Single mom by choice dating
"It's time you start having kids." So barked a novelist of my acquaintance the moment we sat down for dinner.My uterus is none of his business, and yet, I'd just returned from a week on the beach with my little brother and his family, and all that quality time with my small nieces had made me feel something I'd never known: a craving to have a child of my own.I settled onto adoption because I wanted to open up a home to a child who needed one.
At 30, I decided that if I still hadn’t found the man of my dreams by 35, I was going to have kids on my own.
Finally experiencing that famous tick-tock was unsettling, I admitted, but also a relief. Even so, I wasn't ready to dismiss my decades-long ambivalence. If I were to "get on this, immediately," as he was weirdly insisting, I'd be doing it alone.
Maybe it wasn't denial, as people say, but a genuine disinclination to be a mother, my own internal voice trying to be heard above the ear-splitting din of cultural expectation. When he volunteered to inseminate me himself, I laughed. All night, I cycled through my Hail Mary options — my brand-new boyfriend's sperm, my gay male best friend's sperm, anonymous donor sperm, adoption — and berated myself for being in this position to begin with. I was considering having a child by myself in part because I'd been watching other women do it — or rather, one woman in particular: Rachel Grady, the first person in my extended social circle to decide to have a child on her own.
36 came, and I got up one morning and thought, “It’s time.
I have a good job, I own my own place, I have a supportive family and friends.” I looked at sperm banks, but it didn’t feel right to me.