My name is Séverine Moreau, and I’m from Lyon, France. I always imagined I would take to motherhood naturally. Pregnancy, birth, bonding—I thought it would all come easily. But when I became pregnant, I realized I wasn’t ready. My partner was excited, so I convinced myself the love would come once the baby arrived. But it didn’t. Not right away. And that terrified me.
My pregnancy was smooth, no complications. On the outside, everything looked perfect. But inside, I felt like a stranger in my own body. I went through the motions, said the right things, smiled for the photos. At night, I cried. I didn’t feel the deep connection everyone promised. I thought something was wrong with me.
When my son Théo was born, I waited for that overwhelming love to hit. But all I felt was numbness and exhaustion. I cared for him, but I felt like I was pretending to be his mother. I thought I had failed. I thought he could feel the distance.
The months that followed were the darkest of my life. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t focus. My mind was full of thoughts I didn’t want to admit. My partner tried to help, but I pushed him away. I believed I had to fix it myself. That if I faked it long enough, the feelings would come.
One night, when Théo was four months old, I broke down. I sat on the bathroom floor, unable to stop crying, and finally called my mother. I told her everything. She didn’t judge me. She said, “You’re not broken. You’re unwell. And we’re going to get you help.”
That moment changed everything. I started therapy with someone who specialized in postpartum depression. She told me what I was feeling was real, and not my fault. She explained that some mothers bond over time, and that’s okay. With therapy, medication, and support, things slowly began to shift.
When Théo was about seven months old, he laughed at something silly I did. And for the first time, I felt something real. Not fireworks, but a quiet, steady warmth. The bond began to grow in small, meaningful ways. His laugh. His sleepy sighs. The way he looked for me in a room. I started to fall in love with him.
Motherhood shattered who I thought I needed to be. It taught me to ask for help, to let go of perfection, to be honest. I’m not the mother I imagined, but I’m showing up. That counts for something. Even now, I work on forgiving myself for not feeling it sooner. But my therapist reminds me: he’s healthy, he’s loved, and we made it through.
If you’re struggling, please know you’re not alone. It’s okay to not feel the love right away. It’s okay to ask for help. The love will come. And when it does, it will be real, and it will be yours.Sending all my love, Séverine
@Séverine, thank you for being brave enough to share your journey — one that shows us that the bravest thing a mother can do is admit she is struggling, because that one honest moment can change everything.
