Hot to Cold

Ironically after my Mom going on and on about the measles (there was apparently an outbreak in Burlington or something. Mom I haven't even been to Burlington lately! Anyway...) Michelle suddenly had a big red dot in the middle of her forehead. It looked a little like a pimple. It had a white head with a red circle around it. I didn't even know what measles looked like. She only had the one dot. I didn't think you could get "measle" singular. In any event I wasn't taking any chances and made an appointment to take her to my family doctor immediately (no more walk-in clinics for us after meeting Dr. Disagreeable last time.) Of course by the time we made it to the doctor a few hours later, the red dot had vanished as if by magic. I felt a bit silly and hypochondriacal (is that even a word?!) but I thought it can't hurt to have her checked out anyway. It had been a while.

The doctor was quite impressed that when she called Michelle, Michelle walked into the office by herself! "She's walking early?!" Doc exclaimed. The secretary got up from her desk to check it out. "She's walking really well!" She has been getting a lot of practice and her steps are getting much steadier.

The doctor checked Michelle out and she was healthy overall. Her temperature was normal. It didn't look like there were any teeth breaking through her gums. The doctor said she might just have a little case of the sniffles and it would go away on its own. The dot was probably just a heat rash or something. Michelle's skin is so sensitive. I was relieved that Michelle seemed to be doing better, whatever it was. Teething or common cold. Aside from her fever going down there was a break from the heat weatherwise too which was a huge relief for both of us.

Then we went for a visit with friends (Cathy, Rosie and Gwen) and as we sat outside Michelle's nose started to run. We thought maybe it was allergies because her nose hadn't been running at all before that. That night it turned into a full blown cough and cold. She was up all night screaming, coughing, her nose running like a tap. Brutal. Then of course I was sneezing too. Runny nose. Cough. It was awful. Michelle was uber-cranky and would barely sleep at night or nap in the day for the next couple of days. Though I had been trying to wean her prior to all this, since she's been sick I've been nursing her through the day again. It's a comfort thing and I also know from the doctor that breast milk is full of antibodies to help her fight off the cold. Since I'm sick as well my body would be producing even more antibodies. It figures when I only have another week off with her before I return to work that we are spending it sick. I hope it goes away soon.

At least we did have a nice visit with the girls. It had been months since they'd seen Michelle and I. They were surprised she was walking so well already.

Sitting on a blanket on the grass keeps Michelle from wandering off because she's still afraid of walking on the grass. I tried to tell her that it feels nice on your bare feet but she just shook her head and screamed when I tried to place her little feet on the grass so I didn't push. At least it's one way to keep her in one place now that she's running amok and getting into everything most of the time. I want her to get used to grass though. Sand will be another hurdle. I have to get her used to it before our first trip to a real beach so she doesn't freak out there (though I guess I could just carry her to the water.)

Michelle is becoming very headstrong. She wants things her way instantly and gets quite angry if things don't go right (I don't know WHERE she gets that from! OK I do. My Mom says my sister and I were the same.) She will pick things up -- like a container with a lid -- and she wants to be able to screw the lid on and off herself and if she can't she throws a tantrum. My Mom says it's because she's so bright. She's driven to learn. She wants to figure things out. She wants to be able to do everything right now. Walking has given her a sense of independence. As long as I stay in one spot she'll leave the room knowing she can come back to me when she's ready. She doesn't like it if I try to leave though. I've taken her to see my Mom a few times so she'll be used to seeing her a lot. She does feel more comfortable with Mom which is a relief since she's my child care when I go back to work soon.

I'm amazed at how much Michelle knows and understands. Sometimes I test her just for fun. I'll ask her "Where's the pink ball?" and I'm not even sure she knows the colour pink or what a ball is because I haven't asked her before but she'll walk past all the toys on the floor and get the pink ball. She even started trying to put shapes in the shape sorter. She even had the right shape (the star) to go in the right star-shaped hole but she couldn't quite turn it around right to get it in so she got mad and threw it. Even when I'm not speaking to her she listens to conversations and if there's a word she knows, she responds to it. Anytime anyone says "head" even on TV she touches her head. She waves "Hi" and "Bye" to everyone (even characters on TV) with a cute little italian backwards hand wave that I love. I'm constantly praising her "Clever girl!" and she claps her hands and looks quite proud of herself. My Mom says it's like having a baby me all over again. Curious. Affectionate. Moody. Demanding.

Rosie asked me if Michelle was a snuggler. "Yes she's very affectionate. She snuggles with me and with her toys, especially her favourite monkey." Gwen apparently isn't snuggly at all. Every baby is different. I don't know if it's nature or nurture -- most likely a combination of the two. I have always showered Michelle in attention and affection so that has probably taught her to be a hugger. One thing she definitely didn't get from me (perhaps a little of her father's evil. He never hit me but he had a scary temper and we had some terrible fights) is a violent streak. Sometimes she'll hit me. I'll look shocked and she'll laugh and do it again. I'll say "That's not nice! Don't hit Mama! Poor Mama!" She probably senses I'm not really mad. It's usually hard to stifle a laugh actually though once in a while it does hurt. As soon as I show disapproval she'll lean her head on me and go "Awww." So manipulative. (Her Dad to a tee! Do something to hurt you then do something sweet so you forgive him.) "That doesn't make up for it!" I tell her. But it actually does. When she hugs me and nuzzles against me I could forgive her anything. Yeah, I'm a sucker.

After our visit I asked Michelle "Remember the black cat at Cathy's house?" and she reached for her black cat book (it looks like a stuffed cat but it opens up to a little board book which is mildly disturbing now that I think of it. Hopefully she doesn't think all cats open up with a story inside.) She understands so much more than I expect that my Mom said "You better be careful what you say now." Sometimes Mama loses her patience (with drivers on the road etc) and I step out of Disney Rated G mode for a moment. She still chatters away in her own little language which often sounds like French. The only really intelligible word that stands out is "Mama." She says it differently now. Plaintively. It tugs at my heartstrings. Even when she's being difficult. I will never tire of hearing it.

As we approach July I'm realizing that this 8 post a month quota I had set for myself (I'm not sure why. I just wrote 8 posts in the beginning and then felt like I should be consistent. I wanted to keep a record of Michelle's first year as a baby and there was usually something new to write about every few days.) is going to be close to impossible. I will definitely want to write a post about Michelle's first birthday in late July. I may write one or two posts a month but with my return to work and other things going on in my life I'm not sure I'll be able to blog as much. And part of me thinks maybe we'll just "go off the grid" so to speak. I reveal so much about our lives here and maybe I shouldn't. It's a window into our lives and makes it too easy for someone to watch Michelle growing up from a distance if he chose to. Frankly I don't think he has the right to know anything about her. I'm not sure he does read this. I try to think if it were me, I'd be too curious not to (then again if it were me I would NEVER be able to abandon my own child in the first place). Or maybe it would be too painful. Perhaps he wants to just forget. Or maybe he really doesn't care.

There was one day I was driving with Michelle and I looked at her in the rearview mirror. She looked back at me. She wasn't playing, wasn't fussing, was just sitting quite still for a moment and she looked older and wiser than a baby somehow. Suddenly I got a chill. It was Mike. She looked so much like him it was as though he were staring at me himself. Those beautiful blue eyes that cast a spell on me back in the Fall of 2011. Then she smiled and grabbed her toes and she was my little girl again. For all his flaws, I really can't completely hate her father, he has given me the greatest gift of my life. I can't believe she's turning 11 months in a day and 12 months next month. The past year has flown by in the blink of an eye. I am grateful to have photos, videos and this blog to remember so many happy moments.

She may run hot and cold. She may exhaust me physically, emotionally and in every conceivable way. She may drive me crazy 50% of the time but she is without a doubt the most wonderful, most beautiful, most incredible thing that ever happened to me. She is my love. She is my life.

The Ottoman Empire

Michelle can stand for several seconds holding onto the ottoman. She likes to "walk" around (with me, hunched over, guiding her and my back is definitely paying the price!) and cruise down the hallway or move from one ottoman, stool, couch -- or any other object of the right height -- to the next. She wobbles like a drunk old man leaving a pub, staggering and holding on to things. It's only a matter of time, I suppose, before she can do it on her own and then a whole other world of stress will begin. As much as my back could use the break, I know that once she is truly mobile, I'm in serious trouble. I still have to install the baby gates, remove all the breakables and put plugs and child safety closures on everything. I've been reading "What to Expect the First Year" and it has me REALLY stressed out. Things I never would have thought about, like those door stopper spring thingys that go boing -- apparently the plastic part can come off and is a choking hazard? I really don't know what I'm going to do short of removing everything from my home. Even with that, the main floor is hardwood and ceramic tile. Very unforgiving when she falls. Though I changed out my glass coffee table with a storage ottoman, there are still other hard surfaces and corners to bump into. I can't cover everything with padding. Even in her nursery she could bang her head on the dresser or bookcase. She's already been scooching around, pulling herself as opposed to crawling and I've had to stop her short before she banged her head on something. My stress level is starting to rise.

I got a video of her walking with me down my hallway. She has been practicing her steps at my sister's place and mine. She was almost running for a while here but she seems to have slowed down somewhat. Or maybe she was a little camera shy (any time I try to capture something on video she won't do it. I should try to hide the camera!) Here is the video on Youtube:

I kept waiting for things to get easier. In some ways they had. She was behaving better in the car and out in public, not fussing as much. She sleeps for the most part in the car and even when she wakes up seems interested in looking out the window. She was eating well and sleeping well. Her new routine was oatmeal at 7 pm and then nursing her at 8 pm after which she'd fall asleep and only wake up to nurse and go back to sleep every few hours. Amazing! I could actually get things done. Until suddenly one night she woke up after five minutes (while I was trying to grab a shower) and wouldn't settle down until midnight. Then she still woke up at the crack of dawn. The next day she was cranky all day and rubbing her eyes but wouldn't sleep. She finally had a nap mid-afternoon but still seemed out of sorts. Maybe there's too much going on in her mind. She's trying to take it all in. She's on the verge of one of the biggest steps of her life -- her first actual steps on her own. Right now she has me and my aching back to hold her but I can tell she wants to move on her own.

She is developing an independent streak. She gets frustrated when she wants to do something and can't. She tries to do things herself. She loves sipping water from her sippy cup. She tries to do it herself but usually ends up pouring it all over herself. When I ask "Do you want some water?" she kicks her legs and shakes her fists and smiles from ear to ear. I've never seen anyone get so excited over water. You'd think she was in the desert. I guess just because it's different. She was relegated to warm milk for 6 months so I guess a nice cold glass of water is a welcome change. Though she doesn't seem to like variety when it comes to food. She hates just about everything now (even things like green beans which she used to like) except cereal, sweet potatoes and pears. I tried experimenting with different foods. Broccoli was her least favourite to date. I should have snapped a picture of the face she made. One day it even made her cry. Each new food I give her for 3 days to test for allergy. A lot of them I just won't bother to buy again because she won't eat them. At least she likes her cereal -- rice, oat and barley -- particularly oatmeal. I've made it a nightly routine for her and I to have our oatmeal (mine is Maple and Brown Sugar. Mmmm) before she settles down to bed. It usually works like a charm. My Mom thinks that cereal is comfort food and helps you sleep. I guess a full tummy helps. I'm thrilled that she likes Sweet Potatoes with Turkey so she's getting some protein. I've tried mixing chicken into regular sweet potatoes. She'll usually tolerate it. I just have to be careful not to put too much chicken in it. Pears remain her very favourite food. She likes apples and bananas too but she goes over the moon for pears. Peaches were a flop. I sampled a little and couldn't blame her. I love the actual fruit but for some reason the baby version was just sickening. Too sweet (and this is coming from someone who loves Coca Cola!) I was surprised she didn't like corn. It's always been one of my favourites. It doesn't have a lot of nutritional value so I probably won't get it again. I just thought if it was something she liked I could mix other things with it. God help me if she ever loses her taste for sweet potatoes! She did eat some of the beef with spaghetti but she wasn't in love with it. My Mom said she always thought those mixed baby foods wouldn't be nutritional enough. I said if I can get her to have a little bit of meat it's more than worth it.

She's developing a sense of humour as well. She keeps knocking my glasses off and laughing. She laughs her head off if I make a silly face or noise or voice. She understands more of what I say and reacts to it. The other day she passed gas and I asked her if she tooted. She found that hilarious. I would later learn that she found it so funny because she'd done more than tooted. She had pooped. Her poo now, since starting solid food, is UNGODLY. It stinks to high heaven. I can't believe something so foul can come out of an innocent little baby. No one warned me. I'd been accustomed to her breastmilk poo which was essentially odourless. For 6 months it was a non-issue. I had an open wastebasket for diapers in the nursery. Now since starting solid foods I had to put in a steel garbage can with a lid and it still smells.

Pretty soon I can start giving her finger foods. At eight months babies are allowed to nibble foods that will dissolve in their mouth -- like little pieces of bread, soft cheese, pasta, Cheerios. That will be exciting. I know that she'll love feeding herself. It will be a bit nerve-wracking too. I'm so scared of her choking on something. I will be so careful with just little bits at a time and will never give her anything dangerous (nuts, hard fruit etc). She still doesn't have any teeth or the beginnings of any. Hopefully teething won't make her fussier and keep her up at night when it happens. My Mom got me a little mesh thing that you can put fruit in so that they can suck on it and get the juice without eating the actual fruit. It will be interesting to see her taste a real pear. They're not quite as sweet as the baby version. Finger foods will definitely be an adventure. After seeing how excited she got over a glass of water, I'm guessing Cheerios will really blow her mind! She's constantly putting her toys in her mouth (and trying to put anything else she comes across in too but I stop her when she tries to chew books etc -- except the bath books) so it will be fascinating to her I'm sure that she can put things in her mouth that actually taste like something. I will try to get a video of her eating Cheerios for the first time.

When I see her holding onto the ottoman and I let go for a few seconds, it's scary to think that one day she will stand without holding onto anything, then she'll be taking her first wobbly steps alone. It's hard to let go. I remember when she was a newborn and I was so overwhelmed with her crying all the time and feeding almost constantly but part of me now looks back at that time and thinks "in a way it was easier." She was helpless. She needed me. She couldn't move around or do anything on her own. She couldn't get into trouble. And she didn't weigh so much to carry her. Yes although she does like to be independent sometimes, there are other times (usually when she's overtired/cranky) when she will not let me put her down and it KILLS my arms, wrists, back. Still I am excited about where she is now and where she's going. In some ways it's easier, in other ways it's harder but it's a rollercoaster and I'm enjoying the ride. 

Life Unmanned

Everyone has their bad habits, addictions -- whether it's alcohol, drugs, food, work, shopping, etc -- most of us have something that we carry to excess. Something that tends to be bad for us. Mine was men. I was a love junkie. I always needed to have a man in my life. For decades, I went from one boyfriend to another, usually with no break in between. I suppose subconsciously that I felt incomplete without a man. I was afraid to be alone. I thought I needed someone to love me, to tell me I was beautiful, or I wouldn't exist. I craved male attention. And I ended up with all the wrong men.

Ironically however, during the biggest events of my life (purchasing my car, my first home and now having a baby) I always seem to be flying solo. It's a sign that I can do things on my own. I don't need to rely on a man. Most of the men I ended up with were pretty unreliable anyway. It almost seemed like I gravitated toward men that couldn't commit or that I couldn't commit to. Men who would leave me or men that I would have a good excuse to leave. The truth was that I was terrified of commitment. When someone would ask if I was married, I used to joke "No. I've managed to avoid it so far!" Although I was afraid to be alone, the thought of being tied to another person forever (especially the wrong person) was terrifying. I'd sometimes spend years with them mind you, but always had one foot out the door. 

I was torn. Though I was a hopeless romantic who dreamed of finding my one true love I actually ran from love all the time. I would push men away. I would seek out relationships that were doomed from the start. I kept thinking if I found the right one, I wouldn't want to run. I would meet Mr. Right and we would live happily ever after. Sometimes I thought I had come close. Some men can put on a good show and seem perfect in the beginning. Then the truth starts to come out and you realize he isn't what he seemed to be at all. Each relationship would end in disappointment, after a few months or several years. I could never imagine marrying any of them. There was always an excuse, an escape clause. I wouldn't marry unless it was forever. So each relationship was destined to end. Then another would begin, almost immediately. There was never much of a gap between my boyfriends. Sometimes I'd be wanting to leave one and his replacement (usually his opposite, which would be attractive to me at the time) would show up and give me an out. It was hard to let go of one unless there was another to cling to.

So many times my friend got frustrated with me. She saw me go from one dead-end relationship to another. Once while we were having brunch she sat and made a list of all the men I had dated. It was exhausting and depressing. Most of them, she concluded, weren't worth my time. Why was I wasting myself on them? Didn't I deserve better? When was I going to stop? She told me that I needed to end this pattern, to take a break from dating altogether. To take at least a year, alone, to find myself. "A year?!" I stammered in disbelief having never gone more than a month without a boyfriend in the last 20+ years. Yes, she insisted. I needed to give myself time to heal properly for once, to be on my own, time to just be me and discover who I was. It made sense. But it was too scary. I ignored her advice. I always recovered from the demise of one bad relationship by diving into another one. It was easier for me. Human beings will usually take the path of least resistance.

It wasn't that I enjoyed dating. I actually hated it. Embarking on a new relationship was always scary. Putting your heart out there again. Not knowing how it would turn out. But when it was good, the excitement, the newness was intoxicating. After stifling in a bad relationship to start a shiny new one was irresistible. And each time I'd get my hopes up that this could be it. I didn't want to keep dating several men. Just one. The right one. The difficulty was finding him. Some of them seemed to be or even claimed to be my Mr. Right but always turned out not to be. Some of my boyfriends were basically good guys, just wrong for me. Some were bad guys.

My baby's father was the probably the worst ever. Anyone who could abandon his girlfriend and his unborn child, that could promise to be in it forever and tell her that he's excited to be a family together then sneak out in the middle of the night (while I was at work) without a word of warning, explanation or apology when she's four months pregnant, is completely void of character, integrity, responsibility, or any redeeming qualities. You can't get much lower than that. Oh and he left owing me money. Yeah. February was one of the worst months of my life (if you haven't read it yet, see my post "FebRUEary" for the story...)

Of course even if he had stayed, he was more of a hindrance than a help. It's not like he was a partner. He was a dependent. A boy, not a man. Financially he was costing me money (doubled my hydro bill, quadrupled my grocery bill.) I don't know how I would have managed being the only real breadwinner in the house and having to support he & I, a dog (his pitbull) and four cats (2 his, 2 mine though 1 of mine passed away in February because that month wasn't cruel enough already) and a baby on the way.

Somehow I always seemed to end up with men who were unemployed or underemployed. Men that had issues - financial, emotional, you name it. Some men were strong and stable but emotionally unavailable and I wound up feeling alone in the relationship. Other men were sensitive, had emotional depth and I felt a strong bond with them but they were fragile, falling apart (alcoholics, substance abusers.) I had a weakness for broken boys, wounded doves, beautiful but self-loathing self-destructive lost souls. I'd try (and fail) to save them. Then I would be drawn to someone cold and confident, detached, unsympathetic, unfeeling. That felt like strength and normalcy. After the chaos of a broken boy I would crave the stability of a steely man. But I missed the vulnerability, dependency, the depth of the broken boys. Somehow that always felt more like love. For decades I would swing back and forth like a pendulum between two opposite types of men. The truth was that the perfect man would be somewhere in the middle -- someone who could be both strong and sensitive but that didn't seem to exist. It was usually either/or.

At one point, I met a man who seemed to have it all. He had offered me a job with the company he owned. He seemed quite taken with me. At the time, I was torn between two relationships: A friendship and possible reconciliation with a stable though insensitive man I had dated off and on for nearly a decade and a tragic romance with an alcoholic who was destroying himself but who felt like my soulmate. I loved them both in different ways. The "better prospect" man as I'll call him told me that if you're ever torn between two men that neither is right for you. Each is only half of what you need. Of course he was right. I didn't take him up on his offer to go for what was behind door number three. I didn't accept the job offer or the date. Though he was charming, successful and attractive, for some reason I felt no spark for him whatsoever. (Of course not! He probably would have been good for me! I couldn't have that!) He looked great on paper. But the heart wants what it wants and my heart wanted the lost soul who had already dragged me through Hell and back. I ended up staying with the alcoholic. Trying and failing to save him from himself. It was Drama. Tragedy. Romance. Completely irresistible. Everything else in life dulled by comparison. He was my sensitive Pisces dreamer. We were going to sail the world together one day. When it was good, it was the best. When he wasn't drinking, it seemed perfect, beautiful, my fairytale love. I had never felt so loved, wanted and needed in my life as I did with him, before or since. But he couldn't stop drinking and it eventually destroyed him. It got to a point where if I couldn't save him, I had to at least save myself.

Could there be a love so deep, passionate, intense and all-consuming without it falling apart? That's what I wanted. Romeo & Juliet but with a happy ending. Somehow it eluded me.

Overall, men were bad for me. They just seemed to break my heart. They were almost more trouble than they were worth. When your happiness is pinned to someone else, you are left so vulnerable. If you lose them, you lose your world, your dreams, yourself. It's no way to live. Especially for a control freak. I admired my independent friend who was quite happy without a man in her life. If you were happy on your own then no one could take that from you. It would be so liberating. I kept seeing movies about heroines who went on a solitary journey and found themselves. I wanted to be that strong, empowered woman who didn't need a man to make her happy. Somehow I knew, and I'd certainly read about it enough in self-help books (I loved reading self-help books but once I closed the book I wouldn't change a thing. I kept making the same mistakes anyway) that the love I was seeking would never come from someone else. It had to come from within. I needed to love and accept myself, then I wouldn't need a man to define me. It made sense. But after years of low self-esteem (a difficult adolescence left its scars) it was still easier to find a man to love me (even imperfectly) than to try to love myself.

I loved male attention. It made me feel alive. I kept meeting men, falling for the worst ones, getting my heart broken time and again. I knew they were bad for me, but I couldn't seem to resist. And I couldn't just have flings. I'm not the fling type. My heart gets involved. I always had to have a boyfriend. So I'd meet someone, start to date him and he would be my next boyfriend. Usually I'd figure out in the first few months or the first year that it wasn't working, but I'd stay, sometimes for years because I would get attached. They would become a habit. Habits are hard to break. Especially for a Taurus. I loved them, even when I hated them. And the fear of being alone was too great.

I actually admitted to someone, many years ago that it was easier to hide in relationships than to face myself, to find out who I really was. When I got involved with someone, he became my world. I lost myself in him. I stopped doing anything independent or creative. I would adapt to him, chameleon-like. It wasn't their fault. It's not like they asked me to stop being me (well, actually some of them did demand that I become more like them). I just didn't know who I was. I could play so many different roles. Whatever it was that they appreciated about me, I would be that. Whether it was my sense of humour, my talent, my sensual side, my philosophical side. I could be what they wanted. Each one would introduce me to different foods, music, shows, hobbies. I would create a world around him and fall into a comfortable rut. When things would end (as they always would eventually whether he made the exit or I did) it was devestating because it meant my world was falling apart and had to be rebuilt. Luckily (or unluckily) there was usually another man waiting in the wings to help me pick up the pieces so I never really learned to be independent.

Most of my boyfriends I had met in bars. My mother always used to say you'll never meet anyone decent in a bar. My argument was that I'm decent and I'm there. Of course I was probably the only one there who wasn't drinking and shopping for a one night stand. I went to nightclubs to dance and hopefully to meet someone worthwhile. The way I dance (and no one could believe I was sober!) I would usually get attention and have men try to pick me up. Unfortunately most of them were looking for one thing. But sometimes I'd get lucky and meet a half-decent guy.

The sweetest guy I ever dated (and man would he come in handy now!) I had met in a bar. He approached me and took my left hand. Seeing that I had no ring he asked "How is it possible that an incredible woman like you isn't married?" Pretty good opening line, I thought. I laughed and said "I've avoided it so far! Spent 9 years with someone and didn't marry him!" and so it began. He taught me to play guitar and for that I will be forever in his debt. It opened up a whole new world of creativity to me. I had always written poetry. Now that I had the music, the songs started flooding out. To date I've written close to 800 songs (I have over 500 videos on my Youtube channel. Last year, 2011 I actually posted an original song every day if you want to check out the playlist 2011 Song of the Day.) He was kind, thoughtful, sweet, loyal. He waited on me hand and foot. Cooked, cleaned, did everything around the house inside and out, fixed things. He gave the most amazing full body massages and foot massages I ever had in my life. Wouldn't let me lift a finger. Carried my bags, opened doors for me. Put me on a pedestal. Treated me like a princess. Unfortunately he was unemployed. Well, you can't have everything. I loved him but wasn't in love with him. I knew that he wasn't my Mr. Right. I tried to leave him several times and couldn't go through with it. Until one day someone else, a fellow musician that I admired stole me away. Looking back, he was the sweetest man I ever dated. He took such good care of me. He would have been a godsend right now. I miss those massages. I miss having someone do things for me. If only we'd had more in common and if only he'd been able to hold down a job...

Things didn't work out with the musician though it took me years to leave him. He was a Taurus like me. Two stubborn bulls battling for control, we had some heated arguments. We were too alike in some ways, too different in others. He had many amazing qualities and was a great mentor/teacher to me. He helped me to be more positive and taught me to love myself. I will always be grateful for that. Unfortunately it seemed we were spinning our wheels, stuck in a rut. Neither of us committed. We couldn't see a future together, we just didn't know how to let go. Then someone came along and stole me away from him. And no that one didn't work either. Nothing ever worked.

For the few minutes when I was single, I would go out dancing. I couldn't stand being home alone on a Friday or Saturday night so I would hit the bar scene. I liked the attention and I usually wound up meeting someone. But the bar scene can get old. Having creepy strangers randomly try to paw you or grind against your buttocks on the dancefloor loses its charm. Having men assume that because you may dance or dress somewhat provocatively that you're easy (and I would inform them, think again pal, I'm as difficult as it gets!) gets frustrating. Trying to explain for the millionth time that I'm looking for a boyfriend not a one night stand, that I love to dance and I don't even drink alcohol gets exasperating. I needed to try something different. Some people said that you find love when you're not looking for it but I didn't know how to not look for it. Everywhere I went I noticed men. Even flirting while driving. I had men approach me in the mall or at the beach. Everywhere I went I was open to the possibility. If Mr. Right was out there, he could be anywhere. How could you not look?!

People had suggested I try online dating sites. It seemed too contrived to me. I always thought that if you're meant to meet someone that they will just stumble across your path somehow.

At one point I thought I had found Mr. Right. I met him in the most random way. He bought my old car. He showed up at the door and it was love at first sight. He seemed to be sweet, sensitive, attentive, romantic. Everything I was looking for. His work schedule was the same as mine (he had the same weekends off.) It seemed like it was meant to be. But the illusion began to unravel. He lost his job and spiralled into a depression. It turned out that he was an alcoholic. On top of that we were completely incompatible. He was an Aquarius, distant, independent. Apparently the worst match in the zodiac for a passionate Taurus. The more I tried to reach him, the more he withdrew. I finally had to give up. He seemed so perfect in the beginning but he was hiding the truth of what he really was. We tried to remain friends but even that proved a strain. We are so fundamentally different that we could never see eye to eye and would end up frustrating each other. I'm too open and he's too closed. We never could meet in the middle. And he never did stop drinking. One alcoholic in my lifetime was more than enough.

Whether it's bad luck or bad instincts, if there was a tragically flawed man within a 100 mile radius, I would fall for him. One time I was at a wedding and there was an entire table of single men. One of them caught my eye. We danced together. We had a fabulous conversation. He was attractive, funny, charming, sincere and had apparently had as much bad luck with women as I had with men. He said that most of the women he ended up with just took advantage of him. All he wanted was an equal partner, not someone that would live off of him. I told him that I'd had the same problem. We were really hitting it off. All of a sudden, I could see my friend in the distance trying to get my attention. He was miming slicing his throat and shaking his head frantically, obviously trying to warn me that this guy was bad news. So I excused myself to get the low-down. How could my instincts be so wrong? Then I found out the story: While Mr. X was a nice guy, unfortunately he had the worst luck on the planet. He was a hemophiliac who had contracted HIV from a tainted blood scandal many years before. He got a million dollar settlement (not that any amount of money would be enough for destroying your life) and didn't have to work but he was understandably depressed (he could never have a family as he wanted and had to live in the fear of developing AIDS), a gambler, alcoholic and drug user. Oh. Yes, this is the one I pick out of a crowd! He was a very cool person and we did become friends. I obviously could never be anything more given his health issues. Sadly he passed away years ago of an overdose.

Of course most people aren't going to advertise their issues when you first meet them. It's too bad they don't. It's too bad you didn't have to have a mandatory tattoo on your arm, a warning to the world -- "alcoholic," "passive aggressive," "sociopath." Most people try to make a good impression to win you over. Then they drop the bomb after your heart is invested.

A friend, trying to be kind, told me once that it was a beautiful quality of mine that I never lost my childlike innocence, my romantic idealism, that I would see the good in people and hope for the best. The truth was I was probably just blind, gullible, foolish. I kept looking for my Prince. I caught glimpses of him. Each man that I dated had some good in him, some beautiful quality that drew me in but most of them had flaws so serious that I should have run screaming within minutes or days, instead of staying for months or years.

So last year I decided I had nothing to lose and might as well try something different. I finally took the plunge and went to an online dating site. I reasoned that I couldn't do any worse than I had done meeting men in person and maybe on the internet I'd meet a different sort of man. Someone who would never hit the bar scene. Someone shy and genuine, looking for a real connection. Sure! Well, it didn't quite play out that way. There may have been some shy ones but they were probably too shy to write to me. I mostly heard from jerks. I won't say the name of the site. All I can say is that we all know the saying about there being "plenty of fish in the sea" unfortunately online most of them are sharks! And for a vulnerable mermaid, it's probably the worst place to be. I did like the attention. Within minutes of setting up my profile I was getting emails and instant messages. It was actually overwhelming. I nearly had a panic attack and pulled the plug. I met some pretty scary characters who were only after one thing (a self-professed werewolf who nearly attacked me, a Romanian truck driver who kissed my hand, a sexy but very aggressive Russian, a chiselled young Italian stallion whose hug goodbye I'll never forget -- he was very happy to see me!) I met some painfully dull characters that I knew I'd never want to see again. I met some guys that were nice enough but felt no chemistry with. Usually I opted for meeting them at Tim Hortons. It's a safe first date. Even if he's a serial killer he probably can't make a move in public. If you hit it off you can always move on to dinner or something else. If there is no connection whatsoever you can make a quick escape after you drink your small iced cappuccino.

Then last Spring I met the Hungarian. I knew that he had some issues, life complications before I even met him, just from his profile and from talking with him online. I didn't plan to fall in love with him. I just thought it would be fun to meet him. What the hell? You only live once. He was a fascinating character, very attractive. I loved his accent when we spoke on the phone. He was unique. I was too intrigued not to meet him. What could it hurt to go for a coffee with the guy? I told my Mother. Nothing bad can happen at Tim Hortons. Unfortunately it was love at first sight, for both of us. The connection between us -- physically, mentally and emotionally -- was palpable. The way he gazed into my eyes was electrifying. There was an energy between us unlike anything I'd ever experienced. And our first kiss was Heaven. There was no walking away from this. He was beautiful on the outside, a 6'2" slender blond blue-eyed chiselled god of a man. Beautiful on the inside, romantic, artistic, philosophical, spiritual. He was a Scorpio. I had known Scorpios (my mother was one and frankly they scared me!) but had never dated one. He was very intense. Sensual. The relationship was extraordinary. Life was magical. When it was good, it was the best time of my life. We made a road trip to Florida together and I will never forget it. I will always be grateful for that experience. I believed it was forever. But his issues (huge red flags that should have prevented me from dating him at all, but love is of course blind and a little stupid in my case) made it impossible to be together. We could only avoid reality for so long. His life was a shambles. Financially, spiritually, he was lost. He said he was too proud to let me try to save him (it's what I tend to do). He had so much to sort out but had to do it on his own. He flew back to Hungary to be with his parents and find himself. When it fell apart, I was devestated. My beautiful dream was shattered. How could I go back to ordinary life now?

Determined to get back on the horse, like a fool, I went back to the online dating site. Unfortunately there didn't seem to be any extraordinary characters like my Hungarian. There were guys who were nice, but boring. Guys who were sexy, but mean. Men I had nothing in common with. Men who were just frightening. No one seemed to be boyfriend material. 99% were just trying to get into my pants. Though I was admittedly in my sexual peak and climbing the walls, I needed more than that. I needed someone with a heart. And a brain. Someone deep and real and funny. Someone who would challenge me at Scrabble and snuggle with me and laugh about stupid things. A boyfriend. A love. And sure, mind-blowing sex would be nice too. Then I found M...

His photo stopped me in my tracks. Something about his eyes was mesmerizing. Like the Hungarian, he was a 6'2" slim, blond, blue-eyed Scorpio. No way this could go wrong! I must have been crazy. The definition of insanity, I've heard, is to continue doing the same thing expecting different results. M was different from the Hungarian however, and from anyone else I'd ever met. I loved reading his emails. He was clever, sarcastic, edgy, a lot more than just a cute boy. He had a bit of a dark side, but a sweet side too. And he wasn't just after sex. He wanted to beat me at Scrabble. He was looking for a relationship. He almost seemed to good to be true. He didn't seem phased by the age difference (he was 10 years my junior). He said from my photos I looked much younger anyway (most people guessed me 10 years younger than I was). To M's credit, at least he didn't pretend to be perfect. After we had arranged to meet, he wrote me a heartwrenching email about how he probably shouldn't meet me, that it wouldn't be fair to me. That he was so messed up he had no business being in a relationship. He told me about his troubled past -- never knew his father, taken from his crack whore mother at 1 year old, in and out of foster homes, never had a home, constantly moving, no one he could trust, every girlfriend cheated on him, getting in trouble, suffering bouts of depression (the blahs as he called them). On and on. He was a trainwreck. He said that he felt pathetic. His email was so raw, so honest, so heartwrenching that instead of scaring me off, it made me want to meet him all the more! I appreciated his honesty. Most people don't tell you about the skeletons in their closet until after you've dated them a while. Plus, the lure of the wounded dove, the lost, broken boy was too great. I told him he wasn't getting off that easy, that I'd take my chances and have a coffee with him anyway. It was reckless and irresponsible of me to meet with him. But I was living on the edge. I had wanted to go skydiving and never got to. Meeting someone at Tim Hortons seemed pretty harmless in comparison. In a billion years I couldn't have imagined what would happen. That meeting for an iced capp would change the entire course of my life. That I would fall for this guy. That I would have his baby.

I'd never had a relationship move so fast. He joked about kidnapping me on our first date and it wasn't really a joke. He took me home and held me captive for days. I was a willing prisoner. I cancelled my plans the next day because he wouldn't let me leave. And I didn't want to leave. We were inseparable. He sulked when I had to go to work. He asked to move in after us only dating for a couple of weeks. Within a month I was pregnant. It was crazy but it seemed like it was meant to be. We were going to be a family. Something he had never had. And I was committed. I couldn't leave him. He was the father of my child. He told me I was stuck with him forever.

Then he disappeared in February without a word. It made no sense. We had had fights (mostly about money. He didn't have any) but we always made up. The day before he left he hugged and kissed me and said he'd see me later. He didn't want me to go to work. He was sweeter than ever. He gave no indication that anything was wrong. He was supposed to be giving me a check that day. Maybe he didn't have the money. Maybe he was ashamed. I'm sure he had skipped out on rent before. But this was more than rent. This was skipping out on his girlfriend and his own child. I just wish he had been honest. Told me. Warned me. Left me a note at least. Anything. It still baffles me how he could have done that, the way that he did. Packed up everything and left. Disappeared without an explanation. It was like a movie. A country song. A tabloid headline. "Pregnant woman abandoned!" It was the most shocking, most hurtful thing anyone had ever done to me in my life. I couldn't believe it. I still can't, really. He had claimed to love me but he must have hated me to be capable of that. Or maybe he loved me, loved us enough to save us from the monster that he was. He tried to warn me not to date him. I didn't listen. I went ahead and fell anyway, knowing what I was getting myself into. For some reason, out of all the men I'd known and loved, he was meant to father my child. I didn't think I could get pregnant, especially so easily and at my age (I was 42. 43 now.) It was Fate. This baby is a miracle, a blessing and I am grateful for that. Even though it took falling in love with a monster to get her.

And so, since his exit in February, I have been unmanned for the first time, for the longest span (six months now) in my adult life. This is the longest I have gone without a boyfriend. I couldn't date while pregnant (that would be crazy.) Not that I would have wanted to anyway. After what I've been through I'm not even sure how I'd trust someone again. I can't date with a newborn. I'll have my hands full raising a baby on my own. It would be quite a while before I would have the time or the inclination to meet a man again. And my priorities have changed considerably. My child comes first. I couldn't date someone who wasn't worthy of her. (My friend pointed out how sad it was that I didn't feel that protective of myself as I often dated men who weren't worthy of me.) Now I would have to be much more careful, much more selective. A man would not only have to be a good man and a loving partner for me, he would have to be a good father for my daughter. That's a pretty tall order. I don't know if anyone would measure up.

My greatest fear was always being alone, without a partner. Now I have been alone since February and survived. Being pregnant, you would think more than ever you would need a partner for support, physically (to do things for you because everything is harder with the big pregnant belly), emotionally and financially yet I have survived on my own for the past several months. Surprisingly I have rarely felt lonely. The truth is I'm never alone and never will be again. My baby is always there. Feeling her move inside me gives me the most intense feeling of connection that I've ever had with another person. She literally is a part of me. I can't feel lonely because she's always there. I'm also very fortunate to have the support of a loving family and friends to help me through this journey. It doesn't feel like I'm missing anything. In many ways, it's been kind of nice not having a man around -- having my space, privacy, freedom. Living with someone can get on your nerves.

It's strange how much my priorities have changed. I used to love having men look at me and flirt with me, now I feel sort of invisible but it's just as well because these days comfort means more to me than appearance and frankly I can't be bothered making an effort. Men don't look at me the way they used to. Once in a while when I'm driving, a guy in another car will turn his head, smile at me. One day I was wearing a rather revealing top (and there's a lot more to reveal these days. I've gone up several bra sizes.) and the guy in the car next to me was looking over and smiling. I smiled back and thought "Oh buddy, if you only knew what was behind this car door!" I guess he couldn't see the belly.

Usually I don't even notice men anymore. Now I have a radar for pregnant women. And babies. I seem to see so many babies everywhere I go and I'm drawn to them like a magnet. Though, embarassingly, I have to fight back tears, especially when it's a newborn. They are so beautiful it's overwhelming.

Once in a while though I like to look at beautiful men, the way I would admire a work of art. My friend suggested going to see "Magic Mike" -- the film about male strippers, starring Channing Tatum and Matthew McConaughey. Sure. I can enjoy watching a bunch of hot men with six packs dancing! Not surprisingly the audience at the matinee was 100% female! It was a fun film. Better than I expected actually. A man with a six pack who is also a good dancer. Those are hard to come by! It would be fun to find one. Of course in real life it would be nice if he didn't have women shoving money in his underwear. But you can't have everything.

Being pregnant has certainly changed my feelings toward men though. I used to think I couldn't live without them but now that I've discovered I can, I don't really miss them. And I don't care about sex anymore. I don't miss it. My fantasies these days involve Oreo McFlurries and foot massages! Someone who would take out the garbage for me. Maybe the sexual peak that I experienced last year was just my biological clock ticking (unbeknownst to me, I wasn't planning to have kids!) and now that I'm pregnant it's like mission accomplished, don't need it anymore!

Of course I'm sure the day will come when I would like to have male companionship again. To fall in love, to have a man to share things with. They do have their good points. He would have to be wonderful though. A real man not a broken boy. Strong and sensitive, smart, sexy, successful, sincere, sweet, stable, with a great sense of humour. I couldn't settle ever again. I couldn't take the chance. There's too much at stake now that I'm going to be a Mom.

I've been watching The Bachelorette (I did a previous post when the show had just started, now the season is nearly over and she's down to the final two) with more interest this season than ever before. Emily Maynard is my favourite bachelorette in the show's history. She's a sweet southern belle, ridiculously beautiful and she's a single Mom. I have really been rooting for her to find love. She's suffered so much heartbreak. Her childhood sweetheart was killed in a tragic accident and after his death she discovered that she was carrying his child. A single Mom she had a tough time finding a partner for her who could also be a good father to her daughter Ricki. She went on The Bachelor and ended up winning Brad Womack's heart. Unfortunately their fairytale romance was too good to be true and self-destructed off-camera. It sounded like he wasn't prepared to be a father. When the producers approached her, she reluctantly agreed to take another chance at finding love on camera as the bachelorette.

She has been much more cautious this time. I was proud of her when she managed to weed out and eliminate snakes like Narcissistic Ryan who referred to her as a trophy and said he wouldn't love her if she put on any weight and arrogant Kalon, who callously referred to her daughter as "baggage." She kept the ones who were genuine and the total package -- beautiful inside and out. She had it down to three, Sean, Arie and Jef. A tough choice, each one wonderful in his own way. She let Sean go (he's the one in the first photo. I know! How could she say goodbye to him?) He was not only attractive but sweet and sensitive and romantic. They all are. Watching the show has been encouraging. At least it shows that there are good guys out there. Men who can be strong and sensitive. And funny and romantic. Kind and stable. And eager to commit to a single Mom. I am interested to see who she ends up with. I wish her the best. A good man is hard to find. She found three that fell in love with her. (Four actually, Chris whom she let go last week was also a good guy.) Lucky lady. Though it's a blessing and a curse because falling for more than one great guy means she has to break a few hearts. That's not easy to do.

Maybe one day I will find my Mr. Right. Someone beautiful inside and out. Someone that I feel a strong chemistry with, a solid friendship with. Someone I can trust completely. Someone with integrity. It's different now because I'm not afraid to be alone. I would rather be alone than in a dead-end relationship. So if the perfect man shows up, great. And if he doesn't, great. I will not settle for less. If and when I ever date again, I would be so much more careful. I wouldn't take reckless chances. I wouldn't go for coffee with a man that I knew was bad news. I wouldn't put myself in a dangerous situation. My child is my top priority. A man would have to be pretty extraordinary to be allowed into our lives. No more broken boys for me! I've quit cold turkey. I am happy to say that I am not addicted to men anymore! I have proven that I can live without them and I've actually been happier these past few months than ever before in my adult life. And it's a happiness that no one can take from me because it comes from within and isn't dependent on someone else. Now I am overflowing with love. Love that I can share with my child. There is no one in the way to deplete me, change or control me, disappoint or betray me. I have space to be creative. I feel strong and independent. Sure I have rough days, but I pick myself up and realize that no matter what, I'm going to be OK. I have faced my greatest fears and survived. I don't need some prince to rescue me and I don't need a wounded dove to rescue. I am embarking on a new adventure. I am becoming a mother. This is the most important relationship of my life and I am committed.

It's funny that my friend kept telling me I needed to be alone for a year. Now I will be. I'm already halfway there. It took a pretty drastic life change to make it happen -- having a baby! This baby is the best thing that ever happened to me. She's keeping me out of trouble. She's awakening me to a new state of being. She's teaching me what love really is, who I really am, what life really means.

I was always looking for love. I've finally found it. Not in the way I expected, but in the way I needed. I have learned to love myself. I have learned the most profound love is the love you have for your child. I thought I needed romantic love to feel fulfilled. But romance is so conditional, so tenuous. It is a heart made of sand that the tide can easily wash away. The love of a mother and child is eternal, unconditional, pure. It can not be undone. This is commitment. This is forever. It scares me but it feels right. It feels like this is where I'm meant to be. I thought I needed a man to feel happy. Turns out maybe I just needed a little girl.

Single Mom, Wonder Woman

When I was a kid, I never dreamed of being a Mom. I wasn't interested in pushing baby dolls in carriages or playing house. I wanted to be Wonder Woman! Beautiful and powerful, she was my idol. I used a skipping rope as a lasso of truth, tin foil for bracelets. I spun around hoping I would magically end up in a bathing suit and boots. Now I find myself suddenly a single Mom, something I never imagined I would be, but I'm quickly realizing that being a single mom IS being Wonder Woman! Fighting the forces of evil, protecting the innocent, standing up for what's right, making the world a better place (for your children in particular), doing the seemingly impossible and doing it all on your own.

There are a lot of us out there. Nearly one quarter of mothers now are single mothers and almost 50% of today's moms will be the sole custodial parent at some time. Almost half of single moms were never married. The other half are divorced, separated or widowed.

Lately, I've been fortunate enough to talk with a number of single moms. Each has her own unique story. Some were abandoned, as I was, during pregnancy or after. I thought that my story was unusual, (in my 40s pregnant unexpectedly and abandoned), but I actually met another single mom whose tale was almost identical. She was 40, became pregnant to a man whom she'd only been dating a month (just like me). He left her, without warning, at the three month point (mine was at four months). She was due in July (just like me!) but ended up having her son prematurely. Luckily he was a healthy, happy boy and is the light of her life. His father only came to see him once, in the hospital, just after he was born and made no subsequent attempts to be a part of his son's life. Of the other single moms I talked to, most were divorced. Some escaped toxic and abusive relationships (alcoholism and other substance abuse, infidelity, physical and psychological abuse.) There is also a new breed of single mom -- the single moms by choice who decided to go it alone and create a family without a man, either adopting a child on their own or using a sperm donor to have a child without a relationship. If you want to start a family and Mr. Right doesn't show up in time, improvise! Despite the differences between them, these single moms are all extraordinary women. I am in awe of their independence, strength and determination, the deep love and close bond they have with their kids. I never expected to find myself in this situation. I can only hope that I'm up to the task.

It can be a daunting task. Let's face it, in this economy, families struggle to survive on TWO incomes, never mind one. To earn enough to support her children and still have enough time to spend with them can be a challenge. A single mother has to be resourceful, enterprising, hard-working, organized, a master of time management, able to juggle the needs of career and childcare. Having the support of family and friends can be a great help. I am fortunate to have a mother and sister that are extremely supportive. I've had family and friends donate maternity and baby clothes. My sister is giving me her crib, change table, rocking chair, toys and many other items which is a HUGE help. Money will be tight to say the least. Especially when I go on maternity leave. I'm not actually sure how I'm going to manage, what arrangements I'll have to make before going back to work. The plan originally was for Mike, the baby's father, to watch the baby when I went back to work because he worked from home (yeah, if you can call it that.) Now I'm not sure what I'll do but I'm trying not to worry about things that are a year down the road. I'm taking it one day at a time and trusting that somehow everything will work out.

I had no idea I'd be going through this alone. Mike had promised he was sticking around. He told me he was excited about the baby, wanted to be a family. He kissed my belly. He called her Michelle. He loved us. Or at least he seemed to, up until February. In spite of his history and his issues, he seemed happy living with me. He gave no indication that he wanted to leave. I still don't understand how he could turn his back on us. One day I will have to explain to my daughter who her daddy was and why he's not around. I'm not sure what I'll say since he left without a word of explanation or apology (if you missed my earlier posts, "Feb-RUE-ary" recounts his random disappearance when I was four months pregnant). It was baffling. I can't understand it. I don't know what to think. I don't want to believe that he was just cruel, heartless and selfish, that he didn't care about us, that he just wanted his freedom and took off so that he wouldn't be tied down. I would like to think that letting go was the only option he thought he had -- that he thought we'd be better off without him. He wasn't prepared to be a father. He was more of a burden than a help (financially and otherwise.) Maybe he didn't feel worthy of us, thought it would be a more difficult, more stressful life with him around (which is probably true.) Perhaps he felt like he didn't belong in my world. (He'd made mention of the disparity between our "worlds," said that we were from different levels of society, even described himself as a "bottom feeder." The place he had been living before moving in with me was scary to say the least. A dirty, dingy basement apartment with holes in the walls, a ceiling black with mould, yellow walls.) A boy from the wrong side of the tracks, rough around the edges, with piercings, tattoos, spiky hair, chains, a proclivity for dropping random F-bombs, he did seem to feel a bit out of place in my conservative suburban neighbourhood.

Maybe he was being cruel to be kind, for the baby's and my own good. Maybe it broke his heart to leave but he felt it was for the best for us. Well, I'd like to believe that anyway. He may have just been a monster, a misogynist, a sociopath too damaged to develop human attachments, too hateful and angry at the world to have any sort of conscience. But I saw a tender side. The way he comforted me. The thoughtful little things he did. The way he slept hugging my pyjamas. Beneath the tough exterior was a little boy who needed to be loved. And he was. And he seemed happy. I offered him a better life. For the first time, he had a good woman that he could trust. He had a daughter on the way. He had a beautiful home, a family, a purpose he had never had. How on earth could he let that go? I can't imagine that he could just leave and forget us. How could he not be haunted every day of his life knowing what he gave up? Knowing that he has a child out there. Even if he tried, he could never forget. When the time comes and I have to tell her about her father, I will show her pictures of him and the letter he wrote me at Christmas. She will see that he did love us, at least for a time. For whatever reasons, (financial, emotional, psychological) I guess he had his own demons to wrestle and couldn't stay with us.

Given the life that he had had, Mike really didn't know what it was to have a family. They say that the first few years of your life from 0-5 years are the most important. You learn more during that period than you will in the rest of your lifetime. More than just how to walk, talk, eat, read. You learn to love, learn about the world and your place in it. It is when you learn to bond with others. Not getting the right nurturing during this stage can be catastrophic. This period shapes the person that you will become. In those first few years, Mike suffered abandonment. He never had a father and even lost his mother when he was one year old. In and out of foster homes, he never had a chance to feel safe, secure, nurtured and loved. He would go the rest of his life with a chip on his shoulder. A black hole of need that would never be filled. Distrustful (especially of women), suspicious, defensive. In some ways, he was like a wild animal. A survivor. A lone wolf. Ironically he seemed to seek out situations that would perpetuate his anger and despair. He wouldn't let himself be happy. Maybe he didn't know how to bond, to settle down, to stay in one spot, to be part of a family. He seemed to want that with the baby and me but maybe he got scared, afraid of the unknown, feeling like a fish out of water. I recall him saying that he was nervous about holding the baby. He said he wouldn't hold her when she was a newborn because she'd be too fragile. I said "Of course you have to hold your own baby! You just cradle her, support her head with your arm. You can learn!" But maybe he was overwhelmed by the idea, by the responsibility. He was a drifter who was used to just picking up and leaving. He wasn't used to staying and especially having to care for a child. So maybe he just got scared. Found it easier to return to the life he knew, as dark and meaningless as that world might have been. I hated him for a long while but I have to make my peace with this. I have to forgive him for my own sanity. And the truth is, he has done us a favour. I just wish he had at least given us a goodbye, a note, an answer I could give our daughter when the time came. Despite all the pain he's caused me, I can't truly hate him because he has given me this extraordinary unexpected gift, a child that was meant to be. A love unlike any I've ever experienced. The adventure of a lifetime. I believe in Fate. It's not my place to question it. It had to be this way for whatever reason.

The truth is it may actually be easier not having him in the picture at all. It will just be the baby and me. So many women go through ugly custody battles with their exes, have to deal with the stress of seeing them because of the kids. All the animosity between the parents impacts the children. You cannot hate each other publicly, in front of the kids, without affecting who they are. Maybe a clean break, an absentee father is better, simpler. No one to argue with. No one to battle for control. I see too many couples who let the animosity they feel for each other poison their children. Sometimes they use the children as pawns to punish each other. It's no way for a child to live. I will never speak an ill word about my child's father to her. It would only hurt her. No matter what, he's still her dad. She wouldn't have existed without him. So I will focus on the good things about him. There were some. His sweetness at times, his intelligence and sense of humour. If she gets anything from him, hopefully it will be those qualities.

Vanishing the way he did, he obviously had no intention of being part of her life. So it's less complicated. I get to be in control, make all the decisions, with no one to fight with. Financially, he wasn't in a position to help much or contribute anyway, so I'm better off on my own. Truthfully when he lived here, the bit of money he gave me didn't even cover the costs he incurred me, feeding and caring for him and his three pets. My household bills were double with him here and my grocery bill nearly quadrupled! I didn't realize until I looked at my credit card bills later that I was spending $800-1000 a month on groceries while he lived here! Now my groceries are only about $250 a month. He was eating me out of house and home! A ravenous 6'2" eating machine who could devour an entire dinner for a family of four as a light snack. Not to mention feeding his pitbull who ate all his own food and the cat food. I could hardly keep up with it. And it would have been exhausting dealing with all of them on top of caring for a baby.

Though it can be a struggle in many ways, there are advantages to being a single mom. Having a man around can be like having another baby to take care of! Not all men are helpful. In fact, many of them are not. Many of them barely pick up after themselves much less do anything for the kids. It is tough to make ends meet on one income, but if the man in your life happened to be unemployed or underemployed then he was a liability anyway and costing you rather than saving you money. Of course there are exceptions to the rule, my baby brother being one, he has a good job, is a wonderful father and husband and very helpful in every way. He and his wife share the responsibilities of caring for their children and share the finances. But I am going to go out on a limb and say that this is rarely the case. From what I've seen of married and co-habitating couples, 9 times out of 10, it is the WOMAN who shoulders most of the burden. When a baby cries, she's the one to get up and feed/change him. Mom is the one who does the cooking, cleaning, most of the household chores, on top of caring for, nurturing the kids and her husband (and pets if they have any). Mom is the organized one who remembers special occasions, school and extracurricular schedules, doctor appointments. Men don't seem to be wired that way. These days most women work outside the home as well so she gets to do it all, inside and outside the home. Dad has it relatively easy. With a new baby, most of the time it's Mom who does the feeding, getting up in the night when the baby cries, changing the diapers, playing with them. When it comes to parenting, it seems that dads may make an appearance but it is Mom who is the star of the show.

I remember reading years ago that statistically, marriage is bad for women, but good for men. Single women live longer than married women. For men it's the reverse -- single men don't live as long as married men. Why would this be? It would appear that when a man gets married, his burden is lessened -- he now has someone to take care of him, to fulfill his needs. Unfortunately, when a woman gets married, her burden is increased. On her own, she only had herself to take care of, which she could do quite well. Once married, she then has to care for her husband and children (and pets if they have any). She ends up doing it all, meeting everyone else's needs while her own aren't being met. She can wind up stressed, exhausted, depleted. Women are naturally better nurturers. Men often just don't get it. Frankly, men need us more than we need them! (Sorry guys, please no hate mail here! I am generalizing of course. I am speaking of the majority. There are no doubt some men out there who are capable of nurturing, who are very involved in their children's lives and very supportive of their wives. I know that my brother is one of them. I also know that he is the rarity.) Most of the women I've encountered do the lion's share of the work at home, with a new baby or older kids. So single mom or not, chances are if you're a woman, you're doing it all. Of course if the man in your life does anything at all, it is a help, as opposed to going it completely alone. With a male figure absent from their lives however, single moms may be more apt to bond with friends and family and develop a network or support system to help them out. The truth is, you are never alone. There is always somewhere to turn. There are a lot of us out there and we need to support each other.

Even in Hollywood, there are a lot of single moms. Here are just a few in the media recently:

Hot Mamas -- Celebrity Single Moms

Halle Berry

Sandra Bullock

Katie Couric

Sheryl Crow

Minnie Driver

Jennie Garth

Kate Gosselin

Kate Hudson

January Jones   

Heidi Klum

Bridget Moynahan

Madonna

Natascha McElhone

Kate Moss

Denise Richards

Sharon Stone

Charlize Theron

Liv Tyler

Michelle Williams

Kate Winslet

Say what you will about her, but I think Kate Gosselin is one of the most strong, courageous women out there. Imagine taking care of 8 kids on your own?! I feel like I'll have my hands full with just one!

Most of these celebrities are divorced. Charlize Theron is a new single mom by choice who chose to adopt. It is good to see strong, beautiful, independent moms out there who love their kids. Of course celebrities naturally have a financial advantage over the rest of us. It's hard to take them too seriously when they say how hard it is to balance work and having time for their children (as Madonna had remarked in a recent article) when we know that with all their millions they could afford the best in childcare, could take a break from work, etc. Money would make a lot of things easier! Celebrity or not though the most valuable thing we can give to our children is love, which cannot be bought. From what I have seen, children of single mothers know that they're loved. They are grateful for their mom's sacrifices. They feel an even closer bond because she was there for them when no one else was. One of the sweetest men I ever met grew up with a single mother (his father was an alcoholic and took off on them.) He was extremely grateful to her, protective of her and consequently put women on a pedestal. If only there were more men like this!

Life often doesn't go quite the way you plan. I grew up reading fairytales and waiting for my Prince Charming. Yeah. He didn't show up. Does Mr. Right exist? Sometimes we think we may have found him but it turns out to be an illusion. I met a woman who married her high school sweetheart, had a fairytale wedding, had a family together, then one day he told her that he had never loved her. What do you do when your dreams fall apart? Many of us end up in dead-end, destructive relationships. We get discouraged. We find ourselves still single later in life. Or we marry the wrong one and end up divorced. I believed I'd meet Mr. Right, fall in love, get married and get a house someday. That was the plan. I guess it is for a lot of us. But it didn't play out that way for me. I spent 9 years in a relationship and didn't marry him. I had a series of relationships lasting anywhere from several months to several years but never found "the one." (And being a hopeless romantic I was waiting for the one, my soulmate.) So, I found myself 36 years old and still living in a basement apartment in my parents' house. I may never have moved out, except that someone dared me to, years ago. She insulted me and I'm grateful because it set off a chain of events that would change my life in ways I never imagined. I made the most daring move I'd ever made. My first declaration of independence.

I bought a house out of spite. I had no intention of buying a home. No desire to. Where I used to work there were a lot of single girls. One day they were discussing all the girls from work who had purchased homes recently, on their own. Some had gotten condos, others had moved into townhomes. When the conversation turned to me, one of them said "Oh Ann Marie would NEVER get a place on her own! She'd only move out if she got married or moved in with a guy." I was fuming. She did have a point. I was a serial monogamist who was never without a boyfriend. In a way, I did always feel that I needed a man in my life. I just never found the right one, one that I would actually marry. I kept thinking I would move out when I got married but what if that never happened? I was angry. I thought, "I'll show her!" I went into my bank, almost as a lark, to see if I qualified for a mortgage. When I did and they told me that I could get a house, on my own, it was incredibly empowering. I could really do this! By myself! I am woman, hear me roar! I didn't need a man! I could be a single homeowner. It was a possibility, a reality that I'd never considered.

Now the problem was finding a home in my price range. The town where I'd been living with my family was out of the question but a friend at work suggested I look in her neck of the woods. I was getting discouraged with overpriced cookie cutter uninspiring townhomes that all looked the same. I didn't want to settle. I wasn't willing to settle for a man, so why would I settle for a house, my largest and most important purchase ever? I was looking for a sign, looking for a house I'd fall in love with. Then it happened. I walked into the trailer of a new home builder and all the homes were named after artists! Being a painter myself, I took it as a sign. When I saw the prices I was shocked -- detached homes for less than the price of a townhouse where my parents lived. Beautiful homes that were actually in my price range. So I bought the "Monet." The advantage to buying a new house (aside from it being entirely mine and getting to pick everything out, design it the way I wanted) was that I only had to put a small amount down and by the time the house was built I had saved up the rest of my down payment (living with my parents was of course a huge help.) Also, the house had gone up in value before I even moved in. It was surreal moving into my new home. Moving to another city, on my own, at first it was frightening and overwhelming. I wasn't used to living alone. Most people have a bit of a transition -- they rent a place with friends before they buy a place. I'd gone straight from being with my parents to buying this house, on my own. I had left my on-again off-again boyfriend of a few years because he was an alcoholic and I couldn't save him. So I didn't even have a boyfriend when I first moved in. At first I panicked. It didn't feel right. It felt cold and alien. After getting settled in and putting up my artwork, it began to feel more like home. A friend gave me a kitten to keep me company. Soon, I loved my house. I knew it was the best thing I'd ever done. And all it took was someone daring me to do it. Mocking me and telling me I couldn't. (Later she would take credit and say that she was using reverse psychology. I'll never be sure...) My Mom was initially against the move. She didn't want me to go and had come to believe that I'd never leave the nest. Her other birds had flown away and I was her last one. But even she was happy for me and proud of me once she saw my new place. I just had to make sure to visit her often, or suffer the Mom guilt (the possessive Scorpio Mom guilt, yes unlike my ex, she's one Scorpio that never leaves my life!)

Of course I didn't stay alone for long. I ended up reconciling with an old boyfriend who was still in the picture as a friend. I wasn't very good at being alone. I always felt I needed to have a boyfriend. I'd go from one to the next with little or no break in between. I would stay in relationships too long even when they weren't working, because it was too frightening to not have someone there. Sometimes I would want to leave someone and someone else, usually his opposite would show up to give me a way out. I continued this pattern for more than 20 years. On a pendulum swinging back and forth between two types of men (strong but emotionless or sensitive but falling apart) when what I really needed was someone somewhere in the middle -- a man who could be strong AND sensitive. Right now, being pregnant and alone since the start of February is actually the longest stretch of time I've gone without dating anyone in the past two decades. My friend kept telling me I needed to be alone but I wouldn't listen. Now I have no choice. The baby is keeping me out of trouble! Of course I'm never really alone. She's always with me. I love feeling that bond, feeling her move, talking to her. No matter where I go or what I do, she's there. And when she kicks or nudges me it makes me smile and whisper "Love you baby." It's our secret conversation. I can't wait to hold her in my arms. This is a different sort of love than the romantic love I'd been seeking most of my life. It is a deeper love and one that I know will endure forever. Romantic love has so many conditions. The love you have for a child is forever, completely unconditional. It can never be undone.

In a perfect world, every child would grow up with two loving parents. In the real world, it doesn't always pan out that way. Sometimes Mr. Right doesn't show up. Or turns out to be very wrong. I think that a child having one loving parent is preferable to having two parents in a bad situation, who are unhappy, arguing, at each other's throats. Having no father in the picture is better than having a bad one. An abusive parent is more damaging than an absent one. Some people claim that they stay together "for the kids" and then subject their children to a toxic, hostile environment. A war zone where mom and dad hate each other. A nightmare where mother and children walk on eggshells hoping dad won't lash out at them. Children need to feel safe. They need to be loved. A single mom who has her whole heart to give may be all that they need. So if dad doesn't want to be there and takes off, frankly, he's done you a favour. And if dad is still in the picture but doing more harm than good, to you and your child, for Heaven's sake, get out.

I am a single mom. I don't know if I can be Wonder Woman. I don't have superhuman powers but I'm sure going to try to be the best Mom I can be. It's scary. Most of the time I can be positive but there are moments when I'm exhausted, when I feel overwhelmed, moments when I cry and doubt myself and I wonder how I'll get through. But I have a source of strength, a meaning and a purpose that I've never had before. This baby is my life, my reason, my hope and faith. I only have to think of her and then I know that it's going to be OK. She is a miracle. She was meant to be.

I've lived through quite an adventure so far and I know that the best (and the scariest) is yet to come. So much pain, so much joy, so much love that my heart may burst. It terrifies me but so far the things in life that scared me the most wound up being the most rewarding. They stretched me. They forced me to grow beyond what I thought was possible. The surprises and bumps in my life have become my life. Not what I planned, but so much better than my plans. In many ways I was hiding, from life, from myself. I thought I knew what I wanted. But there were things I never allowed myself to want. I was a caterpillar that never dreamed of being a butterfly. Now going through this metamorphosis I see a whole other world open up to me. Beyond my imagination. And whatever I have to go through, it's worth it. I know that everything will be OK. I know that I will be strong enough. I know that I will do whatever it takes because I have no choice. I have to love and protect the most precious being in the world, my baby.