From Maiden To Mother

"There is a phase in labour, appropriately called transition, where a woman will meet her breaking point. She'll feel as though she just can't go on, and she is right. The maiden in her is not strong enough for the task at hand. It's during this time the maiden dies so that the woman can be reborn as a mother, with her child. A new, more capable version of herself with far more strength than she has ever known. From Maiden to Mother."

Nothing prepares you for the shift that happens when you go from Maiden to Mother. It’s not like the movies, where the music swells and everything falls into place. It’s not even like the books, where you get a neat, poetic ending that ties up all the loose ends. The transition is more subtle, more sacred, more... messy.

I think it’s important, too, to recognize that this transition is not confined to labour. It sneaks up on you in moments you don’t expect—somewhere between the first flutter in your belly and the last glance at your unrecognizable reflection in the mirror. One day, you wake up and realize you’ve crossed a threshold. You’re no longer the girl who used to roam freely, untethered, thinking only of herself. You’ve become something more. Something stronger, deeper, softer.

You’ve become someone’s mother.

But I don't think the maiden dies entirely.

No, she’s still there. She lingers in the shadows, in the little pieces of yourself that peek through when the baby is sleeping, and the world is quiet. She’s there in the way you still dream, the way you still crave adventure, the way your heart still longs for something more, even though it’s already so full.

Motherhood is a love story, but not just for your child. It’s a love story for yourself.

It’s learning to hold space for the girl you used to be while embracing the woman you’ve become. It’s allowing both to coexist without guilt or regret. It’s giving yourself grace in the moments when you feel like you’ve lost something, only to realize you’ve gained so much more.

There’s a rawness to this journey that no one can really prepare you for. They tell you about the joy, the love that will consume you, the way your heart will break open in the best way.

But they don’t tell you about the mourning.

The mourning of your maidenhood. The way you’ll miss the freedom, the carelessness, the lightness of being that came with only thinking of yourself. You’ll miss it in ways that feel both selfish and completely natural.

And that’s okay.

It’s okay to mourn the girl you were before you became a mother. It’s okay to miss the parts of yourself that felt weightless, unburdened by the responsibility of carrying another life.

But it’s also okay to love the woman you’re becoming—the one who knows what it means to love so fiercely, to give so selflessly, to sacrifice in ways that you never knew you could.

The transition from maiden to mother is a beautiful journey. It’s like being born again, but this time, with your eyes wide open. You see the world differently, through a lens of protection, love, and purpose. You no longer wander through life aimlessly; now, every step you take is anchored by the tiny hand that reaches for yours.

The Maiden is cheering you on.

She’ll always be there, buried beneath the layers of motherhood, cheering you on...waiting for you to call her forward. She’s the part of you that dances barefoot in the kitchen, who loves to sing her heart out in the shower. She’s the part of you that reminds you that while you may have gained a new identity, you haven’t lost the essence of who you are.

There are days when I feel the maiden in me stir, the part of me that craves adventure and spontaneity. She’s the one who pulls me out the door to laugh until my stomach hurts, to dance barefoot under the stars, to create just for the joy of it. She knows how to turn a quiet evening into an adventure, how to pull laughter from the depths, and how to make me feel light in a world that sometimes feels so heavy. She’s my reminder that life doesn’t always have to be serious, that laughter is just as healing as any quiet moment of reflection.

And then, there are other days—the days that test me, where I need more than lightness and laughter. When the road feels long, and every step feels heavy, I call on the mother in me. She is my anchor, my courage. She’s the part of me that knows how to hold steady, to lead with strength and purpose. She shows up in those moments when I need to be brave, to push forward even when I feel like giving up. She’s there to protect, to nurture, to carry on, no matter what life brings.

The maiden’s dreams and the mother’s resilience don’t compete; they complete each other. Together, they allow me to love and lead with my whole heart.

Motherhood is not the end of your story.

It’s the beginning of a new chapter. One where you learn to weave together the girl you were and the mother you’ve become. One where you realize that you can hold space for both—the maiden and the mother—without having to choose between them.

It’s about finding balance. It’s about recognizing that becoming a Mother doesn’t mean you stop being a woman, a dreamer, a creator. You are still all those things, only now, you do them with a heart that beats for someone else.

So here’s to the transition —from Maiden to Mother. The messy middle where we learn  to embrace the beauty of both, and realizing that you don’t have to leave one behind to become the other.

Because the truth is, you are both.

You always will be.

Payton x