From Maiden to Mother: My First Birth as a Rite of Passage

I look back on my first pregnancy now and realise I wasn’t just preparing to meet my baby... I was preparing to become someone entirely new.

Pregnancy has long been viewed as a physical journey, but for those who truly feel it, it’s a soul initiation. A death and rebirth. A crossing from maiden to mother.

When I first fell pregnant with Monty, I was filled with fear. I didn’t believe I had the strength to give birth. I thought I had a low pain threshold. I doubted my body. But somewhere along the way, a door cracked open - and through the gift of Hypnobirthing, I began to glimpse a different way. A way where birth didn’t have to be terrifying… where it could even be empowering.

My husband and I travelled all the way to Durham to take a Hypnobirthing course, there was nothing closer to us at the time in Northumberland, and it changed everything. I began to feel calm. Capable. Even excited. I prepared a birth plan, tuned into my baby, and started to imagine a birth on my terms.

But then came the diagnosis of Strep B - and with it, a slow erosion of my autonomy. I spent the rest of my pregnancy battling anxiety, not from fear of the condition itself, but from fear of losing my voice. Would I be “allowed” to birth how I wanted? Would I be listened to?

Labour began in the early hours with a gush of waters and regular, strong contractions. Because of the Strep B, I was told I needed to get to hospital quickly for IV antibiotics. So we drove the hour to NSECH in Cramlington, and I laboured in the car, listening to my Hypnobirthing tracks and disappearing inward.

I remember arriving and feeling like I was already in the thick of it. Contractions were strong and frequent, and I was shocked to hear I was only 1–2cm. The mountain ahead felt so steep.

But then something beautiful happened... the consultant team read my birth plan. And they respected it. They gave me the space I needed. My midwife supported me quietly and beautifully. I used gas and air, breathed deeply, and progressed peacefully through labour.

The pushing phase, though, was something else entirely.

When my midwife left for lunch, another replaced her, and the energy shifted. She couldn’t find my baby’s heartbeat. Panic. A small clip on his head, she said. Just to check.

Only later did I understand that clip was a scalp electrode - a small screw into my baby’s head that left a visible mark for years.

During pushing, I instinctively moved onto my knees, but I was made to lie on my back. I remember her eyes on me: “Do you not trust me?” she asked, when I pleaded to move. It was said with authority, and it worked. I stayed. I pushed like that - like a stranded turtle - for over an hour.

A room filled with strangers. A consultant’s eyes that made me feel like dirt. And yet… Monty was born. All 7lb 2 of him. He was here, and I was reborn.

But even then, the story wasn’t over.

He was taken from me an hour after birth, with whispers that he was “unwell”. He spent five days in NICU, only for someone to casually stroll in later and tell us to go home - he was absolutely fine.

At the time, I thought I’d had an amazing birth. And in many ways, I had. I was proud. I felt strong. I’d given birth without intervention.

But now, with distance and experience, I see more clearly. The subtle and not-so-subtle ways power was taken from me. The quiet trauma of being dismissed, overridden, and separated from my baby.

I didn’t have a bad birth. But I didn’t have a sacred one either.

What I was missing was reverent, aligned support. A wise woman beside me. Someone to protect the portal. My pregnancy had been treated as a medical event from the moment I called my GP to “book in.” It never occurred to me that I could opt out. That I could do things differently.

This birth taught me so much. About strength. About surrender. About how birth changes you. But also about how the system so often fails to honour the power of the process.

And that’s part of the reason why I do this work now. Because every woman deserves to feel held as she crosses that threshold. Not managed. Not controlled. Not made to feel small.

Your pregnancy is not just a countdown to birth. It’s a portal. A transformation. A rite of passage.

And it deserves to be honoured as such.

If this story stirred something in you — a memory, a longing, or even a quiet knowing that things could be different — you’re not alone.

Whether you’re planning your first birth or you're seeking to rewrite your story, I’m here to walk beside you.

💌 You’re so welcome to join our community circle at NE Bump Club or book a gentle, no-pressure chat about support for your birth journey here.

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Jessica Ord is an experienced, award-winning birth doula and hypnobirthing educator based in Northumberland, supporting home births and empowered pregnancy journeys across the North East.

Blending ancient wisdom with modern care, she offers holistic, heart-led support for women who want to feel confident, heard, and held throughout pregnancy, birth, and beyond.

From wild pregnancies to water births, she specialises in supporting you to trust your instincts, birth on your terms, and feel powerful doing it.

You can find out more about her pregnancy & birth support services here:

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