Four years ago this month I conceived my first child by a non-medicated, interuterine insemination. I hadn’t been a Thinker for long. Or perhaps, I had been a Thinker my whole life. The certainty that I would never marry and have children was something that haunted my thoughts since I was in my early twenties. Until I separated the two life events, becoming a mother seemed all but hopeless. I thought about it only in terms of what would never be.
For over a decade, I mourned the loss of what came so easily to most women: a family. Once I gave myself permission to research the possibilities of single motherhood, things happened very quickly. Within a month I had read everything I could find on the topic. I began contacting adoption agencies. The official responses were consistently negative. A social worker at a domestic agency said to me, “No birthmother will ever choose you.” She referred me to an international agency. That agency agreed to take me on but later contacted me to say that their published fees would double since I was single.
I began to worry that if I spent all my time and savings on an unsuccessful adoption attempt, I wouldn’t be able to pursue other options.I quickly changed gears and contacted several fertility centers. I wanted to find a clinic that not only accepted single women as patients, but welcomed them. I found a wonderful doctor with a warm and caring staff. The positive reception and communication was a wonderful change from the pessimistic adoption agencies. These people believed I could and would be a mom.
When I became pregnant that summer, I had a hard time believing it. It was a thrilling secret and a terrifying concept. I had wanted my life to change and now, well, was it ever! More than once, I compared my situation to having to run in order to catch a departing train, hopping aboard seconds before it left the station. Once safely seated, I wondered if I was headed in the right direction. What was this train’s destination? Where would we end up? By the start of my second trimester, I was certain I had taken the correct route to motherhood. I’ve never looked back since. I did do a little more Thinking, though. Two years later, I returned to the station for another passenger.
Lara at www.bubbynme.blogspot.com