Member Articles

Before I took the plunge into that conversation, I thought long and hard about this new family I was about to create, and about what shape it would possibly take. I was committed to being a single mom at that point, but not a solo one. I made it clear to Rebound Guy that if he wanted to be a Dad as well as a father, I would support that. Shared holidays, family birthday parties, neighbouring apartments support it.

He wasn't interested. He didn't want the baby. Felt it would detract from his relationship with the child he already had, that that daughter needed to be his priority. He didn't even want to be notified when the baby was born.

And thus began my life as a solo mom. Just me and my baby, no daddies in sight or mind. And it was good. Sure, it had its hardships and stresses, but it also had giggles and kisses and a sense of contentment and accomplishment.

Fast forward four years and Diva Girl was yearning for a baby sister to call her own. In fact, her fantasy life was so rich that I had to have a meeting with her Kindergarten teacher to assure her that there was no way the stork was coming to our house any time soon.

I was sure you see, because I was on depo provera now. It was the perfect no fuss, no muss option for a solo mom on the go. Just pop by the doctor's office every three months and Bob's your uncle. Or your Daddy, because three months and twelve weeks are not the same thing. Who knew? Well, Diva Girl, apparently.

I'm pretty sure that the Universe peed its collective pants this time, watching me find myself in a nearly identical situation five years after I theoretically should have known better. Once again, a casual affair led to an uncomfortable conversation and it was deja vu all over again. Solo Mom times two.

One thing about having two children on your own without employing the turkey baster method is that people feel that they have the right to ask invasive questions or to make snide comments regarding your inability to grasp the fundamentals of birth control. They don't really do that with the first one, you know. The first time around, everyone is very supportive. Nobody really asks what you were thinking with your first one, or questions your ability to read the instructions on the condom wrapper, or implies that you just can't keep your legs shut. And nobody really congratulates you when you announce you're having your second. They do with your first one, after the shock wears off; with the second, there are words and murmurs, but none of the excitement that normally accompanies this type of announcement.