In the attempt to create life with nothing but the hands of man, Victor Frankenstein unknowingly falls into the territory of motherhood. His greedy desire to summon life becomes a quiet echo of gestation, the long and draining wait disguised as a scientific ambition. Within the walls of his laboratory, he works in solitude and obsesses over his planned creation, the way a mother nurtures her unborn child: with sleepless nights, obsessive devotion, and the internal prayer that what finally emerges will be beautiful, perfect, and worthy. His “pregnancy” becomes a form of obsession and expectation, each moment eluding him into an ideal being he wishes to bring to life.

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However, as life enters the creature, the moment of birth is not one of vindication but a rupture. The creature’s first steps are not met with love, but with terror and shock. Victor immediately demands coherence, searching for any signs of intelligence, affection, or a sliver of validation for his devotion. The illusion soon collapses. What was imagined in the womb of his ambitions—obedience, intellect, human—dissipates before the reality of what stands before him. 

His fears quickly switch into rejection. He is unable to keep sight of his own creation. The emotional withdrawal is sudden and violent; it mirrors the parent who cannot bond with their newborn, who feels a vast emotional distance where instinct says closeness should be. His disappointment soon turns into resentment, where resentment festers into hatred. He is convinced that the creature is monstrous, not due to its actions, but because of the stark reflection of his own failure to feel his expectations. 

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In this unravelling, Victor embodies the darker forms of postpartum depression: the numbness, estrangement, and suffocating sense of inadequacy. Abandonment turns out to be the only relief he can take. Responsibility becomes an unbearable burden. The life he so desperately worked to create becomes the life he desperately wishes he had never summoned. His collapse is not merely scientific; it is maternal.

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The creature then functions as the neglected infant: seeking connection, yearning for guidance, shaped entirely by the absence of his creator. It's longing for warmth, language, and belonging and becomes an inverted mirror of Victor’s inability to provide them. Their tragedy is born not from initial hatred, but from a never-existing bond that was severed.

The story becomes not only a cautionary tale of ambition, but a haunting portrait of creation without connection, birth without acceptance, and a parent unravelled by the weight of life that he himself brought into the world. Victor Frankenstein’s collapse is with his heedlessness towards the responsibility of creation itself. His tragedy is of a failing parent rather than a scientist. It is not the creature who becomes monstrous, but the silence left when life enters the world and finds no love waiting for it.