My mom was a bit of a witch—figuratively speaking, of course. You might want to ask my childhood friends, but let’s just say she had a flair for the superstitious. From tossing salt over her shoulder to mumbling the most bizarre warnings, she had her own unique take on fate. Rather than the usual fears of black cats and ladders, her warnings were more dire, like the danger of having babies with horns or ruining a wedding day simply by adding oregano to the sauce.
When my high school boyfriend gifted me pearl earrings for Christmas, she simply remarked, “Pearls mean tears.” That was it.
Okay, then.
To be fair, he was a bit of a jerk—her instinct to sniff out bad boys was far sharper than mine during my teenage years. Her comment has stuck with me, and I’ve never been a fan of pearls since. And wouldn’t you know it, that boy was responsible for a whole lot of tears. Maybe she was right after all.
There were other superstitions, too, that I followed without question. Never put your shoes on the table? I strictly adhere to that. Never open shower gifts with scissors? Try avoiding that one! And, never wear black while pregnant? I didn’t really consider that until I found myself at the San Gennaro feast in New York, heavily pregnant in a stunning black dress I had ordered from a catalog.
As I walked through the festival with colleagues, an elderly woman began gesturing at me from her food stand. Her expression was anything but friendly as she shook her head and pointed at me, muttering in Italian while making the sign of the cross. Yikes! I switched to the hot pink dress for the rest of my pregnancy and never told my mom. (Spoiler alert: the baby arrived horn-free).
It’s true; I know these quirky pieces of advice were passed down from her own mother. I vividly remember my grandmother warning me never to sleep on my left side because I’d crush my heart. Picture me, a little girl, waking up in a panic every time I found myself on that side.
For most of my life, I accepted these superstitions without much pushback. But as I grew older, I began to question some of them. My mom often claimed that odd-numbered years were cursed. When something unfortunate happened, she’d say, “Well, it is an odd year.” I finally pushed back with respect, pointing out that I got married in an odd year and all my kids were born in odd-numbered years, too.
She paused, thought for a moment, and conceded with a smile, “You’re right.” I can only imagine her thoughts, perhaps counting the blessings of having a daughter who defied the odds—and the color black for babies. Can you imagine her reaction if she were here to witness the chaos of 2020?
For more insights on home insemination and parenting, check out this post on our blog. If you’re exploring options for starting a family, resources like Make a Mom’s Baby Maker Kit and Wikipedia’s guide to In Vitro Fertilization can be invaluable.