When I was pregnant with my first child, I often found myself wondering about Mother Mary’s early days of pregnancy. I imagined her walking through the busy streets of Nazareth, her growing belly hidden beneath her baggy dresses. Did she try to hide her pregnancy at first, or was she open about it from the beginning? I could picture her grappling with morning sickness, claiming it was food poisoning to avoid any questioning. Did she keep her pregnancy a secret, sharing the miraculous news only with those closest to her, like Joseph and Elizabeth?
Mary’s predicament was unique. As described in the Gospel of Luke, the angel Gabriel appeared to her and announced, "Do not be afraid, Mary; you have found favor with God. You will conceive and give birth to a son, and you are to call him Jesus" (Luke 1:30-31). This divine announcement must have been both exhilarating and terrifying. I know the feeling those two little pink lines hold when I saw them for the first time. It makes your heart race and you are filled with so many emotions at once. Pure happiness from the thought of a new baby, panic wondering if you can actually raise another human, anxiety about pregnancy and labor, grief around leaving an old life behind. Mary didn’t have two pink lines to sit on the bathroom floor with and laugh or cry or let out her emotions however she needed to, she had an angel come down and bring the news, I’m sure her emotions were extra heightened, I can’t even imagine. How did she explain to others that her pregnancy was not an accident but a divine intervention? In a tight-knit community like Nazareth, where everyone knew each other’s business, it’s easy to imagine the gossip and suspicion she faced. Whispers of “Who does she think she is trying to fool?” probably circulated among the “mom groups” at the well and in the marketplace.
Despite the potential for judgment and misunderstanding, Mary knew her truth. She held onto the angel's words and her unwavering faith in God's plan. Yet, as a young, expectant mother, did she experience anxiety and fear? Did she wonder if she would face any complications, or did she hope God might grant her an easy pregnancy because she was carrying His son? The Bible does not detail these aspects, but it’s comforting to think she might have experienced the same worries and physical challenges that many mothers face. Did she have morning sickness or struggle with the discomforts of late pregnancy? The arduous journey to Bethlehem on a donkey, heavily pregnant, must have been incredibly taxing. It’s no surprise she went into labor that night.
The practicalities of pregnancy also come to mind. Did Mary have cravings for foods that were the biblical equivalent of pickles and ice cream? What kind of advice did she receive from the older women in her community? When she shared the name God had chosen for her child, "Jesus," meaning "The Lord saves" (Matthew 1:21), how did people react? Perhaps some advised her against it, fearing the name would bring unnecessary attention or ridicule.
During my own pregnancies, I decided to keep the news private. Only my close friends and family knew; I avoided sharing the journey on social media. I didn’t want unsolicited advice about baby names, products, or the countless “just you wait” comments that often flood a pregnant woman’s world. Keeping my pregnancies private made the experience special for my husband and me, but I also felt a pang of isolation. The mommy blogs and online world buzzed with shared experiences that I hesitated to join. Reflecting on Mary’s experience made me feel like I had her in my company.
Pregnancy and motherhood are profoundly personal and unique experiences. Every mother feels that her journey is singular and often misunderstood by others. Yet, paradoxically, it’s one of the only universal experiences that connects women across time and space. Thinking about Mary during my pregnancies, I realized that while the circumstances of her pregnancy were extraordinary, the emotions, challenges, and joys she faced were profoundly human. Her story reminds us that every mother, whether carrying the Son of God or a child of her own, navigates a world where the boundaries of fantasy and reality blur, where the emotional and biological spheres of life are deeply intertwined.
Now that I have a toddler and a newborn, I often find myself contemplating Mary’s experience as a mother. Although Jesus was divine and perfect in His heavenly mission, He was also human, growing up with human parents and navigating the typical parent-child dynamics. One story that stands out is the wedding at Cana, where Jesus turned water into wine (John 2:1-11). In this moment, Mary approached Jesus about the wine shortage, a concern any mother can relate to. When Jesus initially responded, "Woman, why do you involve me? My hour has not yet come" (John 2:4), I imagine Mary giving Him the classic “mom look” that communicates more than words ever could. Every mother knows this look—a mix of expectation and authority, and in her head thinking, “I know you didn’t just say that to me, want to try again?”
We often hear "Jesus was perfect" from our earliest Sunday school days, but what does that perfection truly mean in the context of human life? Jesus was perfect in His obedience to God, yet He also had to navigate the daily realities of family life. This duality can seem contradictory. For instance, how did He balance the divine calling with everyday responsibilities, like leaving a bible study and coming home for dinner when His mother called? The Bible provides a glimpse of this dynamic when Jesus, at twelve years old, stayed behind in the temple, causing Mary and Joseph great anxiety (Luke 2:41-50). When they found Him, His response was, "Didn’t you know I had to be in my Father’s house?" (Luke 2:49). Despite this, He returned to Nazareth with them and was obedient, highlighting the balance He maintained between His divine mission and His role as Mary's son.
As a mother, parenting often involves managing your own emotions and reactions more than those of the child. On long, overstimulating days, I sometimes need to send my daughter to her room or step away myself—not because of her small misbehavior, but because I need to calm down and process my feelings to avoid overreacting and regretting it. Mary must have had similar moments. Imagine a day where Jesus, in His human nature, spilled lentil soup on the floor right after Mary finished sweeping after dinner. How did she handle those little frustrations? Did she ever feel overwhelmed by the ordinary challenges of motherhood? It must have been complicated knowing she was tasks with raising the Son of God while also being the son of Mary.
We can only speculate about Mary’s everyday life, but these reflections bring her story closer to our own experiences. It's likely she faced criticism and skepticism from those around her. As Jesus grew older, there must have been moments when His actions did not align with societal expectations. Did people judge Mary, questioning her parenting whenever Jesus did something unconventional or radical, like when He cleansed the temple (John 2:13-17)?
Raising Jesus, Mary must have felt the weight of nurturing a child who was both divine and human. Sending Him to school, did she explain to the teachers that He was “different” or “special”? Did they roll their eyes, as teachers often do when parents believe their child is unique? The Gospel tells us that Mary pondered many things in her heart (Luke 2:19), suggesting she spent much time reflecting on the profound and ordinary aspects of raising Jesus.
As a young mother myself, I empathize with Mary’s burden of proving herself while nurturing her extraordinary child under the scrutiny of a skeptical society. Balancing divine purpose and everyday motherhood, she exemplifies a strength and grace that resonates deeply with modern mothers. Her story reminds us that even the mother of the Messiah faced the same doubts, fears, and challenges that we do, making her a profound source of inspiration and comfort.
My children are still small, but the bond I share with them is indescribable. Even though I’ve only had a few years with them, it feels like they have always been a part of me. I genuinely cannot remember a time before they existed or what my life was like without them. Those days seem so distant and far away, almost as if they belonged to another life. I know I was born to be their mother and that God chose them specifically to be my children. Together, we fit perfectly, like pieces of a puzzle. They teach me patience, humility, and truly unconditional love. In turn, I teach them about the world, guiding them through its wonders and challenges.
Mary must have felt the same bond with Jesus as all mothers do with their children, but I can only imagine it was even deeper and more profound. She bonded with Him for thirty years before His crucifixion, experiencing the entire spectrum of motherhood. From the miraculous conception, feeling His first kicks during pregnancy, the pain and joy of childbirth, to the everyday moments of watching Him grow, learn, and fulfill His divine purpose.
The thought of losing one of my children before my own passing is something I can’t even begin to fathom. The mere idea brings a lump to my throat. The bond between a mother and her child is so strong, so fundamental, that the loss would leave an unimaginable void. Mary’s grief must have been overwhelming. She had nurtured Jesus from infancy, watched Him grow into a man, and seen Him perform miracles and spread His message of love and redemption. She must have felt immense pride, knowing He was fulfilling God’s plan, but also deep sorrow, knowing the pain and sacrifice that awaited Him.
Mary stood by Jesus during His ministry, supporting Him even when others doubted. She witnessed His suffering and crucifixion, an agony that pierced her soul. As the prophecy of Simeon had foretold when Jesus was just an infant, “a sword will pierce your own soul too” (Luke 2:35). Hers was a journey that encompassed the highest joys and deepest sorrows of motherhood.
As a mother, I empathize deeply with Mary’s suffering. Myself, and every other mother on Earth, can connect with the pain of losing a child. Mary's story is not just a divine narrative; it’s a profoundly human one. It reminds us of the incredible strength and resilience mothers possess. Her faith and courage in the face of such loss offer a powerful example for all of us. We may not face the exact trials she did, but we share the same capacity for love, sacrifice, and endurance.
In contemplating Mary’s journey, I find comfort and inspiration. Her life, filled with both extraordinary and ordinary moments, mirrors the experiences of mothers everywhere. It shows that even in the most difficult times, our love for our children and our faith can sustain us. Mary’s story is a testament to the enduring power of a mother’s love, a love that transcends time and circumstance, binding us together in a shared understanding of what it means to be a mother.