Naila: I'm single and pregnant. Translated, that means, not married, one name on my lease. And no, the father didn't bronze my pee stick. He's my hot friend that I've slept with here and there, heavy emphasis on the here and there, for the last fourteen years. We tried the traditional dating and never lasted for more than a month, yet have a definite bond that everyone else talks about even when we've been oblivious. The morning after the night of the "deed" (feel free to insert a more graphic term suitable to your imagination and taste) I called him and informed him that we had to cease and desist (aka no more nookie nookie). He agreed and I called my best friend, excited that we finally had agreed to leave each other alone.
A few weeks later the flashing preggers appeared on the digital stick. Contrary to what you might think up to this point, I don't advise single parenthood as a first choice. Any mother will tell you motherhood is a dual position in an optimum environment. Going it alone requires a measure of insanity and fortitude not easily found in the female population, but readily available within me.
15 weeks into this pregnancy, everything has been ideal. My emotions are constant and cheerful -- thanks now to my love of everything food. Especially ranch dressing. I talk to the dad a little more often now, even discussing names and parenting styles. We don't hate each other and he will be a present father, dare I say, a wonderful dad.
I'm not bothered by the stares or the silences that come with my announcement or the lack of real joy because of my single status. I'm 40 and thankfully haven't worried too much about public opinion since tenth grade when I dropped the baton during the state championships in the 4 x 400 relay. My exuberance doesn't mean I lack fear or sadness, it only conveys what my mom has always told me.
"What you feel is most of what you are."
And I feel blessed.
Even single and pregnant.