’s content. That’s all that matters right now.”
But Libby was not so easily convinced. She crawled closer, picking up the bottle carefully, trying to offer it herself. “See, Nova? This is mine now. This is how we do it. Not Auntie’s fancy delivery system!”
Nova paused for a split second, glanced at Libby, then shrugged in the only way a tiny baby could. And in a blink, she went right back to enjoying her bottle, ignoring Libby completely. Libby sighed dramatically. “I can’t compete with perfection,” she muttered.
Auntie tilted her head, smiling knowingly. “Libby, you’re putting too much pressure on yourself. You think you’ve lost this battle, but bonding isn’t just about the first feeds. It’s about touch, comfort, play, and patience. Nova is learning to trust all of us. You’ll find your rhythm.”
Libby rolled her eyes, though a tiny part of her knew her aunt was right. “You make it sound so easy! You’ve always been the calm one. Me? I’m dramatic, impatient, and way too invested in rules. Rules like… babies should always choose me, naturally, lovingly, without hesitation!”
Auntie laughed. “Libby, babies don’t follow rules. They follow instincts, comfort, and curiosity. You’re not competing with me—you’re both part of her world.”
Libby looked at Nova again, tiny fingers clutching the bottle, and her heart softened. Yes, Auntie had gotten her used to the bottle. But she also noticed the way Nova looked up at her now, eyes wide with curiosity and trust. Maybe the bond wasn’t ruined after all. Maybe she just needed to adjust her expectations.
Still, her pride wouldn’t let her admit it fully. “Fine,” she said grudgingly. “Maybe I’ll wait my turn. But I swear, Nova, one day, you’re going to realize I’m the best at this. You’ll remember who helped you laugh, who held you when you cried, and who stayed dramatic just to make the moment fun!”
Nova responded with a small gurgle and a tiny wiggle, as if she understood every word. Auntie shook her head, laughing. “You’ll get there, Libby. Just relax. Let her set the pace. And maybe enjoy the process—dramatic or not.”
Libby took a deep breath and sat down on the floor beside the bassinet. She watched Nova for a few moments, observing the way the baby’s tiny lips moved, the rhythm of her suckling, the little kicks of her legs. “Okay,” Libby admitted quietly, “maybe it’s not the end of the world. Maybe Auntie’s help wasn’t the enemy.”
Auntie nodded, smiling. “Exactly. Babies are resilient, and so are you. You’ll figure out your own ways to bond. There’s no single correct path.”
Encouraged, Libby reached out and gently stroked Nova’s tiny hand. “Alright,” she whispered, “we’ll start with the hand-holding method. That’s my secret technique. Guaranteed to win a baby’s heart.” Nova, as if on cue, paused mid-suckle to gaze up at Libby’s face. She didn’t protest. She didn’t turn away. She simply accepted the gentle touch, and Libby felt a tiny surge of victory.
Auntie chuckled softly. “See? Small victories. That’s how it starts.”
Libby grinned, feeling a spark of hope. “Okay, fine. Maybe she’s not entirely ruined by your bottle trick. But mark my words, Auntie—Nova and I are going to have epic bonding sessions. You just wait and see. Today, it’s your turn. Tomorrow, she’s all mine!”
Auntie shook her head, laughing again. “Fair enough, Libby. But for now, let’s just enjoy her happiness.”
Nova, oblivious to all the familial theatrics, gave a tiny yawn and snuggled against her aunt, the bottle still gently held in her hands. Libby watched quietly, realizing that the real victory wasn’t about controlling the feed or winning a competition. The real victory was simply being present, sharing moments, and slowly building trust and love—one tiny interaction at a time.
Libby leaned back, smiling to herself. “Maybe Auntie didn’t ruin everything. Maybe she just… helped me see the bigger picture. Nova’s happiness is what matters most.”
Auntie glanced at her, knowingly. “Exactly. And don’t worry, Libby. There’s plenty of time for epic bonding sessions. You’ll get your moments. Just remember—patience, gentle touch, and a little bit of drama never hurt anyone.”
Libby laughed softly. “Fine, I’ll allow the drama. But only because she’s so cute.” She leaned forward and gave Nova a soft kiss on her tiny forehead, feeling the warmth of the baby against her cheek. Nova’s small fingers curled around hers, and for the first time that morning, Libby felt completely victorious. The battle over the bottle might have been “lost,” but the love, connection, and laughter? That was hers—and nothing could ruin it.
And so, the nursery filled with quiet laughter, gentle coos, and the unmistakable sense of family. Libby had learned a lesson she would carry for years: sometimes, Auntie’s shortcuts aren’t the enemy—they’re just part of the journey. And even if the bottle comes first, love always finds a way.
