Becoming A Single Mum By Choice: The Process

Today it started. The process – my process – of becoming a single mum by choice. I’ve no idea how long it will take but I know it’s started. I cycled to the clinic through rush hour in central London… not a good idea as it turns out. At one point a cab driver rolled down his window, “welcome to hell”, he said. It seemed a pretty accurate description, I prayed it wasn’t an omen about the appointment I was heading to.

It turns out I had nothing to worry about. I arrived at the clinic with time to spare. Got out of my cycling gear and tried to make myself look respectable. I’m not sure why, it’s not like it’s a job interview, but still it didn’t seem right not to try to look presentable. After all this is the start of a pretty major life event. Just like before the information evening I attended, I expected to feel nervous, out of place. I was worried it might feel wrong, or at the very least a strange and lonely thing to be doing. It didn’t. As I glanced around the waiting room I realised it was fine. There was a female couple who were friendly and relaxed. We had some cheery banter. It was soon clear that everyone was too interested in their own thoughts to bat an eyelid at me.

The overpowering feeling I had through the whole thing was how right it felt. It felt like the most right thing I’ve done in many years. Speaking to the doctor made it a medical process, it was no longer a moral and personal dilemma about should I, shouldn’t I. Now it was about practicalities, dates and processes. All very matter of fact.

Even having a probe shoved up my vaj didn’t put me off. It was actually very interesting (the pictures on the screen I mean). The doctor pointed out my follicles and ovaries. She showed me my womb lining, which was slightly thinner that she would have liked. We booked another scan for a week later when she expected me to be ovulating, that way they could check if there was anything to be concerned about. I only had a week to wait till I knew for sure if I could try this thing.

Then came the really scary bit. Filling in the paperwork. The one question that worried me most was the one about whether I had had social services involved in my family. I answered honestly. I tried to explain the background to the doctor, worried that she would think this means I’m not suitable to have another child. She didn’t seem overly concerned – the counsellor will go through it with me she said, and that was that. I was on my way home with instructions to await my counsellor appointment.

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I’m not sure if you’ve met me, but I’m not very patient – driven I’d guess you call it. Anyway, I couldn’t wait for them to call so the next day I phoned up and made the counsellor appointment. I felt nervous; this is the bit I’m most worried about. The counselling is to check I have thought everything through. It’s to confirm if I will be able to COPE. That horrible word. What does it even mean? I’m pretty sure I’ve had many times in the past few years that people would describe me as very much NOT coping as a single mum. However, I’ve always kept me and my son alive (and that’s not a blase statement, at times that’s been bloody hard). Does that count as coping? If so then why have I often felt like I’m NOT coping? Yet if all of this has taught me anything it’s that I CAN cope, even if coping includes a LOT of tears. In amongst all these worries though, I felt excited. So very excited.

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Today I went in for my second scan. It turns out my womb lining is fine, it had looked thin on the first scan because it was early in my cycle. The doctor pointed out the follicle that was about to ovulate. She was very complimentary of how it all looked. It felt a little strange, it’s not like I have any actual control over that. But even still, a compliment is hard to come by these days so I couldn’t help but feel a little bit warm and fuzzy inside.