Wanted: Baby Daddy
My quest to get pregnant without getting a boyfriend.
by Nan Mooney
March 18, 2009
On top of that you want a decent genetic backdrop -- the recovering heroin addict with two alcoholic parents was out. And though he didn't need to be an astrophysicist who sidelined as a male model, smart and funny and reasonably good looking would all be pluses, too.
Think hard. How many men do you know how fit the criteria?
I knew one: Zachary.
The angsting I did about who and how took up years, perhaps a necessary period of grieving for that vision of having children the traditional way. But when I tell the story now, people are far more interested in the practical details: Who's your baby daddy? How did you ask him? How long did it take to conceive?
The who is confidential -- a secret held between him, his ex-girlfriend, myself and our son. I knew him pretty well. We'd joked and flirted, shared meals and the occasional movie. I wanted that familiarity with my child's father. An even casual knowing felt far preferable to ordering him up from a vial. For one, it was quicker and cheaper. But, on a deeper level, I wanted my child to spring from an act of -- if not passion -- at least fun and laughter.
The most awkward part of it all was the asking. I kept trying to pin Zachary down for a drink but his work schedule and mine seemed permanently incompatible. So finally I cornered him in the lobby of the gym we both frequented and spoke fast before he could interrupt.
So I've been thinking it makes sense to do things out of order, kid first, then the man.
"I know we've talked about relationships and how hard they are in New York." Deep breath. " So I've been thinking it makes sense to do things out of order, kid first, then the man."
Cut to Zachary looking completely baffled.
"I was wondering if you'd consider being the father of my child."
Cut back to Zachary. Puzzlement replaced by shock.
"Wow. That's not what I was expecting." We both blushed.
"I guess I have to think about it."
Zachary and I met again a week later, the longest week of my life until that point (since replaced by the week I spent waiting for amnio results). He'd told me on the phone that he thought he could do what I'd asked, but he did have some questions. Questions are healthy, I tried to convince myself. They mean he's viewing this as a genuine commitment. Just say yes to whatever he wants, I thought. Just get him into bed and make him stay.
©2009 Babble
About the Author
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Nan Mooney's third book, (Not) Keeping Up With Our Parents: The Decline of the Professional Middle Class, comes out in May. She lives in Seattle with her son Leo and lots of rain. |
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