by theroamincatholic

Question by Jessica: Do pregnancy symptoms start after your missed period or after ovulation?
So my period is due on the sixteenth. I had sex a week ago, and my breasts started feeling really tender about a day or two after. I’ve read online that pregnancy symptoms start after ovulation, not after your missed period, so is it possible that I’m pregnant? Or are these symptoms just due to my period? And please only answers from people who know what they’re talking about, I would really appreciate input!

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~day 321: some motherly advice~


Image by theroamincatholic
When I find myself in times of trouble/
Mother Mary comes to me/
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

And in my hour of darkness/
She is standing right in front of me/
Speaking words of wisdom, let it be

Has anyone else out there ever been surprised when your mom gave you some advice, and it actually turned out that she really did know what was best for you???

I certainly have been. The occurence has been rare in my life, since most of the time, my mother and I are enjoying our differences, rather than our similarities, just trying to keep getting to know each other and accepting one another in love.

But once in awhile, my mother knows just what I need, like no one else does, and this is an especially pertinent revelation for me, as I become a mother myself.

Lately I’ve been experiencing one of the typical symptoms of mid-pregnancy: terrible and very vivid nightmares. I’m plagued by these every night, so much so that I end up avoiding sleep purposely. Dreams like these are a subconscious way of dealing with anxieties revolving around pregnancy, motherhood, and the big life changes that creating a new family entails. A new mother’s need is to protect the relationships that are important to her, to foster a home where Nazareth-like love and simplicity dwells, and to feel that her child is ‘cloistered’ within her. These fundamental desires can often seem difficult to accomplish as the mother deals with her own fears and anxieties, questioning whether she can deal with certain negative influences in her life, how she can protect her family from them, or whether the way she was raised will directly influence her style of parenting. We all emulate what our parents did well, but we also react against the things we felt hurt by—and this usually results in another, albeit novel, parenting mistake being made.

A mind racing with anxious thoughts like these isn’t a peaceful one. Sometimes Mary’s motherhood seems so far off, so difficult to attain as a pattern of life for ourselves. Then my mom stepped in with some advice.

‘How about some rosary prayer before you go to sleep?’

You might think this is run-of-the-mill advice from your typical Catholic mom. But that’s just it. My mom isn’t Catholic. My mom is Methodist, raised by a Southern Baptist mother and grandparents, and she even went through a long period of agnosticism while I was growing up. Praying the rosary is not the first suggestion I’d expect to come from her.

But this is where true motherhood is at its best. As my mom has watched me progress through the pregnancy, she has observed how healing and transformative a simple prayer like ‘Hail Mary’ can be. The ‘Hail Mary’ is fundamentally Christological, but in a way that the Our Father can never be. ‘Hail Mary’ allows us to fully realize Christ’s humanity, as well as our own; Hail Mary reminds us that Mary, who is small and simple with us, is also clothed in radiance—not by her own brilliance, but by God’s love, a love that is no less available to us. As new mothers, there’s something we can appreciate about that moment when the angel approaches Mary and greets her, announcing the great thing that will be done to her. We can understand something of that, because in some small way, it has happened to us, too.

Now my husband recites a decade of the rosary with me each night before the lights are turned out. Since beginning this practice, my nights may not have been totally nightmare-free, but they are certainly more peaceful and restful. There is something reassuring to a mother in knowing that she is also a child—especially a child of Mary.

As a convert, I often find myself stuttering over terms like ‘the Blessed Virgin’ and ‘Our Lady.’ I know these are good names for Mary, but they don’t feel quite like home for me. For me, the simplest way to address Mary is ‘mother.’ This is not part of a formula, it’s the word that instinctively leaves my lips in those moments of smallness, of anxiety, of humanity. After all, you can call Mary ‘Queen,’ ‘Blessed Lady’, ‘Holy Virgin,’ and you can certainly name her ‘Theotokos’ (the most astute theological pronunciation). But in her essence, she’s ‘mommy,’ and the experience of being able to call her, the mother of Jesus, this—is a simple but rooted experience of the love of God.

I’ve never stopped calling my mom ‘Mommy,’ and any mother will probably tell you—that beyond being called blessed, holy, or any other sanctified epithet, to be called ‘mommy’ is most exalted of all.