The Hand That Rocks

February Blog 2026 *warning spoilers for the book and the movie Rosemary's Baby

When I think of Rosemary’s Baby, one of the first things that comes to mind is the lullaby in the opening credits. It is also known as “Sleep Safe and Warm,” composed by Krzysztof Komeda. And it’s the movie mother’s own voice, Mia Farrow, heard over the haunting sounds of piano and harpsichord. Sometimes I find myself humming this song aloud, having what I call a Rosemary’s Baby day and half the time, if there’s time, I may sit down and watch the movie. It’s my comfort horror movie. You know you try to tell people that those of us who watch horror movies, read, or in some cases, write horror stories are just like everybody else. But the older I get; I have to admit that isn’t true. We are … different.

Not everyone gives birth, but everyone has a mother. Enter Rosemary. Even though the way she gets pregnant (I will definitely be touching on that later in future blogs!) is unconventional to say the least, she is still excited to be pregnant. She marks the days on the calendar and begins to decorate the nursery in yellow (the yellow—I’ll delve into that too!) She plans. She nests. I myself became pregnant in an unconventional manner and my twins were planned for and much wanted. I had a special lullaby picked out. I bought a cd and practiced learning the words to a song from Disney’s Lady and the Tramp. My song of choice was “La La Lu” composed by Peggy Lee and Sonny Burke.

Then, things take a turn in the story. Rosemary fears for her unborn baby’s life, promising to protect little Andy or Jenny. And she tries. She is confronted by others though, mostly men, who gas light her or don’t believe her. She is less than. She is a vessel, her body separate from her soul. Poor Rosemary is really in the dark. Whereas she is convinced that the witches (all of them witches) want to kill her baby and use it in a ritual, she is way, way off. Rosemary is told the baby died, but still, she produces milk, because that’s what a woman’s body does. And she hears crying. Sometimes women lactate when they hear a baby crying (the more you  know.) She is drawn towards the baby. She knows her baby is alive. And even when she finds out what is really going on, we see Rosemary, standing in her blue housecoat and slippers, gently rocking a bassinet swathed in black fabric. If you know, you know.

Now, I believe one, that there is a connection like no other between a mother and her child. To have life grow inside of you, it’s just incomparable to any other experience. It is an acceptable way for this movie to end. Two, I think for the time, the late 60s, it is a more believable ending than if the movie were made today. Today, we may see the woman making a choice to put her needs and her life above the baby’s and chose not to mother the child. Today, we may see the woman killing the child so that, okay I’m just going to put it out there, Satan’s incarnation won’t reign supreme. There seem to be a lot of movies out now about how horrible being a mother is, which is telling and sad at the same time but as you probably know, art reflects the time in which it is created. It is interesting that this story was written by a man (also a subject for another day) and perhaps that’s why it ended the way it did. The assumption of a man that the woman would have no other choice but to submit and engage.

Here, in the February blog, I’ve brought you to the end of the movie, but … it’s only the beginning of the discussion.