I celebrated my 40th birthday with my parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews. I had a big smile plastered on my face but I couldn’t stop crying. I explained that my eyes were watery because of a cold and got up every few minutes to blow my nose and wipe my face. I vividly recall sitting around a table with people who love me, pretending everything was normal, but feeling the ground drop beneath my feet. I was 40 and I had no spouse or children of my own.
I always believed that age 40 was my deadline for motherhood. The time had come to face facts. My romantic relationships until that point had been short and unstable. I had to consider alternatives. I was scared of the idea of raising a fatherless child, of carrying the financial burden of parenting by myself, and I felt emotionally unprepared to do it alone. I was certain I didn’t want to be a single mother.
I decided to explore co-parenting, an emerging model where parents raise children together, without a romantic relationship between them, in two separate homes. I started my search, imagining my perfect partner who would also become my best friend.
I spotted my first potential candidate at an annual rooftop party my gay brother threw for his friends. One of them expressed interest in exploring the possibility of co-parenting with me. We slowly got to know each other. My fertility tests were positive so we let things flow at their own pace. Nine months later he finally got around to doing his fertility tests. The results were disappointing. He withdrew from the process and I was back at square one.
For over a year, I kept searching for potential partners. I chose them the same way I had chosen romantic partners: poorly! One was so rich that I was intimidated, another had no means at all, and a third liked the idea of being a father but didn’t want to actually raise a child. Time ticked on.
When I turned 42, my gynecologist finally told me, straight-up, that coming in every few months with questions and new prospective partners to go through lab tests, would not bring a child into the world. He told me the time had come to make up my mind. I had to decide whether I wanted to be a mother or not. I was so shocked and offended. I remember marching out of his office, seething, and calling a girlfriend to vent about how furious and upset I was at his comment. But most of all, I was angry at myself. Because I knew he was right.
His inappropriate comment was the wake-up call I needed to hear. With no co-parenting prospects in sight, I finally got hold of myself and opted for the single parent path. For me, It was hard to accept that my child wouldn’t have a father. I wanted my future child to have the choice of knowing at least what their genetic roots were, so I searched for a donor who allowed his name to be revealed after the child turned 18.
Choosing among donors was complicated. I had no idea where to be flexible and what to insist upon. Although my friends were devoted advisors and listeners, they lacked the practical experience I needed. Today, I recognize that donor selection must be a constructive and meaningful experience. I am confident that with proper guidance, the entire process could have been more efficient and less daunting.
I gave birth to my daughter at age 44. I realized then, that the greatest advantage of being a single parent is my autonomy. At every juncture, I am the only one making the decisions. I love the freedom of knowing that at any minute I could pack a suitcase and move with my daughter to live anywhere on the globe. I’ve stayed in the little nest I built for us two, but knowing that it is a choice I am making for us has been important for me all along.
Of course, there is a flipside to everything. Day in, day out, I do everything on my own. I don’t have free evenings. My daughter and I spend all our weekends together, which is fun but also exhausting. Career-wise, I’m limited in terms of work hours, and when she’s sick, I’m the only one on call.
I’m grateful for having explored the co-parenting model, as it has brought me a sense of peace with the path I’ve chosen, sparing me lingering regrets. Looking back, I realize that my two-year quest for a partner could have been significantly shortened with a targeted approach with proper guidance.
Today, I guide women on their journeys to single motherhood. It’s my calling, and the closing of a circle, to be there for anyone fumbling their way along the daunting path of becoming a mother. I support them throughout the process — helping them choose a parenting model, and guiding them through fertility procedures, up until early parenthood. Along the way, I’ve formulated guiding principles about how to decide on a parenting model, a sperm bank, and a donor.
In conclusion, I consider myself incredibly lucky for not allowing my fears stop me from becoming a mother. The radiance and love that my daughter has brought into my life only deepen and intensify with each passing day.
