Category Archives: single mother by choice

Motherhood – Part 1

Thinking woman looking up on many question signs above head isolated34…single…female…The age keeps changing, but the relationship status does not. It’s been quite a while since I’ve been in a long-term relationship. While I desire a partner in life, a best friend to spend my days with, what I yearn for even more is motherhood. It’s not just a yearning from the heart, but I feel it from my ovaries…from the center of my being.

Throughout college and adult life, I have gone back and forth on what type of career I want to have and whether I even want to have a career at all. The one constant has always been that I want to have children. I want to bear at least one child and then possibly adopt. A mother is what I feel I was meant to be above all else..

At some point in my mid to late 20’s I decided that if I hadn’t met

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Mother’s Day – My Son Is Grown

Mother’s Day is my favorite day of the year.  I look forward to it for months.

Why is it such an important day to me?  For a good part of my adult life, I wanted to be a mother, but as I got older, I worried that it might not happen for me.  I hadn’t met the right man to marry, so how could I become a mom?  But then, one day, I realized that even though I hadn’t found my life partner, I could be a single mother by choice.  There was even an organization that provided support and information to women like me: Single Mothers by Choice, for women who were mature, ready for motherhood, but single.  It WAS possible.  Months later, I had made my dream a reality.  I was a mother.

Motherhood was the joyous center of my life for many years.  I had enjoyed

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Alone — But Not Alone

When you become a Single Mother by Choice, you expect to do a lot of things alone. In fact, a lot of the thinking and trying stage seems ALL about being alone. Deciding alone to go for it. Attending fertility appointments alone. Being pregnant alone. Most of us have supportive friends and family, but when we hang up the phone, log off the chat, close the door, climb between the sheets, lay in the dark, we are alone again.

Thank God I’m one of those people who think that’s a good thing. Being alone through my journey has meant I’ve been able to take it at my own pace. I’ve been happy when I wanted to be happy, grouchy when it felt right, pregnant and lazy and elated and calm. Whenever I wanted, I felt what I needed to feel, did what I needed to do, with no one to

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The Question Gets Asked…

question markIf you are an SMC, you know the question to which refer. I’ve waited anxiously for my son to ask the Daddy Question. Everything I’ve read says our young children are eager to know more about their unique family structure and origins. As soon as they learn the name for people in their home and for the people in their friends’ homes, children are supposed to ask. So I waited. I prepared. I rehearsed. You wouldn’t think it would take this much planning just to present the truth. I came up with my script. I wrote out the words. I revised them as I practiced the conversation. I bought picture books that other moms said were good for telling and talking. I read those books to Henry. He much preferred The Cat in the Hat and Goodnight Moon. I waited some more. When would he ask? When would he want

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Birth Plan B

All that I could say while being lifted into the ambulance was “she can’t come now, she can’t come now.” The doors closed and I could think of nothing but the little girl inside of me. I was in premature labor at 28 weeks pregnant.

When I arrived at the hospital the paramedics rushed me down the hallway. As I lay on my side on the gurney to ease the pain, the look of concern was reflected in the strange faces of people that lined the emergency room. I stopped briefly at a desk to receive a bracelet that simply said “Kim.”

A nurse and very young doctor were waiting in a room. As I answered their questions, more people and large machines arrived. They shouted at each other and to me. I was embarrassed. I apologized because I was not prepared. I told them that I was taking a

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My Choices and My Son’s Choices

I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately, in several different contexts. One significant example is the issues that arise out of the fact that we’ve started getting into more specific details about conception. It was a non-issue for my son to find out, or more accurately, have confirmed that the donor is his biological father, although I will admit that I haven’t emphasized that specific phrase. But I have mentioned it and also do talk at more length about the fact that the donor is the man who gave the sperm that fertilized my egg to create a baby.

I think kids take their cues from us on this sort of thing so I have tried hard to be very matter of fact about it all and present it as neutrally as possible, while still making it clear that I think a mom and kid family is terrific. And

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Losing the First Tooth

Samuel got his first loose tooth last night. It is wiggly and it hurts a bit and Samuel is thrilled and I am sad. OK, I know it is ridiculous. The timing is actually on the late end to lose his first tooth –he will be seven next month. He has a couple of friends who lost their first tooth at age four and many at age five and six so it is about time (in his mind anyway)!

Nevertheless, I feel like the last vestige of Samuel’s babyhood is going. It really seems like he has changed more in the last year (age 6 to 7) than any other single year since infancy. In fact, in many ways, he was remarkably stable in his personality, traits, play and interests between about age three and six. Now he has left those things behind. No more pretend games, no more Playmobil,

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The Adoption “Gestational Period”?

I’ve spent over a year participating in and listening to the Trying to Conceive (TTC) posts on the SMC Forum. I even had my own failed attempt at TTC  and then work, school, and dating postponed my plans until a year later.  I began to consider adoption, an option I had explored before but ignored once I found Mr. Perfect Anonymous Donor and built up the courage (and money) to TTC. But once I really delved into the adoption choice again, it seemed very feasible and appropriate for where I am in my life. Plus, I thought it might be “easier”than TTC.

On the TTC forum, I had read other women’s journeys through infertility and fertility treatments and miscarriages to finally bringing home a newborn sometimes years later. Well, now that I’m pursuing adoption, I realize the adoption journey isn’t exactly “easier”, just different than TTC. There are many preparations

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The Magic of Mom’s Bed

sweet dreams I don’t know what it is about mommy’s bed. But apparently, when a child can’t fall asleep, the only place to go is mom’s bed—and like magic, the sandman comes and knocks said child out. What I found out recently is that it doesn’t even have to be your mom. Marshall was having a friend sleep over the other night. Both boys were snoring happily by about 10 p.m. and I blithely went to bed. About 1 a.m., I sensed a presence by bed. It’s Max saying he can’t fall asleep so I groggily tell him to climb in. He’s asleep in seconds. When I awake in the morning, there’s a boy in bed next to me. No big surprise. But it takes me a minute to realize it’s not mine.

I never intended to co-sleep. But Marshall had other plans. From the minute he was born, he liked to

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No One

IMG_5173As I sit here tonight going through pictures of Tate, ‘checking’ Facebook, deleting some emails, I am overwhelmed by the quiet of my home. Tate has been in bed since 7, and Vincent is still not pleased with me over his visit to the vet yesterday.  I looked around and just became insidiously aware of my aloneness. Every. Single. Night.  Once Tate is asleep I do have a myriad of things to accomplish before I can rest and just be. I have to clean up the dirty dinner dishes, clean out his lunch bag and backpack and put all those items into the dishwasher or clean them.  There’s always laundry to be done, picking up after Tate (and the cat), dishwasher to be emptied, bills to pay and showers to take.   But it’s all done alone.  

Just me. 

No one to share the details of my day with.  No one

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