Marie* had expected her due date as the first day of the rest of her life.
The one who had always dreamed of being a mother was about to give birth to her first child, a boy.
As is customary, she and her husband had drawn up a list of their favorite first names, with, at the head of the line, the first name Maxandre, meaning in Latin “the greatest”.
But only three months before giving birth, her husband expresses doubts: “too original”, too “redneck”.
Instead, he opts for Valentin*: a simpler, more common first name.
For Marie, it's a cold shower.
The future mother hates this choice, but gives in for love.
She tells herself first that she will get used to it, that she will succeed in cherishing him.
But a few weeks after the birth, she harbors a deep disappointment.
A regret, which takes the form of a malaise erected like a wall between her and her child.
“I was so disappointed and upset, I was ashamed of his first name which did not correspond to me in any way.
It rots me…
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