Tick Tock Goes My Biological Clock
Honestly, I never thought it would happen to me. That proverbial clock that everyone talks about… mine had always been silent. Not a tick, nor a tock. At times I wondered if I had one at all.
Someday…
I’d always imagined becoming a mom someday. But motherhood seemed an abstract concept to me, and far off in the distant future. I had too many other things to accomplish first. Grad school, new jobs, traveling, socializing, finding a partner that I could imagine spending a lifetime with and raising children.
My clock remained silent through it all. Through the exhilaration of my achievements; through all my adventures; through the slog of everyday routine; through secret affairs, blind dates, passionate love and colossal heartbreaks. Through 40 years of birthdays. Not a peep from my biological clock.
In 2014, I was feeling at the top of my game. I’d just turned 40, I’d lost over 100 pounds, had just been promoted at work, and was in love with a man who made my heart race and my mind stretch. I was happy and energized and felt more in control of my life than ever before. Life was good!
Adoption
Since high school, I had always imagined I’d grow my family through adoption. Before the days when celebrities made it a thing, I was sure I’d adopt a child from Africa. Since I didn’t feel a strong need to give birth to my child, I always felt like I had options and that time was on my side. But when I turned 40, my clock started whispering to me. I decided the time might be now! I was well established in my career; financially and emotionally stable… I was finally ready.
I attended my first adoption information session in August 2014. I learned a lot in that first session, and ultimately decided that if I pursued adoption, it would be a domestic public adoption rather than international. I kept thinking about it, not quite ready to tackle the mountains of paperwork.
How Many Eggs are in My Basket?
It was around this time that I spoke to my doctor about my plans. He asked why I didn’t look into having a baby through IVF. I didn’t have a good reason, other than pregnancy in general just wasn’t something I felt I needed to do. Being the straight-talker he is, my doc reminded me of my age and made a referral to a fertility clinic ASAP.
I went for a meet-and-greet information session, and left with a thick folder of information. A new mountain of paperwork, plus some pretty uncomfortable procedures… just to find out how many eggs might still be in my basket.
I filed the folder away in my office, and spent some time mulling over my options… like a woman who had all the time in the world.
Best Friend Baby-Making
Quite surprisingly, another path to motherhood presented itself. My best friend and I started talking about having a baby together and co-parenting. I was intrigued by the idea of creating a new life with someone I knew, trusted and loved so deeply. I dove into the research, reading about other co-parenting stories – both successful and nightmarish. I was convinced we could make this work, and I was excited!
I shared the news with my then partner. He was quite a bit older than me and had two children from a previous marriage. In the moment his reaction was everything I’d hoped for. He seemed genuinely excited for me and supportive of my co-parenting plans. He’d met my best friend and thought very highly of him. My future was looking bright, like I need my sunglasses kind of bright!
But the universe keeps us on our toes, right? Just two months later, I was laid off from my job. It was a curve ball to be sure, and it left me reeling. I took some time to just feel low, then brushed myself off and did the work of exploring what next? Within 8 weeks my heady relationship was also deteriorating, and eventually ended in a fiery implosion reminiscent of a tacky rom-com. In a bid to escape the dumpster fire that was my life, I jetted off to Long Beach, California to make a baby with my best friend.
He picked me up from the airport and immediately whisked me off to Catalina Island. We wandered and explored the charming resort town, walking amongst the palm trees hand-in-hand. We were both a bit nervous about how the night of baby-making would unfold. So we stopped at various beach-side bars along the way and got a little more tipsy with each stop. I felt safe and happy to be by his side, but I was still hurting and mourning the loss of my break-up.
When we finally got back to the hotel, we were both much drunker than we’d meant to be. I wasn’t in the right headspace for what we’d planned. I curled up in my own bed and went to sleep feeling sad. Things were awkward in the morning, and to this day I’m not sure if we were feeling disappointment or relief, or a bit of both. Best friend baby-making was a bust.
The Universe Strikes Again (and again)
I returned home after that trip feeling lost but determined to forge a new path. I snoozed my proverbial clock, putting my parenthood plans on hold while I went back to school with the intention of building a new career. I landed a new job, graduated (again), and was starting to regain footing in my new career. And then the f-ing universe struck again…
In 2018 both my parents were experiencing serious health issues. I was living across the country at the time and kept in touch with them by phone most days. They were endlessly relaying tests results and secondhand doctor’s reports. I got the sense they were downplaying things so I wouldn’t worry too much. I could hear the stress in my sister’s voice, each time we talked. She was feeling the pressure of being the “local” daughter, and shouldering all of the doctor’s appointments, grocery shopping, cleaning, and day-to-day support. I kept plugging away at rebuilding my career and my nest egg.
By early 2019 my Dad had taken a serious turn. I packed some clothes and my Great Dane in my Honda Civic and drove four days across the country. My Dad passed away a week later. We were all heartbroken and in a daze. Five months later we lost my Mom. My life had blown up again, and I was acutely aware of how quickly life can slip by.
I am blessed to come from a long line of highly resilient and independent women. And so I pivoted again. I quit my job, sold my house and moved across the country to be closer to my sister and help with lengthy list of items required to close an estate. I found a wonderful new job, purchased my childhood home, and grieved the loss of my parents (and my sweet Great Dane, who sadly passed around the same time).
As you well know, the universe served us all a giant curveball in March 2020. No explanation needed for that strange period of limbo we experienced during the global pandemic. For nearly two years I sat alone in my house, clad in sweatpants on the bottom, work-appropriate attire on top, and dialed in to endless zoom meetings, just like you probably did. I found joy in creating epicurean delights and eating them on my couch while watching bad TV.
Adoption 2.0
It was during the pandemic that I felt the pull to motherhood once again. My clock was ticking forcefully now, I could hear it loud and clear! It was time to revisit the idea of adoption. In August 2020, almost 6-years to the day of my very first information session, I restarted the adoption process in a new province. It’s a long journey of paperwork, meetings, hours and hours of training, home study visits, webinars and waiting. So much waiting. I was finally approved for adoption in December 2021 and looked forward to soon welcoming a child in the age range of 6 – 12 years.
Shedding Some Weight, but Still Waiting
While I had survived the pandemic and the journey to become Adopt Ready, I emerged from social distancing having regained almost all of the weight I’d lost years earlier. Holy poodle! Now I was motivated to embark on my second major weight loss journey, and let me tell you folks, it’s definitely harder in your 40s! My doctor prescribed an injectable medication called Saxenda, which I took for 6 months, and lost 40 pounds. Then I participated in a medically supervised weight loss program based on meal replacement shakes, and lost another 40 pounds.
Feeling great and ready to welcome a child at any time, I was starting to get impatient with waiting for an adoption match. After some sleuthing and research, I came to the disappointing conclusion that there is a very small number of children waiting to be adopted from the public system in my region, and hundreds of approved families hopefully waiting to adopt. The numbers were not in my favour. This, of course, is wonderful news for those kiddos… but disheartening information for me to learn after investing so much time, energy and hope into my adoption dreams.
My clock was no longer ticking. It was now screeching that obnoxiously loud ringing alarm that refuses to stay snoozed. I really want to be a Mom.
Putting Someone Else’s Eggs in my Basket
Fast forward to present day. I’ve made my way to a new path towards motherhood. I’m now 47 years old. I’m the proud Mom of donor sperm and donor eggs, and I’m preparing for an embryo transfer very soon. That’s right folks! This plus-size, advanced age, single lady is going to have a baby all on her own.
I’m thrilled and terrified all at the same time, which many of my Mom-friends tell me is completely normal. Please join me on this new journey and I’ll share my experiences with you… the good, the bad, the ugly and the beautiful of being a big, old, indie Mom.
