While I'm willing to talk about a lot of things related to being the solo mom of two, how I got here doesn't tend to be one of them. Frankly, it's really not anyone's business (except possibly my daughters', and I'm not altogether certain of that). That's not to say that people don't occasionally ask intrusive questions or make rude remarks about how my family came into being; it just means that I've never particularly felt the need to acknowledge them when they do.
Today, however, I'm going to violate my personal rule and talk about how I became a solo mom. Twice. Partly because it's good blog fodder, especially for an inaugural post, but mostly because this comment left in response to Kate's post on the topic over at Sanity and the Solo Mom: "Or funny how life throws us birth control too." Because all solo mothers are just immoral sluts who can't keep their legs shut and only breed for the Welfare money, don't you know.
Kate dealt with this beautifully at her own blog, but the thing about motherhood is that we all have different stories of how we got to the place we're in, and Kate's story is not my story just like my story isn't your story. I'm hoping that maybe in sharing our stories we can open some eyes, close some mouths, and continue forcing people to reconsider their perceptions of the average solo mom.
So, my story...
It's actually kind of funny, in a cosmic, the Universe is clearly toying with me kind of way. I call my daughters Diva Girl and the Zen Baby, but I could just as easily have christened them "Ortho" and "Depo" since in a very real way, that's who they are.
I was taking ortho tri-cyclen when I got pregnant with Diva Girl. I was also taking antibiotics. Not a good combination, apparently. Especially not when you and the Rebound Guy have just mutually decided that you're not willing to continue wasting your time with each other anymore.
Three weeks after the Rebound Guy and I bid an indifferent adieu, the stick turned blue. Fabulous timing. I'm sure the Universe was enjoying the joke, even if I wasn't.
Given the relationship status of the non-relationship that had produced that thin blue line, I agonized over what, if anything, to tell the Guy. It wasn't like we were going to have some tearful reunion and decide this was a Sign that we should be together or anything. Plus, he'd moved out of province. It would have been easy to just...not. To carry on with my life, whatever shape I decided it would take, and leave him to carry on with his. But then there was that whole pesky sense of morality that got in the way, and I told him.