Newsletter
Help us make a difference
I've always been uncertain about the desire to become a mother. I didn't particularly enjoy being around children, and people often told me: "With your own, it will be different."
In the end, I took the plunge, afraid that one day I would regret not having had children, but without total conviction. Over time, I've become increasingly convinced that, for most of us, having a child is an enormous leap into the unknown.
I experienced a calm and active pregnancy in a very lucid and rational way; I was happy, yes, but in a measured way. The birth was also quick, and my daughter was born perfectly healthy. Yet, the moment they placed her on my chest, my first thought was: "I can't wait for them to give me something to eat."
No wave of happiness, no sudden unconditional love. First warning sign for a mind like mine, which always runs at a thousand miles an hour.
As soon as I was back in the room with her, I felt lost. I spent three nights without sleep, wandering the corridors in tears. My milk didn't come in and I kept asking myself: "But hadn't they told me that women have been breastfeeding since the dawn of time?"
