Maurizio hadn’t always been that way. While they were courting in America, he helped out, doing dishes, vacuuming and even proving himself the better cook of the two of them. But within their first month back in Italy all that changed. None of his friends’ wives expected their husbands’ help in “domestic” matters, especially with children, and “neither should she,” he said. More than that, she should learn to serve him as his friends’ wives served their husbands.

She only blamed herself for not seeing it coming. Maurizio’s mother, Antonella, had slaved over him his entire life, from ironing his underwear to laying out his clothes every morning, up to the day he was married. She clearly felt that Eliana wasn’t doing her part as the dutiful wife and would demonstrate to her whenever she was in their home exactly how she should be taking care of her son and grandson—taking over like a veteran pilot pulling the wheel from a trainee.

Once, while Eliana was still fresh in Italy and newly pregnant with their second child (she miscarried in the third month), Antonella had demonstrated to her how Maurizio liked his socks ironed, emphasizing the length of time the iron should be pressed. Eliana had watched incredulously. She wanted to say You’ve got to be kidding. Antonella wasn’t. Maurizio’s expectations were not all his fault, Eliana decided. He had been well trained to accept servitude. Something had to give with these Italian women.

A few years earlier, at Eliana’s insistence, she and Maurizio had gone to see a marriage counselor. The counselor, an older Italian man, nodded as she spoke of her frustration. Yes, he saw the problem. It was her.

“You are no longer in America,” he said. “As difficult as it may seem, you need to accept a new life and a new culture.” He even suggested that only Italian should be spoken in the home. No more English.

Eliana was stunned. “Forget that it’s English, this is my language.”

“What do you mean?”

She said, “This is my language. This is who I am.”

“Who you were,” he corrected. “You must quit clinging to the past in order to transcend it. You must accept a new life. You owe this to your family.”

She cried as they left the session. Accept a new life? To what point? When she said “I do,” this wasn’t the deal she had bought into. Nor was this the man. The man she had married was romantic and caring. She felt like a victim of marital bait and switch.

Maurizio claimed the same of her. “You used to be much more fun,” he once complained, “more spontanea. You’ve changed.”

She had changed. She was a mother now. Parenthood is a fork in the road. It requires sacrifices and responsibility. Eliana didn’t make it that way—it’s just the way it is. It was a crucial point in their relationship. They could either grow up together or they could grow apart. For them the latter was true. Sometimes she felt as if Maurizio blamed her for the changes a child brought into their lives—especially one with special needs. She feared that on some level Maurizio resented Alessio as well and this was why he spent so little time with him. With them.