I wrote this in November 2019, two months before my child was born. Almost five years later, I’m still exploring different types of relationships and figuring out what makes the most sense for me (and my child).
It can require a lot of energy and processing, and if I’m dating someone who’s not invested as the same level, it can be incredibly draining.
But worth the effort? Hey, I’m still optimistic about love.
Dating has been interesting. Since deciding four years ago that I wanted to have a child solo, it’s often the first thing I bring up in a potential dating situation. The way people have reacted to this varies drastically: some assume I’m seeking a co-parent (despite my insistence otherwise) and either offer themselves for the role or back away for fear of looming commitment; others treat it as a quirky personality trait that I happen to have and don’t see themselves as remotely implicated.
It’s hard for me to know how much to invest in someone, and I imagine it’s hard for them to know how much to invest in me, given the circumstances. We both know, even if we don’t discuss it explicitly, that everything will change once I have a child of my own.
Until recently, the situation was purely theoretical, and yet it was always part of the equation because, contrary to the conventional route, I knew I had to become a parent BEFORE I could settle into a romantic partnership.
Why is that? Well, to put it plainly, I haven’t had the greatest success with relationships – especially if longevity serves as predominant criteria. What if I have a child with someone, and then we break up soon afterwards? What if that person becomes abusive and manipulative, and then we have to share custody for the next eighteen years? I’ve witnessed way too many of these situations, and they terrify me.
So yes, the choice to do this solo is partly fear based. But it’s also realistic. When I started my journey with the Children’s Aid Society last year, they asked me if I was dating anyone. I said, yes, I’d been dating someone for the past two months. They said, okay, you have to move in with this person, and live with them for two years, and then you can reapply together. So I said, okay, I’m not dating anyone then. And, as far as CAS is concerned, I’ve been celibate ever since…
I’m not going to let my relationship status determine whether or not I can have a child. And I’m not going to wait another two years or more to adopt with a partner when there’s no guarantee it’ll work out. Becoming a parent is my priority, and as much as I love love love falling in love and everything that comes with it, I’m willing to wait until I’m a little more settled into my role as a solo parent before pursuing anything too seriously.
Interestingly, through this process, I seem to have consistently attracted people who identify as polyamorous, or non-monogamous. Perhaps it’s because their comfort level with ‘sharing’ partners allows for them to feel more comfortable with the idea of me having this separate journey outside of our relationship. We can still talk about it, but they don’t assume this process belongs to them just because it belongs to me. Which is not to say that a person who prefers monogamy can’t be supportive in the same way, but the unconventional nature of polyamory does facilitate an appreciation for and understanding of multiple relationships coexisting both in relation to and separate from one another.
I don’t yet know what my future family will look like. But I do know that it’s going to start with this child.
Jessica Ruano 