Chapter 29 ('28') Summary and Analysis
⚠️ Spoiler Warning: This guide contains detailed spoilers for the entire novel. Proceed only if you've finished reading or are comfortable knowing the plot.
Summary
The chapter opens with a memory from a summer when Jamie was six years old and Willa was not yet three. The family is on their annual Cape week, and one night, in the loft bed with the children asleep between them, Nick suggests, “We could try again.” The narrator is already crying. She feels like a “gaping wound” and describes an aching love for her children so intense that she wishes she could stuff them back inside herself to keep them safe.
It has been a year since her miscarriage, and she has been trapped on what she calls the “conception roller coaster.” She describes the cycle: the rickety hope of ovulation, the anxious wait for the testing period, and then the crushing “Not pregnant!” that sends her into a stomach-churning descent of despair, only to start climbing again immediately. She admits she originally wanted only two kids, but hormones have made her feel like a hypnotized zombie, chanting “More children!”
She contrasts her situation with that of friends who endured endless, excruciating rounds of IVF—some successful, some not—and a cousin whose early pregnancy was interrupted by a cancer diagnosis and hysterectomy. These women desperately wanted even one baby, while she already had two. She knows she is lucky by any standard, but she also feels that pregnancy loss is both the hook she hangs her unhappiness on and the unhappiness itself. She describes herself as a “human layer cake of grief and guilt, thickly frosted with shame.”
The narrator recalls taking many pregnancy tests, half of them in Target bathrooms with her children crammed into the stall with her, wearing winter coats. She would squint at the test window, hallucinating positive results, seeing faint lines that weren’t there, or confusing shadows for a second line. She would try to trick the test by looking away and then suddenly back, but always nothing. Her children would call out, “Mama! Mama! We’re hot. Willa’s hungry.” She would tell them, “One minute,” but she admits that her desire for another baby obliterated her attention to the ones she already had. She pictures her greedy, irrational heart on its knees on the tile floor, head in its hands.
Finally, she tells Nick, “I can’t. Not again.” And they don’t try again. But the grief remains, described as a silver locket with two faces inside—she doesn’t know what the faces look like—but it is heavy around her neck, and she never takes it off.
Key Events
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Nick suggests trying for another baby during the family’s Cape week, with the children asleep in the loft bed.
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The narrator, crying, says she can’t keep going through the process.
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She reflects on the year since her miscarriage, describing the emotional cycle of ovulation tracking, pregnancy testing, and disappointment.
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She recalls taking pregnancy tests in Target bathrooms, with her children waiting in the stall, and hallucinating positive results.
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She compares her situation to friends’ IVF struggles and her cousin’s cancer diagnosis and hysterectomy, feeling both lucky and consumed by grief.
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She tells Nick she cannot try again, and they stop trying.
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The chapter ends with the metaphor of grief as a heavy silver locket she never takes off.
Character Development
The narrator is the central figure here, and this chapter reveals a deeply vulnerable, grief-stricken side of her. She is torn between rational gratitude for her two children and an irrational, hormone-driven longing for another. Her love for her existing children is palpable—she aches with it—but her grief over the miscarriage has made her feel like a “gaping wound.” She is also self-aware enough to recognize the guilt and shame of her feelings, especially when she compares herself to women who have struggled far more to have even one child. Her decision to stop trying is not a triumphant one; it is a surrender born of exhaustion and self-preservation.
Nick appears only briefly, but his suggestion shows he is willing to continue trying, perhaps unaware of the depth of her pain. The narrator’s response—simply saying “I can’t”—marks a turning point in their shared journey, though the chapter focuses entirely on her internal experience.
The children, Jamie and Willa, are present mostly as background, but their small voices in the Target bathroom (“Mama! Mama! We’re hot. Willa’s hungry.”) ground the scene in the reality of the family she already has. Their presence highlights the tension between her longing for another child and her responsibility to the ones she has.
Themes, Symbols, or Motifs
Grief as a Locket: The most striking symbol is the silver locket with two faces inside. The narrator doesn’t know what the faces look like, but the locket is heavy and never removed. This suggests a grief that is both intimate and unknowable—perhaps the lost baby and the life that might have been, or the two children she already has, or even the two versions of herself (before and after the loss). The weight implies that grief is a constant companion, impossible to set down.
The Conception Roller Coaster: The narrator uses this metaphor to describe the emotional whiplash of trying to conceive—the slow climb of hope, the plunge of disappointment, and the immediate restart. It captures the exhausting, repetitive nature of the process and the way it can consume a person’s thoughts and feelings.
The Target Bathroom: This setting becomes a symbol of the collision between her private anguish and the mundane, public world. She is monopolizing a stall while holiday shoppers wait, squinting at a stick, while her children complain about being hot and hungry. It underscores the isolation of her grief—she is surrounded by people but utterly alone in her fixation.
Guilt and Shame: The narrator explicitly names her feelings as a “layer cake of grief and guilt, thickly frosted with shame.” She feels guilty for wanting another baby when she already has two, and for grieving when others have it worse. This guilt compounds her grief, making it heavier.
Parental Love and Protection: The opening image of wanting to stuff her children back inside her to keep them safe reveals a primal, almost desperate maternal love. This love coexists with her longing for another child, creating a complex emotional landscape.
Why This Chapter Matters
This chapter provides crucial backstory for the narrator’s emotional state throughout the novel. It explains why she is so sensitive to loss and why she may be clinging to her family during the present-day vacation. The decision to stop trying for another baby is a significant life event that shapes her identity and her relationship with Nick. It also introduces the recurring motif of grief as a physical weight, which may resonate later in the book. By showing the narrator at her most vulnerable, the chapter deepens our empathy for her and sets the stage for any present-day conflicts or reflections.
Study Questions and Answers
1. Why does the narrator describe herself as a “human layer cake of grief and guilt, thickly frosted with shame”? What specific sources of guilt and shame does she identify?
The narrator feels guilty because she already has two healthy children while others—like her friends undergoing IVF and her cousin who lost her pregnancy to cancer—struggle to have even one. She knows she is “lucky by any standard,” yet she is consumed by grief over her miscarriage. This contrast makes her feel ashamed of her unhappiness, as if she has no right to it. The “layer cake” metaphor suggests that her grief and guilt are intertwined and layered, with shame covering everything.
2. How does the Target bathroom scene illustrate the narrator’s emotional state? What does it reveal about her relationship with her children?
The Target bathroom scene shows the narrator’s obsessive fixation on getting a positive pregnancy test. She is so focused on the test that she ignores her children’s discomfort and the line of waiting shoppers. Her children’s voices (“Mama! Mama! We’re hot. Willa’s hungry.”) pull her back to reality, but only briefly. This reveals that her longing for another baby temporarily overshadows her attention to the children she already has, which later feeds her guilt. It also shows the mundane, almost absurd context in which her grief plays out—she is not in a quiet, private space but in a public restroom, surrounded by the chaos of everyday life.
3. What does the silver locket symbolize, and why does the narrator say she never takes it off?
The silver locket symbolizes the persistent, inescapable nature of her grief. It has two faces, but she doesn’t know what they look like—perhaps representing the lost baby and the imagined future, or the two children she has, or the two sides of herself (the one who wanted another child and the one who couldn’t try again). The weight around her neck suggests that grief is a constant physical presence. She never takes it off because she cannot—the loss is permanently part of her, and she has learned to carry it with her rather than set it down.