My year-long Thinking odyssey

submitted by Emily:

I started my blood tests this month, have developed an unlikely rapport with a fertility specialist, and am moving to a better neighborhood before the year's end. All of this probably falls into the category of "trying" because I couldn't have conceived of actually doing these things a year ago. Back then, it was all baby steps...

The single most important thing I'd tell anyone starting out in this process is to give yourself a firm and generous window to think. This does two things for you right off the bat: minimizes the stress of each realization (like Scarlett, you can just think about it tomorrow), and offers up a deadline that can actually feel like a reward for your months of mental gymnastics.

I gave myself a year, and truth be told, I started easing into action a couple months early... but that just felt like extra credit. Like getting things done that weren't even on your list for the day. Gold star! And if I want to put it off I still can. That kind of permission is exactly what this Generous Thinking Window is all about.

So end of 2007, November and December, I talked about it abstractly, just a little at a time, to one friend and to myself. I bought my first books - my first step into any project. Picked up Mikki's great resource, and Knock Yourself Up, and everything else with "single motherhood" in the title. I got acquainted with the issues, started to wonder if I should use a close friend as a donor or find an anonymous one. Googled sperm banks. And it wasn't until the summer that I found the indispensable New Essential Guide to Lesbian Conception, Pregnancy and Birth and Taking Charge of Your Fertility. That's okay, there was plenty to think about.

Sometime in March or April I had an attack of cold feet when I realized that I wouldn't be able to travel for work much at all if I had a baby on my own. In a panic, I whipped around and snagged a lover and started ferociously imagining a life together. A month later I regained my senses and realized with renewed conviction how much I want to do this on my own. And that yes, there will be sacrifices.

I think the big thing that put my process back into perspective was the recognition that I won't want to travel as much. I'll want to be there as much as possible, and sometimes I won't be able to be there as much as I want to, but dragging someone else into it isn't the way to reconcile that fact. This is something every working parent has to deal with, single or not.

The metaphor that lingers, especially when I think of that time last Spring, is of my daily life flailing wildly on a rocky sea. It's a scene that I imagine with a lot of humor, only a little pathos. Because at the bottom of that sea, where the waters are still, dark, and clear, there's a gentle nurse shark making her way along in a persistent direction, unphased by the noise above. That's my gut. I have my ups and downs, but deep inside I know I'm doing what's right for me.


to read more about the nitty gritty of my process since opening the door to the trying phase, check out my blog: mydiybaby.com

Coming to terms with grief

Submitted by Roni:

I am now officially in the trying-to-conceive process, although I still find myself with thoughts of "am I making the right decision?" There's such an overlapping of emotions all the time. I continue to see-saw through the agony of deciding to raise a fatherless child.

I spent the afternoon with friends and their two-year-old boy. Inside my stomach was in knots watching the natural fusion between the child and the role each parent plays for him, and how they interact with him and each other regarding him. Sigh.

I have wrestled and struggled and belly-ached all year with my grief about having a baby without the partner. But I have entered a new phase. While taking this mourning and pain of partnerlessness seriously, I am now coming from a place of empowerment and maternal yearning. I am coming to terms with many issues (I do recommend some form of therapy to resolve the losses and the fears of becoming a Choice Mom) and accepting the fact that some things are unavoidable but we do make the decisions we make anyway.

It's why I love hearing from all the women on the Choice Mom discussion board — so much courage, so much determination, so much love to give that won't quit despite the odds and obstacles along the way.

I am honored to take my place (G-d willing soon) amongst such a supreme but exceedingly humble and human group of women.

Yes, we generally desire a partner to share with us the burden and the joy of raising a child, but even if we must defer that aspect of life for awhile, let's not defer motherhood indefinitely because we will always regret it if we miss the chance altogether.

Let's also not buy into the myth of "hello this is me, single forever." We all deserve love and companionship.

Deciding to become a single mom is not tagging myself as "unmarriageable" either by design or by resolve. I certainly have struggled with this issue, which was the main reason I couldn't proceed last year. But now I say "Believe in yourself, believe in love." When people ask "are you married?" my response is "not yet."

For some of us, it happens at 21, others 51, some succeed at 40, others dissolve at 25. There is no universal standard age for successful and fulfilling partnerships. We each have our time frame for love, but motherhood cannot wait indefinitely.

Good luck to every woman who makes the life altering choice.

One vision of a childless future

submitted by Marinela, 43, mother of a five-month-old

Do you ever have that feeling? And not just a bit but where you feel
shaken to the core?

Earlier tonight I took my son to a synagogue that I used to frequent
when I was childless as they have a great singles "meat market." They
also, it turns out, have a great children's Shabbat program - no
preaching, just songs and doing a conga type line that kids really
enjoyed, letting kids play around on stage - very fun and interactive.
I had to use the restroom afterwards, and no one was around to hold
Colin so I maneuvered to hold him and do my thing at the same time AND
wash my hands afterwards (didn't know I could do it). My back was
aching, my sprained toe was swelling up and hurting, and I was
questioning my resolve to take my son to this function.

We went into the dinner hall, and I got some food for myself while
holding Colin (all squirming 18 lbs. of him). My plate was already
full by the time someone offered to hold him. I sat down at a table with
a lot of other people and tried to engage in conversation, but somehow
it didn't click. So I sat and looked around at the mostly father+mother
+kid(s) families around me while eating and bottle-feeding Colin,
feeling sorry for myself.

Then I noticed a woman coming into the room and taking out her wallet
to pay the dinner fee. She was older, in her 60s, and wearing
a rumpled beige raincoat. She got her food and sat at a table in a
corner of the room, away from everyone. There was something
indescribably sad about the sight of her sitting in a corner, not just
alone but facing away from everyone - surrounded by people chattering
away and kids laughing and screaming. I kept glancing in her direction
and finally I gave into the pull and took Colin over to her table to
sit and talk to her.

She seemed delighted to talk to someone - even stopped eating though I
asked her a couple of times to continue with her dinner. Colin got
restless rooting at my breast because it was his bedtime, but I just
soothed him becaus I didn't want to cut her off. It was as if she knew
why I'd come over... She told me that she was 66, that she'd wanted
children, but her ex-husband had diabetes and was already taking care
of nephews/nieces, and so she'd focused on her career, said she'd been
on President Clinton's council on something or other, etc. I think she
was a bit off in the head, but not anymore than any of us would get
were we to become alone and isolated. When she heard that I was a
single mother, she tried to encourage me, saying I should go to other
functions to meet a partner, and other bits of advice. After we left,
I saw her slowly crossing a street, painfully hunched over, and then
hailing a cab.

As I was driving home, I felt so shaken up... Colin was sleeping
peacefully in his carseat behind me, and I sneaked glances at his
serene face as tears blurred my vision. I kept thinking, "Oh, God, oh,
God, that could have been me 20 years from now" - had I not made the
decision to have a child on my own or had I put my hope in a guy yet
again. In a parallel universe, that IS me!

Meeting this woman and hearing her story put my difficulties of coping on
my own into perspective: nothing would be as bad to me as not having
my child, NOTHING!

Has any of you experienced a similar epiphany?

Working odd hours

A not-uncommon query was posted on the Choice Mom discussion board by someone who worked long, odd hours and was concerned how other single women with non-9-to-5 work managed. She also wondered how we work 40 hours and then come home and do everything alone. It elicited some helpful responses that I thought should be shared with the wider blog audience:

Helena: I also had a job that required a lot of hours and potentially some really weird, last minute, come-in-and-deal-with-this-at-3 a.m. ones. I made sure I had back up--people I knew and could call on in an emergency, and also found that I could often bring my son (now 3) in on those rare middle-of-the-night occasions. I found that kids can be pretty adaptable when they are started off with a certain routine early on. I have family about 50 miles away but also made sure I had a lot of friends who could help out if I needed to be at work on an off-time and COULDN'T have him with me. That is key. If I hadn't had that, I don't think I would have been able to stay at my (then) job.

I think you also need to tell yourself that you cannot be Super Mom without driving yourself crazy. Quality time is important over quantity time. My friends with kids who have partners (and one is a SAHM with a live-in nanny!) plan extravagant parties for their kids because they have the time to hand-make invitations and party-favors. That's great! But I have to know that I won't be able to do that much without going crazy.

Darla: I just want to reiterate that your priorities really do change once you have a child. The job that seemed so important to you before may become more just a way to make money than a way to find personal fulfillment. Not that you don't need a job that you enjoy, but just that it will likely not be nearly as important as the time you spend away from that job. And you will find waysto either work your home schedule around your job schedule or work your job schedule around your home schedule. We all do that to a certain extent, even those of us who work "normal hours".

The last thing I want to mention is that I can't stress enough how important a support system is, especially if you have medical issues that may limit your endurance at times. In my opinion, no one should parent totally alone. The old saying that 'It takes a village to raise a child' is a wise one and even two-parent households need that village from time to time. Life is messy. People get sick, cars break down, things come up at the last minute, and having a network of people to call on in those circumstances can be crucial.

When I started off on this journey of SMC, I had the same idea that you stated above. I wanted to have people around in case of extreme emergencies, but I wanted to be able to handle everything else by myself. What I found was that even when I can do that, I shouldn't. It's not the best option for me or my children. When I am overly tired or totally in need of adult conversation or whatever else, I am not the best mom to my children. I need to meet my own needs in order to meet theirs to the best of my abilities and so the responsible thing to do in those circumstances is ask for help, as hard as that can be at times.

I’ve also met other moms who are definitely not soul-mates but who live nearby so are really convenient in terms of trading babysitting. Sometimes it's not about the emotional connection, but just about the convenience factor.

Heather: There are 24 -hour daycare facilities these days to accommodate those working the non-traditional 8-5 shift. I think if you posted an add for a home day care provider with your specific hours, you may find something.

Moran: I got a nanny for $275 per week that lived in. It made my crazy career possible while I had a newborn. I was lucky to be able to bring my nanny and child to work during the first 9 months so I could continue to breastfeed and be near her. After that (and until now - she just turned 3) I have stayed home. I am able to share the real formative time with her and have stretched my funds and got my own insurance. Sacrifices have been made, but it is worth it. I knew it would be hard, but totally underestimated it. You need lots of support - hire some of it and if you are lucky, find friends and family that you can swap favors with.

How do you deal with the tiredness of working 40-50 hours per
week and then coming home to doing everything by oneself? I don't want to HAVE to go home to my parents on my days off just to get the extra help. I want to go just to visit but still show everyone I can do it on my own.

I totally see where you are. I was there too, but after three years of this I can tell you it is nearly impossible for you to do it entirely "on your own." Ask for help when you need it. Hire help when you need it. Give yourself a break when you can. Cut your hours back if you can. I was totally a career woman and never thought it would change, but there is not 200% of you to go around. You will definitely want to spend time with your little one. My personal advice - spend as many weeks/months at the beginning with your newborn baby then pick it up again when they are a year or so. I didn't have much of a maternity leave, but found that I was glad to have more time with her from year 1-3 when she is really forming her personality and learning what life is all about. I feel it creates the base she will need to thrive and now she can start pre-school and I can go back to work!!

At the crossroads: single, childless, happy, longing

submitted by Jenny

I’m 32 and thinking about becoming a single mother by choice.

I've lived abroad, traveled the world, gained an education, partied hard, explored my sexuality, and established a career. I pursue creative hobbies, stand up for what I believe in, volunteer for causes I'm passionate about, and look for the beauty in everything. I live alone and genuinely enjoy my own company. I take charge of my life and steer the parts that I can control - inwardly and outwardly - in the direction I want to go. I'm not complacent, but I haven't met a man who shares my goal of parenthood, and I've been single for too long.

I'm not holding out for the mythological Mr. Right. Rather, I want to meet a man who is kind-hearted, shares my values, and respects my interests. And I don't desire fireworks. Nor do I buy into the myth of ready-made soul mates. I believe that we choose to love, and we choose to commit to someone, and I will work as hard as I can to maintain my side of the love-commitment pact. I believe in compromise, and I believe in hard work. In my eyes, ups and downs *are* contentment. The thing is, I want to share them with a (truly) significant other. Now. Yet he hasn't come along, and while I can live without ever meeting a partner, I cannot live without ever mothering a child.

The media tells me that I'm to be a happy and carefree single, that I'm to revel in my ability to spend as much money as I please on as many material items as I please, and that I'm to accept that a hobby, a pet, a designer handbag and a desk by the window will fulfill my very human yearnings for deep intimacy and a biological child. I'm supposed to push my desire for commitment aside, and to drown my biological clock in cocktails. I'm to celebrate capitalism (oops, I mean singleness) by buying experiences that induce temporary highs and “pampering” myself in ways that conform to Western beauty ideals - while having meaningless sex with a different man every night (who won’t even pay me for the displeasure). And I'm to feel proud of these “achievements.”

Only all I want is to be a mother, which now requires new ways of being and believing. Because the bustling family life and equally shared parenting I’ve always aspired to, sensing it would make me profoundly happy, now feels akin to chasing rainbows -- on deadline. I never imagined my wishes would slip so easily through my fingers. After all, they were within my reach, under my control, and embarrassingly average. Or were they?

As I stand at crossroads -- facing my fears, acknowledging my loss, and reshaping my hopes -- avoidance, confusion and anger have given way to anxiety and frustration. Sure, I’m ready and willing to make a lifelong commitment, shoulder responsibility, surrender my personal freedoms, and relinquish my lifestyle “privileges.” I feel like I’ve been ready for years. And yes, I’m confident that I can provide time, attention, love, discipline, and material essentials. But do I have the right to have a child because...well, just because I want one?

Does “choice” motherhood disadvantage a child from his or her first breath? To what degree does the stigma attached to “choice” mothers “taint” a child, too? What psychosocial obstacles stand in the way of a “choice” child, teenager, and adult’s happiness? Am I strong enough not to feel belittled by the elevated social status conferred on partnered mothers? Is putting care and thought into bringing a “choice” child into this world any guarantee that I will make the right decision? Without knowing the personality of my future child, or how he or she will react to mine, can that decision ever be “right”? Will (single) mother-love be enough “protection” against an oftentimes hard, lonely and thankless job? Can I truly resign myself to the possibility of never experiencing passionate, companionate love with a man again? And if “giving love”, “receiving love”, and “having a family” are good enough reasons for couples (who may or may not remain together) to become parents…why aren’t they good enough for me, too?

Sometimes it’s all too much, and I find myself going round in circles, endlessly reinterpreting the ethical, psychological, and personal considerations -- what *if*, what if, *what* if?

But the more I weigh the struggles and strengths of “choice” motherhood, the more my feelings of helplessness give way to meaning. Because I may not have a new dream in place yet, but I do have a new vision of who I am and what I can become -- if I choose to reach out to the future fearlessly.

To be or not to be a mom....

from Kim, age 40

Like all of you, I have a deep desire to have a child of my own. When I was 36 I went out with a guy for two years who said he DID want a child. When we broke up he said "I always said I didn't want a child!" I know that this is a common story. Anyway, shortly after we broke up I began this journey of `thinking' and through the information on the Choice Moms discussion board realized I can have my dream without a partner.

I have been to a fertility specialist, and had every test under the sun. My fertility health is good. And an ex-boyfriend (whom I have known for 15y) agreed to be my known donor. He is the perfect KD because he lives in another continent (Australia) and has even offered to help with some financial support. Last weekend he visited and we went to a sperm bank together. We are all set to go; his "life-force" is there for me now...waiting for me....I feel so grateful and lucky!!!

And now here is my question. I have done an enormous amount of soul searching....and it's clear to me there is a piece of me that is still "not sure." There are the doubts of course about whether I can practically raise a child by myself -- emotionally, financially -- and the worries about future dating, etc. That's all there. But my real question is about....am I choosing from my heart?

To be frank, I realize that my belief system up until now has been that my life will be complete if I have a baby. In reality I know that it will be very `different' and not necessarily `better'. Because all my energy has been focused on this, I have it in my mind that being a mother is superior to not being a mother. I am very self sufficient, and very successful at `getting it done', and I've pursued this like: here's the problem, and here's how I fix it.

Now that I know being a mother is a very REAL possibility for me, the `urgency' has gone. I can truly and honestly sit with `having a baby' and `not having a baby'. And I'm just `feeling' into that. Feeling into my body and my heart and waiting for something else to arise in me. I am so grateful for this space now because I know I am choosing from a place of deep calm rather than to fill a gap. I still have an overwhelming, overflowing love toward children when I am around them by the way. That has been a constant for me.

I would really love to hear from others that are at this point -- at the edge of not having or having, being a mom or not being a mom. Does this question come up for you too?

I look forward to your responses.

My "bucket list" ...and Sex in the City

from Rudy:

I’m technically still a Thinker, since I haven’t started the actual process of trying to conceive (TTC) yet, but I am now 100 percent committed to doing it. I just have to wait another year due to financial and work-related constraints.

Having all this time to ponder my decision has been both a blessing and a curse.

On the one hand, it’s terribly difficult to have so many months to wait. I’ve started a weekly countdown and am now at week 57, which seems like an unbearable amount of time, especially when thoughts of being a mother cross my mind at least 10 times a day. However, the long waiting period has also given me time to fully prepare myself emotionally, physically and psychologically (as well as financially).

To that end, I have created my own private “Bucket List” (swiped the idea from the movie obviously) of things I want to accomplish before getting pregnant/having a child. Some of the items are practical, such as learning to sew (a way to save money after the child comes) and teaching myself a working knowledge of things like plumbing, electricity and auto mechanics (to help me become even more independent). Other items are more for my emotional well-being, such as running a half marathon (to give me a real feeling of accomplishment, and faith in my abilities) and visiting NYC (something I’ve never done but have always wanted to do). Other items are simply frivolous and are too embarrassing to mention, but will act to further contribute to my feelings of self-confidence as I embark on my journey.

I had an interesting experience last week when I met with my financial advisor. I had previously told him of my plans (didn’t really want to share that info with a near-stranger, but since it is very relevant to my financial plan, I did have to tell him). I obviously didn’t go into details, and I realized how little he comprehends the situation when he was talking about my future plans and said “When you…uh…get…a baby in a few years”

When I GET a baby? What does he think I’m doing, ordering one from a catalogue? In any case, I have to give him credit for not dismissing my plan. I just found it humorous the way he struggled to find the right words for this unorthodox situation!

One less positive experience this week was watching the "Sex and the City" movie last night. I suppose it was silly of me to allow myself to get emotional over a movie, but after watching the series for six years, I was quite attached to the characters, and the movie was quite heart-wrenching at times. And the happy endings that were portrayed reminded me (albeit in typical over-the-top Hollywood fashion) how wonderful love and marriage can be when you find the right partner.

It felt particularly poignant for me since I am in the midst of grieving the fact that this kind of “happy ending” may never happen for me. I think my initial reaction to such things is to subconsciously or consciously try to “harden” my heart in an attempt to distance myself from the need for sex and romantic love, but then I realized what an awful thing that is to do to oneself. But I feel trapped in a sense. Opening myself to these kinds of feelings is even more painful because I have no immediate means by which to fulfill them. I don’t want to suppress my emotions (and realize it’s not healthy to do so), but I sometimes find no other way to block out the pain.

However, I must note that up until I saw the movie, I was feeling very happy with my life and quite positive overall about my plans. Perhaps I was just having an overly emotional day when I saw the movie. But I also wonder if it stirred up emotions that I had been trying to keep under wraps and they all came bubbling out.

I suppose time will tell, and this has in no way changed my mind about my future. It’s just made me realize that it might not be as easy emotionally as I had been fooling myself to believe.

To all those Moms out there, are there things you wish you'd done before having your child/children that would have been helpful to you?

Regrets...

At my favorite Unitarian Universalist tradition today -- the Coming of Age ceremony for our 9th graders -- McKenzie, a young woman who has stood out for me at the church for several years, when I met her in a class I helped teach about "Neighboring Faiths," offered her thoughts on who she is and is not.

Always much more confident and comfortable being who she is than I remember myself at 15, she had some wonderful things to say to the adult congregants gathered about her own spiritual guidelines...about the difference between dreaming (moving toward your goals) and obsessing (focusing on something that just gets you stuck).

She also had this excellent insight, which I asked her for permission to reprint here:
"Regret is being unable to learn from our mistakes."
And, a line that I'm happy to say that my 9-year-old daughter just recited to me from memory:
"Don't regret mistakes. Acknowledge them and learn from them."

-- Mikki

How do I juggle work travel?

This common query from Emily, who welcomes our comments and responses here.

I travel for work at least once a month. Sometimes I'm away from the Bay Area for a week at a time, and the voyage isn't an easy one - often grappling with O'Hare, weather delays, difficult connections, and then sitting in the middle seat when I get stuffed onto a flight I was wait-listed for, catching every flu and cold in the nation between November and June.

I'm getting ahead of myself. With each of these scenes now, I'm imagining the kid. Would I take you with me? Where and with whom would I leave you if I didn't? I can't even conceive of leaving you in someone else's care overnight. And if I did that, how would I pay for it? The issues explode in every direction.

This reminds me of my mom's story, c. 1978, we were leaving my father - or rather, I suppose he had left us. She took me out to lunch - I was 3 or so - to tell me he wasn't going to be living with us anymore and we were going to be moving. As she tells it, my eyes filled with tears and I replied, "but I can't carry all my stuff!" She assured me we would be getting movers, and apparently that solved my immediate concerns.

At the same time that I wrestle with the mammoth decisions - to do this now or wait?, and how to inseminate - I feel this old tug of the details. How will I carry everything? Groceries and a stroller, luggage and baby dashing through O'Hare, a car rental at the airport and a child seat that isn't mine... or would I bring one? Or again, would I leave the baby at home? How does this work?

Here's the big one: what will having a baby on my own do to my work? Will I be able to perform as well if I can't just jump on a plane with a week's notice? Can I refuse to travel for 6 months... or a year? If I leave the baby with someone, will it be okay and how could I possibly do that? Will I have to work harder to compensate for not traveling as much? Will they punish me for choosing to do this on my own? How much will be too much to ask?

I often console myself with the thought that having a baby now is what I need to do and the rest will work itself out. I'm actually clear on this in my heart, when I'm not overwhelmed by the details and unknowns. I worry about the finances, but not as much as I worry about these logistics of balancing a baby and work... and the torn feelings I know I'll have when I have to be away more than I'd like.

One of my dearest wishes is to find a community of women I can trust... I dream about a warm web of support. It's my biggest comfort to imagine that there might be a number of us both in the area where I live and online, who can offer a hand, a reference, advice, and a safety net to help each other out in ways even our mothers might not have experienced a generation ago.

When my mom tells me about the early days with my father, it doesn't sound like she had much help. She was lucky when I was older to be remarried to a man who was home with me when she traveled for a week at a time. Apparently things have a way of working out...

Mikki's note: Welcome Emily, to the website and the discussion group, where you will indeed find the warm web of support you are looking for. You will undoubtedly start to get some of the feedback you are looking for as you plan your journey.

Have I Waited Long Enough?

A woman on the Choice Mom discussion board introduced herself recently. She was 35, had been dating, but didn't find a partner interested in marriage and children, so she decided to move ahead to try to conceive on her own before it was too late or too expensive. She chose a doctor, an open-identity donor, and was weeks away from her first insemination. She read the right books, accepted the drawbacks to her method to motherhood, and found the support of her parents.

"But at the same time, I'm wondering if I should wait to do this,
because I'm not sure I am ready to 'give up the dream' of finding a
partner to raise a child with. Am I deluding myself that I still have
time to meet that person?"

Here is how some of the women responded to her very common concern:

NO NAME, 38 weeks pregnant

It's kind of interesting I should see this post tonight, because about
two hours ago I had a real meltdown. I'm five days away from my
c-section, and tonight I'm having a crisis of faith. I'm doing this on
my own, as I've done so many other things in my life, and I'm worried
that I'm about to condemn my son to feeling like that same outsider
I've always felt like. I've always felt that normal lives are what
other people have. I worry about my son feeling that way when he
sees other kids with fathers and siblings. People keep telling me how
wonderful it is I'm doing this and how I'll be great, and how brave, yada,
yada, yada. "If anyone can do it alone, you can."

I don't actually debate that, but it would have been nice for once in my life to not be doing something on my own because there was someone out there who really wanted to do it with me. Now I realize a lot of this is the hormones and sciatica talking (starting two days ago, I can hardly walk), but it's still hard.

So I don't know what to tell you about which inner voice to listen to.
The one that says "hang on a little longer to get what I really want"
or "now is the time to do it." Not listening to which inner voice will
make you crazier? Not waiting for ideal, or waiting for ideal and
potentially winding up with nothing? I realize that it was exactly one
year ago today that I got on this roller coaster (first attempt), and I
had a compulsion and a sense of panic that I had to try. I completely
hear you on that inner voice screaming at you "time's up! make a
call!" I think I've been the least at ease with the decision during
the pregnancy, because before the pregnancy I knew I had to try or I'd
never forgive myself, and after the baby's here, it will change
everything. However, sitting here alone and just waiting without the
panic of knowing I needed to try and without an actual outcome yet has
been the worst of it. I suspect it's the predominant rational brain,
combined with hormones and feeling like crap.

Someone said to me a few months ago -- "oh, it's good you did
the thing that was the most important." I said "no, I did the thing
that couldn't wait and had a time limit." I can't actually rank the two
things in terms of importance -- they're very different things and
fulfill very different needs. I've been very aware that I cannot expect
a child to fill one kind of loneliness. And I do not regret not going
with an uninspiring relationship in order to have a child with a
husband.

REBECCA, 31 weeks pregnant

It's hard to know when you've hit the now-or-never point until you hit it. Then it's really clear - at least it was for me. For me, it was when a friend of mine got breast cancer at age 36. She had a lumpectomy and chemo and her prognosis is excellent, but before she had chemo she was trying to decide whether to freeze her eggs in case they got fried beyond use from the chemo. (She did end up freezing them.) In helping her decide, I did some research and came across fertility rates for women over 35. I had always heard that fertility drops exponentially after age 35, but seeing actually seeing the numbers themselves was shocking.

Also, I hadn't had a date with anyone even close to marriageable in literally years, which made me more ready to let go of the "dream" part of it.

Thank goodness I didn't wait any longer, because my fertility wasn't as peachy as I assumed it would be. They found a fibroid, luteal phase defect, and high FSH for my age. I got pregnant after sixth and last IUI before moving on to IVF. Had I waited until I was 40, I would almost certainly have had to do IVF, or maybe not been able to use my eggs at all. That was too close for comfort for me, and it all came as a total shock.

If you know you want a biological child, I'd recommend doing it sooner rather than later. There is a ton of variability in ovarian aging, which makes it hard to predict when you will run out of time. And as you get older, issues that are minor for younger women (like a small fibroid) interact with your age and draw your per-cycle chance of pregnancy down even further.

Having said that, "sooner" doesn't mean "freak out this instant," but you might want to take some steps and think about trying to conceive in the next two years instead of thinking you have till you're 40. Getting a fertility work-up wouldn't be a bad idea. It'll give you a sense of what you're really dealing with. Start figuring out how you're going to pay for your fertility bills. It cost me about $9,400 to get pregnant.

But I completely agree that you must be comfortable with your decision, because you are liable to have frightening doubts no matter how well things go. I'm 31 weeks pregnant and I have fears that I'm making a huge mistake, even though everyone around me has been hugely supportive and most of the rational evidence points to the decision being a good one. It is a huge leap of faith. I imagine that other - i.e., "normal" - parents-to-be have fears as well.

JULIE, trying to conceive

This conversation is at the very core of why we (independent, loving, and intelligent) women come to the crossroads and make a decision instead of letting life just roll right over us. I know far too many people who never take leaps of faith and wind up pissed off and blaming the world for their lack. We all control our destiny to some degree. I would much rather be in the camp where I took a huge leap of faith and made a few mistakes along the way than to be in the camp where everyone is complacent and frozen with fear. Life is pretty damn scary when you think about your mortality, and how anything can happen at any given moment to take life away from you. I am a nurse. I see this on a daily basis and consider it a gift to have that perspective.

There are many days spent in neutral and that's just fine for some, but as for me, I'm choosing to drive and some days the pedal is to the floor. I refuse to get to the end of my life and have regret.

That said, this is no small feat; choosing to raise a child on your own. The fact that we all are going into it with such reverence and awe cannot be ignored. We are women who believe we have something very special within us that can only be nurtured by raising a child. Our need to be in a relationship with a child is far different from our need to be in a relationship with a man or woman.

I have had to mourn the dream as well. The first thing I did before I ever made an appointment with the fertility clinic was to find a good psychotherapist to make sure I wasn't letting go of something that was still important to me. Let me tell you, it has been no walk in the park. The grief took me by surprise, but I worked through it and continue to do so. I recommend it to anyone struggling with this decision. If you have the resources, go to someone who functions as a counselor or therapist. It's just as important as the Clomid.

A loving relationship with the right man would be such a gift, but for some reason God has chosen a different path for me. Maybe that means that the right man is just waiting for me to get the baby-making thing taken care of and he will show up later. There will still be men out there to date in my 40s, 50s, and on. My eggs, however, will not wait that long.

I fully agree that if you are not ready to jump right in and start the IUIs, don't push yourself. You need to feel ready, not forced. Be honest with yourself. It is not an easy ride, but hopefully you will find out what many of us have discovered. You will be amazed by the support you will receive. The key is opening your heart and letting it in. Let people help and support you. They gain something from it, too.

MIMI, 18 weeks pregnant

Your story is remarkably similar to mine. I had a few short-term relationships and at 35 decided to hang in with a guy I thought would get there. Low and behold, when I was 37, I realized he was never going to be able to come to grips with having kids, so I ended the relationship and began on the Choice Mom path.

After two miscarriages, doc did more tests and found a polyp, which was interfering with implantation. Had the polyp removed and voila!

If I had to do it over again, I would have started when I was 35. It really wasn't worth waiting to find Mr. Right. In fact, one of the few regrets I have as I look back on my life is that I wasted almost two years with a guy I probably knew deep down all along wasn't going to get there. As I'd like to have 2 kids, and will be almost 39 when I deliver, I'm worried I won't be able to.

KIM, about to start trying

I have been reading the "Now or Never" posts with interest. If all my tests are okay I may be trying my first attempt next month. While I am feeling quite confident about my decision, I also have moments of questioning, doubts and fears.

I have been thinking back on when I started running about 8 years ago. I started out just running a couple of miles and was happy when I achieved 2 loops around the lake, putting me at 4 miles. I did a few 5K's and people asked if I might move on to 10K's and I would say 'no, not really interested in training for that distance.' But ultimately I did a couple of 10K's. Then the question was, how about a half marathon? 'No, too much work, too far.' But I did end up thinking well, why not, let's give it a try. After a few halfs, inevitably the question of a full marathon would come up. For a couple of years my response was, '26 miles, are you nuts!' You guessed it. I suddenly had the urge to try and over several months worked up to the point that I could finish a marathon. Now I've finished 4.

One thing they tell you when you start training for a marathon is, you must respect the distance. It is a long way, and no, you are not going to be able to step out the door today and do 26 miles. It's about training and learning and ultimately taking one step at a time.

Anyway my point is that there are things in life that seem too hard, scary, or unknown and yes, there is a lot to learn and a lot of what ifs. But I think you need to trust your instincts, sign up for the race and trust that you will take it a step at a time and deal with whatever comes your way. We have no way of knowing what our current choices will bring us in the future, but we do know that life is way too short.