Single Mom Diaries: And Baby Makes Two
We all grew up believing the fairy tale: You meet Mr. Right and soon after,
start having kids. But what if he never comes along? What if things don't go as
planned and time starts running out? Meet the new breed of single mom.
I GOT PREGNANT BY MY TRAINER
By Kimberly Forrest
You know that old saw about jumping on a plane at a moment's notice? That
was me. Positano. Kyoto. Istanbul. Paris. It might sound like an oxymoron, but
a sense of freedom has been my life's organizing principle. I've developed a
solid reputation as a freelance fashion writer, making a good living and
working out of my rent-stabilized apartment in New York City's West Village.
I'd often find myself thinking, What more could I want?
In the fall of 2006, I'd just gotten out of a serious relationship and
turned 40, and I thought that casual might be just the thing. (Read: I was
scared to feel anything poignant and lovely and painful again.) Enter Luis, my
kickboxing instructor. He was young and exciting, and after dancing in the ring
for months, we started dating. Our fling was lighthearted and fun — he joined
me at a spa for New Year's, and in March we went to a wedding in Brazil. The
trip was gorgeous, but by that time our relationship was on the wane.
Fast-forward a month-and-a-half, and my period is late. We'd used
protection, but clearly not carefully enough. I take back-to-back pregnancy
tests at the home of my friend Jean — they're both positive. She yelps with joy
while I, stricken, squeeze limes for a watermelon margarita.
Until now, my idea of a time line for having kids had been, "Maybe in 10
years." But I'm 41 and filled with fibroids. I have endometriosis and
survived a bout of thyroid cancer in my 20s. What are the chances of ever
conceiving again? I take a teeny sip of the margarita and, without thinking
twice, know that I am going to have the baby, with or without Luis.
The next day, Luis stops by my apartment, and I tell him I'm pregnant before
he closes the door. He sinks into the sofa. "I don't want to get
married," he says.
"Neither do I," I reply, knowing that no matter what happens between
us, I am keeping this child. I tell Luis that he can do whatever he wants — be
a father to our child or not — and that I won't resent his decision. (Naive?
Perhaps, but that's how I felt.)
"You know that I never wanted to have kids," he says. "And
certainly not right now. But if you want to have the baby, I'll do whatever I
can to support your decision." Translation: "You're mostly going to do
this on your own, and I'm not a bad guy."