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Every mother in this text makes significant sacrifices in her own life that result directly from her identity as a mother or her desire to be one. Blair opted to give up her career, finding no emotional room for anything other than motherhood; it was a joyful choice. However, this decision resulted in a kind of social demotion, as she struggles to relate to working mothers: “She was supposed to want it all. And have it all. She wasn’t supposed to let motherhood yank her away” (27). Blair also envies the Loverlys’ marriage, witnessing a closeness that is long gone from hers, the loss of which Blair associates with motherhood. Becoming a mother changed Blair’s body in ways she fears have made her less desirable; it also demands much of her attention, and while Blair enjoys the role, the fact that Aiden doesn’t express gratitude for all Blair does deepens her resentment and the schism in their marriage. However, Blair has become so used to sacrifice that even her anxieties that her life is small and unimportant become a casualty of it. Rather than discuss her “miser[y]” or even acknowledge it fully to herself, she tamps it down because she thinks this is “beneficial for everyone” (14). This solves nothing and in fact exacerbates the problem.
Whitney, on the other hand, hated being pregnant and allowed work to distract her from her children almost as soon as they were born. She didn’t even want children until her friends had children and began to act superior, so the mere fact of having children impinges on Whitney’s ideal life—one in which she is confident and in control. Whitney’s job provides her with this assurance, but motherhood does not; she knows, for instance, that her home “run[s] more smoothly when she isn’t there” (85), and this makes her insecure. This culminates in Whitney’s literal loss of control with Xavier, which shatters her perfect image and leads to her humiliation and self-doubt.
Mara’s devotion to her son led her to sacrifice her marriage. Mara loved Albert until he disappointed her as a father, and she could never forgive him for that. Motherhood therefore supplanted intimacy when Mara chose her son over her husband. In the process, it compelled Mara to hide her feelings: She stopped looking Albert in the eye for fear he would see the truth and lied about how being a mother made her feel, never revealing the pain it caused, to protect Marcus. She began to feel “invisible,” having sacrificed other parts of her identity to the routines of motherhood and marriage; in the present, she therefore interferes in others’ lives to regain an independent sense of self.
Even women who are not mothers find themselves defined by it in ways that erode their sense of identity and self-esteem. Rebecca’s longing for children and her inability to sustain a pregnancy “consume” her, causing her to feel like a failure despite her success as a children’s doctor. She feels that her body is a “machine” and that it is “broken”; though she was uncertain whether she even wanted children prior to her relationship with Ben, the thought of motherhood so totally eclipses other concerns that it transforms her relationship to her body and life, both of which come to feel incomplete. She even sacrifices her honesty when she lies to her husband about her latest pregnancy, compromising their relationship and her own identity as a person of integrity.
Language of consumption and invisibility bolsters this theme. Through their sacrifices, each of the female characters becomes smaller, compelled to relinquish control of something in her life.
Several characters maintain a willful ignorance of their partners’ shortcomings, and while this ignorance gives them a feeling of control, the control is illusory and temporary at best. The “whispers” Blair thinks of when she considers her suspicions of Aiden are her intuition, the part of herself that voices what she may not consciously want to accept. However, Blair does her best to ignore her intuition because the alternative, knowing for certain that her husband is humiliating her and cheapening her life with his affairs, is too painful. She tries to chalk up her suspicion to “paranoia” or having “[t]oo much time on her hands” (15). When she lies to herself this way, she feels in control rather than someone to be pitied. However, she also loses her intuition, which works like a muscle; by the end of the novel, she believes that she was “convincing herself” of her husband’s infidelity rather than the reverse. What’s more, she teaches her daughter to rely similarly on denial, setting her up for unhappy relationships.
Likewise, Jacob Loverly retains a willful ignorance of his wife’s affairs as well as her verbal abuse of their oldest child, Xavier. To acknowledge how truly “monstrous[ly]” she behaves toward Xavier, Jacob would have to accept that part of Whitney, something he is unwilling to do. He never directly confronts her about his suspicions. When faced with evidence of a possible affair, he only brings that evidence to Whitney’s attention, giving her the chance to lie. When he doesn’t believe the lie, he won’t say so; he simply leaves that evidence of her infidelity for her to see. He responds similarly to the crisis involving Xavier. He clearly has his own “whispers” about what happened to Xavier because he is desperate to control the narrative: quizzing Mara, trying to enlist Rebecca’s help, and manipulating Blair to defend Whitney. However, he never confronts Whitney with his suspicions because he does not really want to know the truth; he wants to hide it from himself and everyone else. The benefit of his willful ignorance is that it allows Jacob to keep his life and family intact; it is an affluent life with children he adores and a wife who looks perfect. The drawback is that it allows the deception to grow between himself and Whitney, eventually leading to the near-death of one of his children.
The text’s female characters find themselves in competition with other women as they seek to reaffirm their choices and validate their identities. Blair and Whitney in particular constantly compare themselves, and the contrast emotionally benefits both at times; Whitney feels superior to Blair because Blair envies Whitney’s marriage, and Blair feels like a better mother than Whitney. However, this rivalry undercuts the possibility of the more durable emotional benefits a friendship would entail. Though the women go through the motions of supporting one another, their competitive posture colors how they experience these gestures. For example, when Whitney learns that Blair is coming to the hospital to be with her, “nothing about [hearing Blair’s name] feels good” (120). Each thinks of the other as her “best friend,” and yet each secretly enjoys it when she has the upper hand or sees the other struggle.
The competition extends beyond that found between mothers. Blair denigrates Rebecca’s ability to empathize with Mara because Rebecca doesn’t have children, and Blair feels superior to the young woman at the birthday party for the same reason. Likewise, Mara judges both Whitney and Blair, criticizing their attitudes, appearances, and priorities. Rebecca resists the urge to criticize mothers whose children are injured in their care, though she judges Blair and Whitney for their comments about Mara.
What is most notable about the criticisms the women level at one another is that they replicate sexist societal expectations: that women’s primary role should be to mother children, or to appeal sexually to men, or to act as moral guardians. Social pressures to be the “perfect” wife and mother make these women feel like failures, and this feeling prompts them to judge other women harshly to make themselves feel better. The irony is that the very thing that unites the women thus ends up dividing them due to internalized misogyny. In this context, friendships between women, like Whitney and Blair’s, are perhaps more damaging than they are supportive.