I’ve been wishing I had this piece published on the blog for over two years now, so it’s about time I’ve finally done it! One of the best parts of sharing my story so publicly has been the ongoing messages I still receive from others who are considering becoming single parents by choice too. It feels like every other day I’m connecting with new people who have just stumbled across my account and are either seeking advice, or hoping to delve deeper into the details of my story. With every new DM or email I kick myself for not yet having created a resource with all of the information I’ve put out into the world about my experience in one convenient place. So here it is. You’re welcome future Alyssa!
Now aside from wanting to put all of the links related to my story in an updated roundup post, it also felt like a good opportunity to do a little update and circle back to some of my opinions from early on that have shifted over the past two years and nine months (give or take). Like everyone loves to remind expecting parents, there’s no way to know how much having a baby changes everything, and that rule definitely applies to single parents by choice too! Here’s a bit on what I’ve learned, and a touch of advice for those who’d like to take it too.
It’s ok to have boundaries //
When I first started trying to get pregnant, I was so eager to share my story. I felt so empowered and proud of myself for taking my dreams into my own hands, and I assumed my “why” would really resonate with people who had similar dreams. What I didn’t expect was the focus on the “how” that came hand in hand with sharing my news, and as my story picked up steam, the questions only got more personal. Truth be told I was caught totally off guard, like I was being asked to validate my story by proving that I went about getting pregnant the “right” way. When I was open about using a known donor instead of a clinic, the scrutiny only intensified.
Let me be clear – there is no correct way to become a single mom by choice! Whether you purchase sperm and go through a clinic to be inseminated, DIY getting a known donor’s semen into your body with something you read about on the internet (oh hey menstrual cup), or have wildly enjoyable sex with your (consenting!!!) next door neighbour, you are just as much a SMBC as anyone else who made the choice to dive into parenthood without a partner. I recently had a follower ask via DM’s if Summer was actually even planned because I got pregnant outside of a clinical setting, and though I was a bit offended, it solidified the judgement I’d felt in the passive remarks and endless questions I’ve received since announcing my “non-traditional” pregnancy.
In retrospect, I wish I’d kept the door shut when it came to that part of my journey – it felt private and too sacred to share, but I panicked and answered the questions in the moment as best as I could for fear if I didn’t, those asking would assume I was covering up an accident. No one asks heterosexual couples exactly how they got pregnant – imagine asking someone if they needed clinical help conceiving with their husband? Or what position they were in the moment they conceived? You wouldn’t, because it’s private! Just because the way you got pregnant isn’t “the norm”, or wasn’t necessarily with someone you romantically love, doesn’t mean you owe anyone an explanation! Especially because sharing details when a known donor is involved could jeopardize anonymity. When I get similar questions about DIY insemination now I advise doing your own research online, speaking to your doctor, and following one golden rule: whatever way you feel most comfortable getting semen into your body will probably work just fine!
*not totally related but I recently came across this cute new syringe product specifically created for at-home inseminations and I love that a brand is making that route more accessible / acceptable!
You can prepare, but you won’t ever be fully prepared //
This point applies to ALL parents, not just the SMBC / SPBC folks. I did everything I could think of to prep for having a baby, and for the first few months, it worked. Aside from my unexpected c-section, life with a newborn was blissful – I could work whenever I wanted, she slept very well from day one thanks to the SNOO, I was free to go pretty much anywhere I wanted with her strapped into a carrier on my body, she napped on the go when necessary and breastfed on demand.
But once she started moving, so many of my plans went out the window – a lot of the support systems I had carefully put in place fell through and I hadn’t really made arrangements for daycare or a nanny because I didn’t think I’d need it as someone who works from home and has such a flexible job. The reality is, being a mom is a full time job. Period. Even with a career path I had specifically chased because it was so well suited to being a solo mom while still making a living, I learned the hard way how truly impossible it is to work full time and mother full time without some form of childcare in place. I would call this my biggest blind spot when it came to planning for single parenthood, and I’m still struggling to find a balance that works for us (suggestions welcome – I’ve been on a waitlist for the only affordable daycare I could find over a year and there’s still no availability in sight!)
There’s no such thing as “too soon to tell” //
So much about my journey to motherhood was not traditional, but I did stick to the old “wait until you’re out of the first trimester” to share my pregnancy news, and looking back I wish I’d had the bravery to break that taboo. First off, I think it does birthing people a huge disservice to encourage the isolating practice of keeping a pregnancy secret, when that person is likely to need support and understanding, especially in the case the pregnancy doesn’t make it to term. In other words, we don’t expect parents to stay quiet about miscarriages anymore, so why is it still the norm to keep pregnancies a secret “just in case”?
Building on this point, I also wish I’d had the courage to share how much I wanted children before I started trying. As someone who hasn’t had many long term relationships and spent a lot of her time single, I often felt like my desire to be a mom was misplaced because it’s frowned upon to be open about parenting dreams when you’re single, especially in the hetero world. In an effort to avoid being labelled “baby crazy” and turning off potential partners, I mostly kept quiet about how much I wanted to be a mom, and looking back I regret keeping my goals to myself until they were well underway. I say, let’s normalize people, especially young single women, being open about wanting kids without it being attached to the word “crazy” or becoming a deterrent. If it’s acceptable for women to be anything they want, motherhood shouldn’t be an exception to the rule. It should be just as celebrated to talk openly about wanting to be a mom as it is to talk openly about wanting to run your own business, or be a basketball player, or whatever you care deeply about doing!
Acknowledging my Privilege //
I’m constantly learning, and over the past couple of years I’ve re-examined the way I originally discussed my path to parenthood. When it comes to this conversation it’s important to acknowledge that not everyone is able to make this decision, and that I was able to make it for myself from a place of privilege. Yes I worked hard to get here, yes I built my career on my own and saved up to be able to support myself, but that doesn’t mean being white, cisgender, and non-disabled didn’t impact my ability to make this decision in the first place, and that should always have been a part of the dialogue.
Ready for more? Scroll down for every link related to my story that I could find…
Written on this site //
Written Articles Elsewhere //
*This one is the most recent interview I did, from Spring 2020!
Other Media //
That time my story was up for discussion on The Social
If I’ve missed anything else, please send me the links in the comments and I’ll add to the list!
Photos by Scarlet O’Neill