This article originally appeared in the May 2016 issue of SELF.
It was my ob/gyn calling.
My stomach immediately jumped into my throat.
Lilly Roadstones / Getty
Without much time to explain, I asked the yogi to hold my hand.
I answered, my whole body shaking.
Your results are in.
Oliver Munday
It had worked.I was so happy, I couldnt even find words to express my gratitude.
Hands trembling, I called my parents and sister, who cried with joy.
My mother reminded me, as she always does, that theres a halo above me.
I simultaneously rolled my eyes and beamed.
We shared gleeful good-byes.
Starving already, I was off to enjoy a triumphant falafel.
Thats when I got a text from British Marcus*.
I had completely forgotten.
And I had a hot date that night.
Could I do both?
The answer, I decided, was yes.
Because: my life, my rules.
Maybe Id meet a single father or a modern romantic like me.
And if not, no harm done, right?
But what to tell them?
This was a no-brainer.
I never hesitated in telling the truth about my storyto anyone.
After all, Im proud that I did this.
I could live with being single, but everything about my childlessness felt wrong.
So I did it my wayand I call that guts.
If anyone wanted to call it weird, well, they werent welcome on this journey with me.
I decided that after a couple of minutes of banter, Id tell them I was expecting.
That seemed like a fair plan for everyone.
This is where I learned something crucial about life: rejection is best served with ice cream.
So…youre divorced?
I found myself endlessly explaining my choices to guys I didnt even want to go out with anymore.
One of them was extra put off.
He called me sneaky for not disclosing my pregnancy right away.
Still, what he described as his sense of betrayal struck me as extreme.
I felt disappointedI thought wed clickedbut mostly protective of myself and the little one inside.
Other guys acted flirty and intrigued but then would go MIA.
Not to mention, Sexy Pregnant Me was much better in person.
Aaron seemed to delight in every detail of my story.
He came across as sophisticated and neuroticvery New Yorky.
He was also captivated by my cravings.
I wore a high-waisted sundress, and my big bump was outshone only by my new double-D chest.
We bonded over our views on the public school system (yes, just!)
and natural childbirth (no, thank you!
)and after dinner, Ryan kissed me long and hard.
It felt great, but I was entering my third trimester and needed to take it easy.
I told him Id call him when the baby was out.
After that, I was huge, sweaty and slammed with work.
She was prettier than I ever imagined and more elegant than a newborn has any right to be.
(She crossed her legs and wore a cashmere beret at 2 days old.
The nurses called her Nicole Kidman.)
Actually, my new life was kind of a blast.
Hazel and I memorizedGoodnight Moonand binged-watchedHouse of Cards.
We took long, contemplative walks and got lattes every morning.
Of course, there was plenty of hard stuff, too.
Sleep training herwhat seemed like hours of crying it outfelt positively traumatic to endure alone.
And then there was the nonstop schlep of it all.
Strollers plus subways plus stairwells are no day at the beach, especially when youre solo.
Id look at Hazelespecially in her innocent deep sleepand it just felt like the sweetest prayer.
It makes me believe in halos (you win, Mom!).
And one day, I would really like to have someone to share those shivers with.
Because this experience is just too powerful to go it alone.
Im still single, but I do like someone.
Hes supersweet about my daughter, though Ive definitely met guys who cant handle the kid thing.
Because, maybe, love begets love.
I sure hope so.
At least I finally have more of a sense of what Im looking for.
