How A Baby Became My Life Coach

Self-love has always felt like this vague, elusive thing. Something everyone talks about but very few actually manage to do. I could give the pep talk, but living it? That was different. Looking in the mirror, I’d always find something to pick apart. Too much of this. Not enough of that. It didn’t matter that I had a happy upbringing or that I married a wonderful man. I still struggled to see what was good in me.

But then I became a mother. And everything shifted.

I don’t mean in the “perfect Instagram version of motherhood” kind of way. I mean in the messy, exhausting, 2 a.m. rocking-a-screaming-baby kind of way. Motherhood didn’t give me more time for self-love. Instead, it stripped me of time altogether. And strangely, that’s what made me learn how to love myself.

Here’s how:

1. My focus changed.

Before motherhood, I could waste hours spiralling in self-doubt. After motherhood? No chance. I was suddenly responsible for this tiny human who needed me more than anything. Even on days when I felt sick or drained, there was no opting out - I had to show up. And when every spare minute becomes precious, you stop wasting it on hating yourself. You learn to use your scraps of time well.

2. I realised little eyes were watching.

As my baby grew into a toddler, I noticed the way he copied me. The way he laughed when I laughed. The way he studied my expressions. It hit me: if I kept tearing myself down, one day he’d notice. And I couldn’t stand the thought of passing that on to him. So, I started small. I smiled at myself in the mirror, even when I didn’t feel like it. I leaned into being silly, messy, imperfect. And every time I laughed, he laughed too. That was reason enough to keep going.

3. I felt unconditional love in its purest form.

I’ve always struggled with eye contact. It makes me feel exposed, like people will see every anxious thought I’m trying to hide. But with my son, it’s different. When he looks into my eyes, I don’t feel judged. I feel seen. To him, I’m not “flawed.” I’m his whole world. His mother. His safe place. And when he looks at me that way, I finally believe I’m worth loving.

Motherhood didn’t make me perfect. It made me real. It taught me that loving myself isn’t optional; it’s necessary. Not just for me, but for him.

So, laugh freely, embrace the mess, let go of the small imperfections. Because the greatest lesson we can give our children is not just that they are loved, but that loving themselves is their birthright.

-       Christine Bernard