Dealing with the ANGER

A woman posted on the Choice Mom discussion board that she wanted to "scream at the universe 'why me?' And I want to scream at society that this wasn't my first choice, that I played by the rules too. I want to travel back in time and tell my younger self that the rules change when you reach your thirties."

Her strong post of strong emotions struck a nerve with many women. Here's how Nataniella replied:

I could have written every one of these words, if I were half as articulate as you. Yes, yes, YES! I feel so ripped off and angry! I write about it, I talk to everyone who will listen (and some who won't), my therapist is on speed dial for the times a rush of emotion overtakes me and I have to scream it out.

And, yet, at the end of the day (or the scream-fest, or the crying jag), here I am. Dealing with what life has dealt me.

I read a lot of stories/novels/blogs from women who have fertility problems, or lost a partner, or other tragic life events in some way....it helps me to feel less alone and see that people, even once they've had the dream come true of a loving partner, marriage (and yes, the gawd-d*#d celebration with a big white dress and all that), sometimes sh!t happens and then in some other way life isn't what they asked for.

I try not to think about which dream I'd rather have NOT come true: my health, my romantic love, my work, etc. I have fulfilling, potentially lucrative work I find meaningful, which makes the world a better place, so I do remember once in a while to feel grateful for that.

So, no way over this except through it, I realize. I, too, long for the AUTHENTIC reframing, shifting of expectations, rather than just putting on a brave face and sallying forth. I guess I do a bit of both.

And somehow, I am starting to nudge myself (kicking and screaming) into a very slightly different place. A recent trip to my dad's sun-drenched retirement home had me imagining coming with baby in tow, no man, and what that might be like. Tentative discussions with dad and stepmom were supportive, even excited, for my rough plans. Again, trying to remember gratitude.

Tiring, though, isn't it?

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.