The fairytale of independent motherhood

I was in sixth grade when I learned that true love didn’t exist. My parents fell out of love and began hating each other, loudly, in front of me and my siblings. It was around the same time when I started wearing bras and crushing on my best friend’s brother. It’s an understatement to say that it was a confusing time! I decided early on that I wouldn’t get married unless he was some magical prince or a Backstreet Boy—because they wouldn’t dare break my heart. 

That all fell apart when I reconnected with a high school boyfriend during my early twenties. I was a year into a dating strike when he popped right back into my life. Turns out, I was a sucker for a fairytale ideal, plus, he was funny, had blue eyes, and dimples. Our connection was strong in the beginning and I truly believed I had found my person. It wasn’t long before we were engaged to be married. I had a wedding vision board all worked out: We’d be wed outside, under pretty white tents, surrounded by beautiful lilies and loving family; I’d be wearing a lace dress that showed much of my back, and we’d dance the night away. 

Not long into the planning, we were given our first gift… I was pregnant! The fact that we weren’t yet married didn’t matter to me; I was over the moon to be carrying my baby girl. Nine months and one emergency C-section later, she arrived. Sporting a ton of jet black hair, a squishy little face and scrumptious tiny toes, she was absolute perfection. I was a mom! I really did it; I had a family of my own, and I didn’t even need a boyband husband to pull it off.

They say that the first year raising a child together will put your relationship to the ultimate test. (They aren’t lying.) When you already struggle to communicate, adding in a crying baby, sleep deprivation and sore nipples will only make things more difficult. For us, it made things impossible. We didn’t make it.

We separated when my daughter was 1. I worried that meant that my fairytale was over—and that I’d failed my child. For the first little while, I continued to feel that way. 

We went through a custody battle nightmare that nearly destroyed me, but in the end I learned something really valuable.

It took ending my engagement to learn that family doesn’t have to mean mom + dad + kid(s). Family is what you make it. I decided to embrace our little duo and find joy in our situation. We have the best times together. She still is my favorite girl in the whole world. She taught me so much about being a happy person. She helped me heal. Being her sole parent gave me the opportunity to prioritize my own wellness and healing for her sake. She needed and deserved a mom who was happy on her own. She needed a woman to look up to who didn’t require a romantic partner for fulfilment. A woman who is raising her baby on her own, joyfully. 

It was my custody attorney who turned me onto the idea of using a donor to conceive my second child. Once I felt like I was in a better place and had worked through a lot of the trauma, I started to pursue donor conception. 

Christmas Day, 2020, I went in for my third and final intrauterine insemination (IUI) at my local fertility clinic. Everything went routinely, and I headed back home to enjoy the rest of Christmas day with my family. In September 2021, I welcomed my beautiful baby boy. He too had tons of jet black hair and gorgeous dimples just like his big sissy. It was official: I was an independent mom of two! My little family was complete. He fits perfectly into our trio. 

My daughter is 8 now, and my son is 2. Every day I think about how life would have been different for us had I forced my relationship with my ex, or had I decided not to follow my heart and have another baby on my own.

I’m eternally grateful that I stuck to my plan and didn’t let anyone lead me in another direction. 

I’ll be 35 next month and I’m reflecting on the fact that 12-year-old me had no idea what true love was. She was a hurt, scared little girl. Much like 27-year old-me, the age when I got separated. Thankfully, I was given the opportunity to show those younger versions of me that there was nothing to be scared of. True love does exist; you just need to be open-minded and be willing to find it within yourself.