Maidenhood
The beginning of the end
When I went into labor last year, the surge of excitement I felt was welcome and expected. After two years of waiting, I was finally going to meet my baby. But what caught me off-guard was the grief. The beginning of labor, I realized, was the end of Maidenhood. Maiden is what shaped my perceptions of this world for the last 30 years, and I knew after this moment, I would never be Her again. A part of me wasn’t ready to let go.
In this full-forced transition to Mother, I’ve seen myself cling to Maiden. In my conversations with my therapist, I would mention my desires around wanting my time back, my body back, my work back only for her to remind me over and over again, that we don’t go back after we’ve crossed the threshold into Mother.
I tried to dance with both, only to realize that Maiden could no longer keep up with the beat. So she now sits on the sidelines, reminding me of who I was, and celebrating who I am becoming.
I feel like in Mother culture, sometimes Maiden can get a bad rep. She’s seen as naive, immature, and less grounded. Personally, I find her beautiful, even if she is imperfect. So I want to pay homage to her.
I began writing the piece below in the early months of motherhood but it took time for me to embody this shift and find the final words to complete it.
Enjoy,
Akansha
She gave herself so much space. Sleep. Slow mornings. Daydreaming with a kind of innocence and wonder.
She got to taste what the world has to offer — through travel, work, and relationships. Through feeling, creating, and sensing without attachment or pressing responsibility.
No other responsibility other than herself. And she took good care of herself. She learned to put herself first.
She gave herself time to unravel. To fall down and get back up on her own time.
She learned what kind of behaviors and relationships she will embrace and which ones she will no longer tolerate. She learned to get intimate with her desires.
Her body was hers and hers only.
She allowed herself to be held by others so she could learn how to hold herself.
She was able to learn and feel self-love. Her own warmth. Her own soothing presence. All for her.
She was imperfect. She was messy. She made many mistakes. And I love her for that.
I miss her, and I feel at peace that I am no longer with her.
I feel ready to close her chapter.
Goodbye, my dear Maiden.
And…
Thank you. thank you. thank you.