Book Review: Motherland

Reviewed by J.B. Leddington | Content warnings: Death of a child

A powerful memoir of love, loss, and painful recovery

Barb Higgins’ Motherland explores the lead up to and aftermath of a devastating bereavement, pulling no punches and laying bare all the regrets and recriminations that accompany the death of a loved one. Deeply emotional and highly insightful, Higgins’ recollections elucidate the feelings of sadness and hopelessness that characterize such a time, but importantly, they also reveal how a glimmer of hope can be lurking in even the darkest of corners.

While death typically comes as a short, sharp shock, in Motherland it begins with the not uncommon fracturing of a family. The honesty with which Higgins intends to tell her story is clear from the outset, as she explains how her former husband had racked up so much debt that she had to divorce him to preserve her savings and keep the family home. She’s equally candid about the relationship she was in after the divorce: “I was in a relationship with Roy […] He was possessive and controlling and kept trying to pull me away from my children. Often, I let him.” 

Unsurprisingly, “Neither Molly nor her fifteen-year-old sister, Gracie, liked him.” The happy family is gone and the adults in the situation are certainly not covering themselves in glory. Higgins’ former husband “drank heavily, even though he was on dialysis, even though his kidneys were failing. If anyone was going to die, I told myself at that time, it was him,” while Higgins herself “also drank too much. And I took recreational drugs. I kept poor company.” A clear portrait of dysfunction is eloquently painted.

As a consequence of such dysfunction, in “the week leading up to Molly’s death, in   the last days of my thirteen-year-old daughter’s life, I was three thousand miles away from her in Europe. I was in another man’s bed when Kenny called me to say that our daughter was in the hospital.” It’s impossible to read lines like this in Motherland and not feel an immense sense of empathy for what Higgins has been through and what she presumably continues to go through. There’s no doubt that she made some poor decisions, but she has suffered horrifically because of them.

When she makes it back home, Higgins learns that Molly has “been sick all night, lying on the bathroom floor, throwing up, her headaches so bad she couldn’t keep her eyes open, and I hadn’t been there for her.” Molly’s dad has taken her to the ER, where Higgins and her other daughter Gracie are to join them. Before that, however, Higgins reflects on how Molly had been experiencing debilitating headaches and bouts of vomiting for a few weeks, and how she has received decidedly subpar medical treatment or even been dismissed as a time-waster when taken to the pediatrician.

Such memories reveal another of Higgins’ major regrets: that she didn’t push for further investigation/treatment, that she let the doctors explain away Molly’s symptoms. And, of course, the fact that she still went on holiday abroad with Roy, even though Molly was clearly ill. 

The weight that she has to bear due to these memories is palpable throughout Motherland, rendering her a sympathetic and relatable person despite the mistakes she has made. In this way, Higgins’ memoir will likely—and hopefully—help other bereaved individuals come to terms with the past and realize that mistakes are human.

At the ER, Molly is given medication for what the first doctor she sees diagnoses as a severe migraine. “This conditioning we have to trust our doctors, it goes deep. As does our belief that they are the experts when it comes to our bodies and the bodies of our children.” Tragically, in Molly’s case, the doctor is very wrong. Sixteen hours later, while she’s moved to the pediatrics department and the doctors finally agree to prep her for a CT scan, “the buildup of fluid had put so much pressure on her brain stem that the tumor had ruptured. The tumor that no one yet knew was there.”

Molly never regains consciousness. 

Her death sets in motion a whirlwind of questions and activity, and it forever changes the lives of Higgins, her ex-husband, and their older daughter Gracie. As Higgins makes clear, while she works hard in the days and months that follow to ensure people know about Molly and her death, she also becomes lost in her grief and pain. 

“And in the years after Molly’s death, I wasn’t any better. I didn’t suddenly become wise and good, purified by the tragedy of losing my child. I fell into addiction again. I let people down, most of all Gracie, who deserved better. And of course, I let myself down too.”

However, she also relates how, as time passes and the days and months since Molly has been gone turn into years, things start to become a little brighter and she starts to find her way back to herself, to her family and friends. Eventually, at the age of 57, Higgins even makes the decision to have another child, a son, Jack. The latter parts of the book present Higgins’ recollections of the period leading to this healing, emotional recovery, and reconciliation—the good, the bad, and the ugly.

Given its focus on the loss of a child and the aftermath of such a painful bereavement, Motherland is a very upsetting read. From personal anecdotes, to the reactions of loved ones and members of the wider community, to descriptions of the various rituals related to death, Higgin’s memoir is visceral and deeply moving, offering a window into aspects of life (and death) that are typically kept in the private sphere. Yet, it is also an important and helpful book, revealing commonalities that all bereaved people share and showing that there is always room for hope.

Through her exploration of the impact of bereavement and grief on her as an individual, Higgins also offers valuable insights into motherhood and loss more generally. For instance, she notes the tendency to almost deify a bereaved mother, even though “there’s nothing sacred or holy or untouchable about a mother who loses a child.” In fact, as Higgins eloquently describes, the “grieving mother is as lost and terrified and broken and flawed as the next person. Sometimes more so.” She also highlights how there is no one “correct” way to grieve.

Comments like these, as well as much of what Higgins relates in Motherhood, are likely to resonate with and offer hope to those who have themselves been bereaved, particularly mothers who have lost a child. As such, despite all the painful parts, it can be seen as a hopeful and necessary book, one that has the power to unite and assist. Moreover, while Motherland is very much Higgins’ story, it also eloquently shows just how special a person Molly was, thereby helping to preserve her legacy and keep her memory alive.

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