It only takes one

Recently I offered to write something about the very strange situation of dating while trying to conceive a baby through donor insemination for the Single Mothers by Choice newsletter. I gleaned together a couple of older blog posts from here. This is what I eventually submitted:

It only takes one

"Why are you dating?" a friend asked me one day, almost a year after the end of my last relationship. It struck me as an odd question. I thought, "Why shouldn't I date? I'm a human being. Don't all human beings want an intimate connection with someone?” She knew, of course, that I was also about to start trying to conceive a baby through donor insemination.

No more than a year earlier, at age 37, I had been desperately clinging on to a relationship that felt like my last chance of having the “dream,” the one where you finally meet someone, marry him, have children together, and settle into a comfortable domesticity for happily-ever-after. I had ignored warning signs, avoided the nagging question of whether I really wanted to coparent with this man, and dragged him to couples counseling, only to have things end one night when he finally said “It just isn’t working.” I felt this loss deeply. This was it, my last chance gone; I would be single and childless forever.

Months later, still grieving, still angry, still feeling the weight of intense post-breakup loneliness, I crossed the street behind a young couple who worked together to get their baby stroller onto the curb. A wave of self-pity washed over me. “Why do THEY have this? Why don’t I have this? WHAT is WRONG with me that I don’t deserve this?”

The next morning I sat down for meditation and flipped open Resonate with Stillness, a collection of quotes from Gurumayi Chidvidlasananda, head of a spiritual lineage called Siddha Yoga. That day, I opened to a random page and saw these words:

Nothing comes easily. Some people do have a good destiny. It seems that everything comes to them very easily. But understand that they worked very hard for it in some other lifetime. So there is no need to become jealous or envious of others. You shouldn't feel, 'I am going through such a hard time, and everybody else is getting it so easily.' The crux of the matter is, nothing great comes easily. You have to work for it, you have to put forth effort. It is as simple as that. You must make the effort.

As I contemplated this, I reached some clarity about my situation. Perhaps we all arrive in this world with our respective baggage, and most of it we didn't choose to bring with us. Maybe my burden is heavier than yours; maybe mine refuses to fit in the overhead compartment. Still, envy and self-pity are a waste of time and energy. Comparing yourself to others just to feel inadequate is a waste of time and energy. Should I writhe around in the mire of self-pity my whole life, or instead, make my best efforts to become a better person, teacher, and friend, all in service to the universe that has given me not only my unique baggage but my unique set of blessings as well? I resolved to proceed with a positive attitude towards the life I wanted, one with a family. I began dating and TTC at the same time.

I did not really know how to go about this. I wondered, what do you say to your date? When do you say something? Will it become his weird dating story, to be repeated to all his friends? What if TTC is successful? Do you stop TTC if you meet someone you like? Many around me saw these as separate paths. You either try to meet someone, marry him, and have a child with him, or you go ahead with SMC and forget about dating.

This is probably what makes the "thinking" process of SMC-hood so hard. Many of us do feel like we have to relinquish and grieve the dream, then proceed with the hope that we might, if we are determined, resourceful, fertile, or lucky enough, have something that looks a bit different - single motherhood by choice. So, when I started dating and TTC, I had to clarify my priorities, for myself and perhaps for others baffled by this strange state. It comes down to this:

a) I am 38 and do not wish to wait any longer to have a baby.

b) I would regret missing out on motherhood more than missing out on marriage.

c) I am happy doing this alone; it is better than being miserable trying to do this with the wrong person.

d) I still want to meet someone, fall in love, and share my life with him.

e) That person does not have to be coparent of my baby, but he has to be someone I love and respect.

f) Having a baby could take a few years. Meeting a special person could take a few years. At my age it would be a shame to shut down one of these possibilities right now. So, I find myself in this strange situation of dating while TTC. It often feels like I am paddling upstream while straddling two canoes, each with its own separate sense of direction and momentum.

Once I had a cartoon on my fridge. In the cartoon, a mermaid is floating in the sea and speaking to her friend on the phone. Her speech bubble said "Sure, there are plenty of fish down here. There's also some plankton, a couple of clams, and a sea cucumber."

Within the first few weeks of being in this ocean, I had a sense of what was available. Date #1 was a very smart guy, early 40s, with no job security or health insurance. He could not lease an apartment, so he lived in his late grandma's house. Date #2 was an unemployed musician who revealed that he prefers dating Asian women (he himself is not Asian). This I simply found creepy. Date #3 was a nice, self-employed musician who could not spell or punctuate, despite his degree from Northwestern. He also had some body odor issues.

Date #4 was a nerdy, intellectual type. He was sweet and considerate. I genuinely liked his company, but there was no chemistry. He never tried any expression of physical intimacy other than a clumsy pat on my arm. His poor posture bothered me; Ichabod Crane can be hot, but not Igor! After four dates I felt I still knew so little about him.

The most awkward thing, however, was when he asked why I was going to acupuncture. More than once I had to flub an answer. I am not good at lying and do not like being evasive, but I just did not know him well enough to say that I was going to acupuncture for fertility and that I was about to start donor insemination. At any rate, things fizzled out and we both moved on.

Date #5, a man I never actually met, had an unusual name so I googled him, only to find out he had lied about his age and that a sexual harrassment lawsuit had been filed against him. Date #6 had his own kids and was the only one I told about TTC before we met. He was supportive, and even offered to go see The Backup Plan with me. His taste in movies notwithstanding, he was kind and empathetic. Yet, there was no chemistry and I never saw him a second time. Date #7 was a man with no career direction, and worked only so he could watch movies. We geeked out on films together, talking at length about Sirk and Visconti, but it seemed neither of us wanted to date the other. For my part, I could not get past the fact that he had the face of a 14 year-old and the hands of a 70 year-old.

Through online dating I learned a few things. Men who want to form families look a lot more at women under 35 than over, even if they themselves are in their forties. When I was 34 and online dating, I picked from amongst many men who initiated contact with me. I met my ex-boyfriend almost right away. When we broke up I was 37, and when I reentered the online dating world, the tables had turned dramatically. Almost no men contacted me, and when I took the first step, I frequently never heard back.

Secondly, perhaps I am as undateable as the men I have met, but I am still as picky as ever. Despite the challenges of TTC and dating, I have no regrets about not settling earlier. Sure, I would rather work with fresh sperm than frozen, and have a man around to take care of things that involve furniture, cars, and other large objects. While I am not afraid of doing this on my own, I do feel wistful when I think about never sharing this amazing journey with someone. Yet, I have difficulty seeing myself with someone who cannot spell. While I have the resources to start a family on my own, I still care about whether a man is pursuing a fulfilling vocation and if he can pull his own weight financially.

Of course, I keep trying. What I decided was that if I met someone promising I would tell him when I felt confident that he would treat this with empathy, respect, and compassion. I would consider suspending TTC if we both agreed that there was long-term potential. If he was dating just to date, in that non-comittal way familiar to many women my age, I probably would not even bring it up.

On the day of my first insemination, I was invited to peruse a tiny amount of my donor’s sperm under a microscope. Some of the swimmers were moving quite vigorously, some were completely inert, and yet others were bumping around looking confused, not unlike a person who refuses to ask for directions. As I watched the swimmers I told myself "it only takes one." That is the same thought I have as I navigate the big dating ocean with its plentiful fish, plankton, and sea cucumbers. It only takes one.