In hindsight, what would you do differently?

A 40-year-old woman, new to the Choice Mom discussion board, said it was time for her to make a conscious decision about her future instead of letting nature decide. She had read "Choosing Single Motherhood," taken the Clomid challenge, and was still wrestling with whether she could possibly raise a baby on her own. She asked: "For all of you who have been through the Thinking stage already, what are the top three things you wish you would have known or done while you were in your decision-making process?"

Many of the answers were the same, which is worth pointing out here:

Said one woman: "I wish I would have started SOONER! I was stuck in my ambivalence phase for so long that I let YEARS go by. Precious, precious years that could have resulted in an easier time getting pregnant. Now I am 42 and on my second IVF cycle....waiting to see what will happen. So yeah, SOONER. For example, back in May I went to my clinic and made my decision to try but I didn't actually do the first cycle until November. I should have done it right away. And more specifically, I wish I'd tried getting pregnant say 3 years ago when my eggs were probably a lot more viable. So, my advice is: DO IT NOW!"

Replied Cathi: 1) I wish I would have gotten healthier (lost weight, been in better shape, made better food choices) before conceiving. 2) I wish I would have saved more money. I did pretty well at paying off student loans and my car, but I still blew a lot, especially on setting up the nursery. I should have used Craigslist more for baby stuff, and not bought 1/10 of the baby clothes I did in my excitement! 3) I wish I'd relaxed and enjoyed the pregnancy more. I had a lot of stress going on with my living situation at the time (I moved when I was 7 1/2 months pregnant), and spent a lot of nights in the tub sobbing with worry and maybe a little self-pity. I wish I could've been more grateful that I was healthy and expecting a baby instead of stressed about money and caregivers and my boss and not having a partner and where I was going to live!

For me, I didn't wish I'd done it sooner - this was the right time for me, and I was at the right place in my life with work and family etc.

Said Jeanne: "I will be 41 this week and started this whole process a few days before I turned 40. I've had 4 IUI's with AD, resulting in one chemical pregnancy and one pregnancy that miscarried at 12 weeks. I wish I had: started earlier; not worried so much about choosing the "perfect" donor; and not worried about what others might think or say. The things that seemed so important to me at the beginning of the journey really aren't as important anymore. All that matters now is getting and staying pregnant! Good luck on your journey!

Said one 42-year-old: 1) I wish I would have started motherhood earlier. 2) I wish I would have NOT gotten married to Mr. Wrong ‘under the influence’ of the biological clock. (which ended up inflicting custody hell on my son). 3) I wish I were younger and financially better off, so I could have one more child.

Said Denise: 1. I wish I would have NOT married my ex-husband. 2. I wish I would have met my real soulmate several years ago and had kids with him and/or I wish I would have become an SMC years ago. 3. I wish I would have won a lottery.

Said Sharon: I wish I had started ttc when I started thinking - when I was 30. Instead I waited for Mr. Right. Bad decision. Now I'm 36 and wishing I had started a long time ago. I didn't realize how long it would take for me to get pregnant.

Said the Choice Mom of a toddler: I wish I would have started earlier. I wish I would have started T42 earlier. I wish I would have known how little I'd miss my freedom -- I'd been really worried about that, but it's not that big of a deal. I wish I would have had a laundry tub when she was a baby! Honest to god they poop all over everything when they are little.

Speaking from experience...let yourself doubt

submitted by Lily, the Choice Mom of one, at my request....because I think we have plentiful advice and insight that tells us this is a great step to take, and need to also hear from women about why it might not be the right choice for everyone:

When Mikki asked me to write this blog, I thought it would be easy. However, just like the choice I made, it's not at all. I'm not sure how to say what I want to say without appearing hostile, dejected, or down on motherhood. I just really want to make sure that those who are thinking about this choice do their darndest to be honest with themselves.

I always feel a bit obligated to bring up the other side of the coin in discussions with Thinkers and Choice Moms, not because I think I did the wrong thing, but we're under so much pressure to not show any weakness or doubt about what we've done. We can worry that we might give those who don't like what we did ammunition. Or we feel like we have no right to complain because we chose to do this, and to say you have reservations opens us up to "I told you so's" or proof we were wrong somehow.

I openly call what I did "Plan B" and don't pretend to myself or anyone else that I see this as the pinnacle of motherhood. I still think kids are better off in two-parent homes in an ideal world. But as is evident by my choice, I just don't think that ANY two parents are better than just one. There are more screwed up families out there than I can count because of that idea.

I am now the mother to a wonderful little boy. Despite that, I'm still not sure I did the right thing for me. I never ever wanted to do this alone, but felt forced into it by circumstances -- the calculus that I saw at the time was "by holding out for what I really want, I'm very likely to end up with nothing. Let's do something."

I had to go down fighting. I suspect I have a harder time dealing with the choice because I know I still harbor some resentment at the universe, or fate, or whatever, that it came down to this. I understand that I have to let some of the anger go. And, while I'm making a lot of progress, it's not always a linear progression and it can crop up from time to time.

I know I had to give up the dream (possibly for now, possibly forever) of having a "family." I know many Choice Moms -- and other single parents -- consider themselves and a child a family, but in my mind a family involves a companion relationship for me as well.

I'm an only child, which I did not like. And I am rather concerned that my son will have even less of a family than I have (and mine is small), with no aunts, uncles, cousins, siblings, etc. I really would have liked him connected to a larger family unit than we've got.

I also wanted to have a real 'grown-up life," with companionship, children, and a different experience than I have as a single person. I've been independent, organized, stable, and together my whole life. I know darn well I don't need anyone to take care of me. But just once in a while I'd like to not be stepping out there alone and taking care of everything.

So for all of you Thinkers, be mindful of being realistic about what you really want.

I knew I didn't want to do this alone, but I rationalized it away. My son is wonderful, but I was right that he alone doesn't fill the entire void. The void seems even deeper when you're sleep-deprived and realize there's no change on the horizon for years.

I know some single parents do find a way to meet people and date, but I don't think I will be one of them. If I couldn't do a good job of it when I didn't have a child, it's unlikely that I'll figure it out anytime soon. For me, "hard" I can do, no problem. Things need to be done, a mother needs to be responsible -- that's like falling off a log. You just do it.

It's "lonely" that gets me. The Boy is great, but if I spend one more freezing weekend in this house, with no one to talk to, nowhere to go, and no visitors, I'm selling him to the circus.

Also Thinkers -- if your communities are small and you don't have a lot of people in your life now, don't count on having a child changing it, or having people magically appear to help you out. You will be as a mother the same person you've always been, just with a child. Make sure you really are okay with that. If you're not someone who has 'transformative experiences,' don't expect this one will automatically do the trick. It may, but it may not.

I'm the person I always was, living the life I always led, just with a child. It's not a bad life by any means. But you need to be sure that you are okay if your journey ends with your same life, with the addition of a child.

Someone asked me if I would do this again. I still don't know. I get a little nervous about answering that question because I don't ever want my son to feel that I resent him, don't want him, don't love him, or any of that. That's simply not true.

On many levels, I think he's the one who's gotten the raw deal. He's the best little boy in the world (no, really :-). We're going to be just fine, and most likely better off than many around us.

I wrote my son a letter before he was born, and one thing I put in it was to reassure him that he was one of the last things left that I wanted to do. I'd traveled, had exciting jobs, lived abroad, etc. I could continue to do all those things again, but on many levels he was the last great uncharted adventure.

If that's not where you are when you make this choice, you have to figure out whether not doing those other things will eat at you.

I'm not trying to discourage anyone. I just want Thinkers to realize there's nothing wrong with you if you can't quite tell yourself that this is the best way to have children, or if you feel that this is Plan B.

It's okay to be angry -- although if all you have is anger, you may not be ready.

Don't apologize or get defensive if you make this choice. But it's also okay to not go out and evangelize Choice Motherhood either.

At the end of the day, it's no one's decision but yours.

3 strong podcasts

These three strong Choice Chat podcasts are great for women who are thinking about whether they can logistically and emotionally handle single parenthood:

Fri, 16 January 2009
Choice Mom Tricks: Part 2
Recorded at a San Francisco Bay Area networking event for Choice Moms, this show features the experience of Choice Moms founder Mikki Morrissette, the humor of author Mary Pols ("Accidentally on Purpose") and the insight of Choice Mom and therapist Felicia Shamma, as well as audience members, to discuss our fears and coping strategies.

A focus of the discussion was about finding partners in the journey -- friends, male role models, colleagues -- and the strengths, and weaknesses, we find in ourselves after we become mothers.

This show was sponsored by Pacific Fertility Center, which co-sponsored the networking event.

Tue, 6 January 2009
Choice Chat with Jennifer: support network in action
This episode features Jennifer, 8 months pregnant, who was part of a Choice Moms conversation circle that included six women talking about how we got to this stage of our journey, concerns we have for our children, how men play a role in our lives, and more.

It is a great example of the kinds of honest discussions we can and do have with each other, the thought that goes behind our decisions, and the plans we make for building the best world we can for our children.

The Choice Mom community is vast and varied and worldwide, and as this podcast allows us to hear, when we consciously reach out to each other we can be our own best support network.

This podcast was sponsored by California Cryobank, which sponsored a CD about "Answering the Daddy Question" that came out of this roundtable discussion.

Mon, 22 December 2008
Choice Mom Tricks: Part 1
In this show, recorded at a New York City networking event for Choice Moms, authors Mikki Morrissette and Louise Sloan talk about their Choice Mom journeys. What has been harder than we expected? What has been easier? What advice do we have for other single moms? What have we learned from interviewing Choice Moms and from our own personal experiences?

It also includes insight from mental health therapists Patricia Mendell and Joann Paley Galst about the rights to complain, and to ask for support.

This show was sponsored by California Cryobank, which was the gold sponsor of the New York City workshop.

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?