I never liked doing research for papers in school. I didn’t like the tediousness of looking things up in the library and certainly didn’t want to go around interviewing people. I took plenty of sociology classes in college, but was never tempted to do the additional work of a thesis knowing that it would mean likely talking to live sources. I like writing, but when it’s conversational instead of academic and when it’s something I know and/or something I made up. In high school we had an assignment to interview a holocaust survivor and then do an oral report…I made up my survivor and her story and got an A.

All of this as a long way to get to the fact that while in Israel, I was really tempted to actually conduct a sociological study except for the small truth that I’d hate it. So perhaps someone else can do it for me or point me towards a study already done.

You all know that I’ve been on my share of blind dates (I’ve actually been tempted to write a book about those adventures), so I feel like I’m an expert even if only in my own date stories. What I was caught off guard with in the hotels in Jerusalem and Tel Aviv was the amount of Orthodox couples that I saw having “dates” in the open lounges. Typically well dressed, seated just enough apart, and with full glasses of juice or soda on the table as they talked. My uncle was the first to point it out to me one day as we sat there having an afternoon snack and coffee. My initial response to him was that this didn’t seem that different from me meeting a blind date at the local coffee shop.

As the week went by, I couldn’t help but notice the numerous couples I saw in these types of encounters and it got me thinking about how alike or different I was from them and which method actually works better. That’s the study I’d love to see done.

Contrary to what many believe these aren’t arranged marriages. The way I understand it (without research) is that there are women in the community, like matchmakers, that are there to set your children up as they reach the right age. You let them know whether you’re looking for someone Sephardic or Ashkenazi and probably some other family criteria. Then my guess is that this same woman arranges the place and time for you to meet. I don’t know if phone numbers are exchanged, but my guess is that all initial interactions between the first few dates are done through the matchmaker. After a few encounters you get engaged, which is pretty quickly followed by the wedding. You do not co-habitate, not even in the sense of hanging out with him on your couch and you don’t even hold his hand.

My experience when someone sets me up or I set myself up via the internet, is that we have some initial phone conversation or sometimes even email conversation to see if it’s worth meeting in person. It’s an awkward, interview-like conversation that then leads to where we want to meet. The actual first date usually goes like I pictured all these Orthodox dates taking place. Substitute coffee for juice and we’re all probably having similar conversations about our families, where we came from, what we like to do, etc.

That’s probably where the similarities end. While they continue to meet in hotel lobbies or potentially in their parents’ living rooms with their parents present, we go out for dinner and drinks, watch movies on the couch, hold hands and even kiss out in public as we walk down the street, etc. There is plenty of time alone as well as with family and friends before a possible engagement is even on the horizon. And really who is to say which method is better?

I know that I’m just talking at the surface level here. There’s a lot more we can get into in terms of similarities and differences, which is why the subject piqued my interest so much. I know that there’s pros and cons to both dating scenarios, but I take some comfort in our initial blind dates being pretty similar.

After almost 20 years, I finally made it back to Israel. I’d heard so much about how I wouldn’t recognize the country and all its changes in the last two decades, so I was excited for what was in store.

In talking to one of my brothers right before going, I expressed my disappointment in arriving at night and not truly being able to relish in the “Welcome to Israel” sign I remembered as we disembarked the plane and walked into the airport. My brother laughed saying “That’s not there anymore!” looking at me like I was from another planet. Apparently there’s now a jet bridge. I’m all for modern times and I’m sure it’s a pain when it’s raining or cold out, but quite honestly it’s one of the most vivid memories I have of arriving to Israel at 15. Oh well, I guess things have to evolve.

For my first few days there, I was in shock at how little I remembered about the country. It was like I had never been there before. And not because the country changed so much, but because I had little recollection of what I had visited or not back then (besides the kotel).

I have many memories of that trip to Israel: repelling, eating with the Bedouins, spending a couple of days and nights in the desert, our week in the “army”, learning Krav Maga, sleeping on the beach in Nitzanim, going to a club called Coliseum, and much more. It’s not that I’ve blocked the trip out, but as we walked through the streets of Jerusalem and Tel Aviv it all felt new.

It was different to experience it at 35 with my mother then it had been at 15 with forty friends. Both great experiences, but different. In Jerusalem, besides seeing all the sites and museums, I got to see my family that lives there and go to my cousin’s wedding (more on that later). In Tel Aviv, I got to see old and new friends and ate some pretty amazing meals. I got to refresh on my Hebrew although more in my head than out loud. It’s amazing that you can be fluent at a language in your teens and now feel tongue tied even trying to get out a simple sentence. Almost everyone speaks English, so I didn’t practice too much, but I did start feeling much more comfortable with the language as we got towards the end of the trip.

As I got ready for my trip, a lot of people kept telling me that I wouldn’t want to come back and/or that I should move there. I could tell you definitively that while I loved it, I wouldn’t want to live there. It’s nothing against the country…I think it’s just that I’m too Americanized and I wouldn’t want to move so far away from family. Obviously, if I had to, it wouldn’t be the worst place to be 🙂

With everything that happened in Paris and that is happening throughout Europe, I thought a lot about how lucky we are that Israel exists.I knew this prior to the trip, of course, but the anti-Semitism happening in the world right now really validated that for me. In recent weeks and months, Jews from France and the Ukraine have easily been able to immigrate to Israel finding a safe place to live. I find solace that should anything happen in the States, that I have a place to call home.

It’s been overwhelming receiving the notes of support from so many of you after reading my blog. Sometimes with social media it’s easy to believe that many friends are just Facebook friends, but when you get a message from those that you may not have spoken to in awhile, you remember those true connections. I appreciate everyone’s support no matter what choice I make.

I do want to comment on the issue of selfishness, which a few of you have brought up to me upset that anyone would call motherhood selfish. For starters, the friend that told me this was selfish, no longer feels that way. I understand your reactions because mine was the same in the beginning, but once I sat back and thought about it, I understood what she was telling me. It’s not that being a mother is selfish. Like one of you told me, being a mother is the most unselfish thing you can ever do. It is that choosing to bring a child into the world knowing that there’s a high probability that they will only have one parent and that they will never know a part of where they came from, can be unfair to the child.

Hopefully that last sentence makes sense. There are plenty of single mothers out there that didn’t plan to be single moms. There are moms whose partner disappeared out of their life before the child was born. But for the most (part, these moms can tell the child something about their father or their grandparents, etc.

This choice would be different. Besides the stats that I’d get at a sperm bank my child would not know much about part of his/her genetics. Perhaps at 18 years old, but not prior. People worry so much about the names they give to their kids so that they don’t get made fun of in the playground or grow up with some awkward sounding name. (Well, at leas many people do.) So think about how my decision will affect the child.

I got some comments from people refuting all the “cons” that were in my essay on motherhood and I want to explain that these are just pros and cons that flow through my mind. It’s perhaps my over analytic self, but I always try to look at things from multiple angles. I see the validity in the statement that this choice could be seen as selfish, however I also see the side where I create such a nurturing home for the child surrounded by my family.

I have for the most part pushed out of my mind that having a child on my own would be selfish. For awhile I heavily considered adoption, which is still on the table, however I’m leaning more heavily to carrying my own child.

Adoption felt like an avenue that would truly be unselfish because I’d be giving a child a home who may otherwise not have one. I also wouldn’t be “robbing” anyone of a two parent home if the other option was no parents. I’ve always thought about adoption. Even when I was younger I considered conceiving a couple of children and then also adopting.

The ultimate truth, though, is that I’d prefer to experience pregnancy. I know it won’t be magical all the time. My feet swell now, so I can only imagine. But I’d like to feel someone growing inside me: the kicks, the heartbeat, and that undeniable connection. If I can get pregnant I’d like to.

I still have doubts that flow through my head. One minute I think this is a great idea and the next I think I’m crazy, so what I’ve decided to do so far is research and start down the initial path for trying to conceive. I’ve been reading up. I joined Single Mother by Choice (SMC), which has an amazing online forum with tons of women who are thinking about this, who are pregnant and/or already have children of their own. The forum has been enlightening, comforting and stressful all at once. There’s so much I hadn’t even thought of when it comes to sperm banks and making that choice, fertility, and questions to ask your doctor.

It is a bit overwhelming and I don’t know if in the end I’ll go through with it, but I’m starting down that path. I want to go to the doctor and understand where I should be starting. I want to start prepping my body for pregnancy in case that is my final decision. While doing that, I’m still keeping my eyes open for a potential suitor…still weeding through online dating sites to see if there’s a hidden gem.

I plan to continue sharing my path with you. I’ll share my doubts, the ups and downs and where this all may lead.

This is the personal essay that I worked on for the last couple of years. The last time I edited it was in March of this year when I submitted it in a writing class I was taking. It’s a bit long, but hopefully you stick it through. Some of my thoughts have shifted since then, so in my next post I’ll fill you in on where I currently stand.

34…single…female…The age keeps changing, but the relationship status does not. It’s been quite awhile since I’ve been in a long term relationship. While I desire a partner in life, a best friend to spend my days with, what I yearn for even more is motherhood. It’s not just a yearning from the heart, but I feel it from my ovaries…from the center of my being.

Throughout college and adult life, I have gone back and forth on what type of career I want to have and whether I even want to have a career at all. The one constant has always been that I want to have children. I want to bear at least one child and then possibly adopt. A mother is what I feel I was meant to be above all else.

I’ve watched my friends and my cousins and even one of my younger siblings go through pregnancies, infants, toddlers and now mini adults.

At some point in my mid to late 20’s I decided that if I hadn’t met the right person when I turned 30, then I would just go ahead and have a baby by myself. But then I turned 30 and didn’t feel ready, so I pushed it back to 35. In a way, I didn’t want to “give up” yet on finding the right guy and building a traditional family unit. Over the last three to four years I’ve gone over and over in my head whether I want to wait until 35, whether I want to freeze my eggs and keep waiting for him to show up, or whether the fact that I haven’t met the right person means that I wasn’t meant to be a mother after all.

I have watched time and time again people around me having trouble getting pregnant. As a teenager it seems like it could happen by just laying naked next to a guy. You become sexually active and then are anxious the weeks between your period fearing the worst, even though you took every precaution. The reality is that it is hard to get pregnant and now I am afraid that when I’d ready my body won’t be. This is where freezing my eggs come in, which I have been thinking about before the E! reality shows dedicated episodes to it. It seems simple in concept, but it’s like preparing for IVF…injections, hormones, etc. These are all things I’d rather go through with a partner, but then ironically I’m going through it because I don’t have one.

The part of me that just wants to go ahead with insemination and have the baby on my own is having an internal debate on whether this is selfish. Yes, I want to be a mother and I feel strongly that even alone I would be able to raise a great kid. But, is it selfish to the child? I actually never thought about it that way until I was out with a friend and we were talking about it.

She pretty much blurted out, “That’s kind of selfish, don’t you think?” I stared at her blankly while she continued, “Just because you really want something, doesn’t mean you should do it without thinking of how it could affect this kid who had no choice in the matter.”

While at first I angrily brushed it off, later I couldn’t get it out of my head? Is it selfish of me to decide for the child that she will not have a father? To make the decision for the her that I won’t be as available? In my mind, if I were married and we could afford it, I
would spend my children’s early years at home, at least part time. I would be there for all those early moments. I would also be there for all the school meetings, after school activities, etc. Even if I was working full time, having a partner in parenthood would mean that we could take turns attending the school plays or parent teacher conferences while still keeping up with our careers. However, deciding to go at it alone would mean that I wouldn’t be able to be 100% dedicated to being a parent and to my career. I couldn’t have it all, as I was led to believe throughout my years at Smith.

So is it selfish for me to bring the child into the world because I want to be a mother so badly, but then not be able to be the type of mother I want to be? I know that there are thousands of single mothers out there who do a fantastic job, but the majority of them didn’t go into motherhood knowing that they would be single; that they would have to do this alone. They do it because that’s how the cards were dealt, but I would knowingly be choosing to go at it alone.

This is the argument I ended up having with a friend who was in the middle of a divorce with three kids, one of which she had pre-marriage. She thought I was being ridiculous to even question whether it was selfish. She was appalled I would even bring it up next to our other friend who was trying to get pregnant with her husband and had zero intention on putting the brakes on her career. I could see where she was coming from. The thing is that we are all different. No two women are alike in the way they feel or think or in what they want out of life. Neither of my friends planned for pregnancy without a husband. While one of them did get pregnant at 17 without a husband, she didn’t plan it. It happened and she dealt with it raising a son who is now a teenager himself. Most single mothers happen into single motherhood. They didn’t dream of that growing up.

Other women who choose to balance motherhood with a full speed ahead career want this life. They don’t want to compromise either and that is the right choice for them. There are those who don’t have the choice and have to balance both. If I went into this alone, I would fall into the latter category. While that’s a fine choice, it would not have been my ideal choice and I’d be compromising the time I’d want to spend with my child…seeing her for a short morning ritual and then not again until dinner and bath time trying to squeeze all fun bonding activities plus errands into the weekend.

I would also be somewhat deciding that my child would be an only child. Not only would she not have a father, but also it be just the two of us. Going at it alone would be hard enough financially and mentally, so thinking about a second on my own is probably not in the cards. Some of my best memories growing up involve my brothers: chasing after each other, inventing a game called the Wedgie Game which my younger brother somehow didn’t realize was a prank, and having a buffer or distraction when we were stuck with our parents for too long in a confined car (without DVD’s) on road trips. As adults we’ve bonded in a completely different way and I can’t imagine not having these relationships in my life. Who am I to knowingly deprive my child of that experience?

I also live in a community where this isn’t the norm. Perhaps if I lived in another state or even country it would be a different story, but I live in a very close minded Latin Jewish community in South Florida. That’s obviously a huge generalization, but the reality is that the majority get married by their mid-20’s, most of the women don’t work full time, and gossip circulates like crazy. If you are getting divorced, which at this point is pretty normal, within 24 hours everyone is talking about what happened, who cheated, and how they saw it coming. The truth is that anyone who doesn’t live their life in a traditional sense has moved away; it’s just easier that way I guess.

In all honesty I don’t care about what they think of me and my decisions. I know they already think I’m a lesbian because I am not married and went to Smith. What other reason would there be for not having a revolving door of boyfriends or a husband by now?! Little do they know, that if I was gay, I would be with a woman and wouldn’t care.

So I am not too concerned for myself and what they would all say if I show up to shul for Rosh Hashana pregnant and single, but I am more concerned for my family. I know it would hurt my mom to have all these people talking about me and I know that in the end it would be hard for my child growing up as the fatherless child in this community.

But if I throw all of that out the window, why shouldn’t I be a mother? So what if I knowingly choose single motherhood? The one thing I’ve seen from family and friends is that you can attempt to plan out how you expect to raise your children, but then having them is a completely different story. Nothing goes exactly how you planned. I could go at this alone and make it work for me…for my family unit. It wouldn’t be easy and I would need the support of my family, but I could do it and do it well.

The last part of me thinks in the traditional sense. I am not a very religious person, but this part of me contemplates the whole idea that if G-d wanted me to have children, then it would be when I am married and the “natural” order of things occurs. Should I be taking this into my own hands and going ahead with insemination or freezing my eggs? Or should I just wait and see if I meet that right guy and hopefully get pregnant? Maybe at the end of the day I am not meant to have my own kids. Maybe I am meant to be the awesome aunt and take care of other people’s kids. Everyone has a purpose and perhaps mine is not motherhood in the sense I’ve always thought.
Whatever my path is, I still don’t know. I hate that as a woman I have to make a decision fairly soon and can’t let too much time pass to see what happens. I tend to overanalyze many decisions, but the best ones, the ones that have significantly impacted my course in life, have been more gut reactions. I think I’ll patiently await to see where life takes me between now and 35 and then I might just go with my gut.

Last week I turned 35.

It’s been an interesting wave of emotions about hitting this point in my life. I know that might sound strange. What’s so significant about 35? Mid-decade birthdays seem to hit me harder than when I officially enter that new decade. I had actually looked forward to turning 30.

If you look back at my very first blog post, I waxed poetic about how great my 30’s have been using all the clichés about finally finding yourself and being more confident than in your 20’s. Needless to say, I wasn’t really expecting this birthday to feel as momentous as it has.

These last couple of weeks notwithstanding, I’m in a good mental state. I am happy with who I am. Everyone close to me is healthy. I have my own home. And while I haven’t completely sorted out the career aspect of things, I am entering 2015 with a new position and challenge at work. I do hope that the challenge aspect of it brings some excitement to work where I feel my previous role has started to feel stagnant and repetitive. So all in all, things are good.

There are obviously things that I strive for in life that haven’t panned out yet and perhaps the emotions I’m feeling is me partly coming to terms with what may or may not be in the cards. I do want a family of my own and I don’t know anymore if it will happen in the way that I always envisioned.

I had stopped writing the blog in part because I got swept up in work again and feeling too tired to write in the evenings, which I know is a lame excuse. But I also stopped because I was holding back on sharing my true journey. I didn’t want to write about trivial things. I had said I would take you all along my new journey in adulthood, but wasn’t being completely honest. I kept debating in my mind how much or how little I wanted to share. I wasn’t sure how vulnerable I wanted to continue being and I wasn’t sure I wanted all the comments that might come my way. I’m not one who really likes everyone giving me advice or telling me what I should do…I’m stubborn like that.

As I’ve mulled over how I’ve been feeling over the last few weeks, I realized that I do want to continue sharing my journey openly with all of you. For several years I’ve had a deadline in my mind that if I turned 35 and had still not met the “one” that I’d start moving forward with having a child on my own. I’ve recently learned that’s referred to as a Single Mother by Choice. One thing is saying that to yourself when you’re 30, but another thing is actually reaching the deadline and still being single.

My only ground rule for being completely open and honest with all of you is that you don’t pity me. Because I don’t pity me. Do I wish I’d met the right guy by now? Sure. Do I wish I was married and having a baby? Sure, but only if I was married to the right person. I don’t want to settle just so that I won’t be alone or just so that I can have a child in a more conventional way.

A couple of years ago, I started writing a personal essay about my desire to be a mother and my struggle with the decision process of going at it on my own. It’s a piece that I kept refining even using it in a writing class I took earlier this year. Tomorrow I’ll share that essay with you guys so that you can see what led me to this point and then I’ll let you know where I am today.

For all of you who have been on the edge of your seat waiting to hear what happened with my leak, they were able to fix it without breaking the floor. The poor guy was under the crawl space in like 90 degree weather fixing it. So for now all is good on the home front.

I did hurt my lower back in yoga a couple of weeks ago and instead of taking it easy I pushed it enough to be in real pain on Sunday. I had a moment of panic when I was getting up from a chair and my whole lower back tensed up. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to move on my own and my mind was racing with how I’d reach the phone to call someone. But I hobbled my way up somehow and have managed through the pain. I’m doing a lot better, but still feel some pain and have to remind myself not to push it. It’s hard to resist picking up my niece and nephew…

What’s amazing is how much you don’t realize that you actually use your back for simple things like walking. Everything is interconnected. Part of it is also realizing when you should be using the strength in other areas of your body instead of relying on your back. I guess it’s helped me be more conscious of my body movements. I’m just hoping that it’s not one of those slight pains that stays with you forever. I sprained my ankle in college and every once in awhile it still bothers me, which seems crazy for having just tripped going down the stairs. So I’m hoping that my back pain doesn’t keep cropping up.

While homeownership is a huge accomplishment and there’s this utter glee when you sign those legal documents making it yours, there are the definite pitfalls that come along with it. When I bought my house someone told me that I’ll have probably have buyer’s remorse for the first year as I fix the place up and find more things that need fixing than what I had originally anticipated.

That was definitely true those first few months as just “wanting to redo the kitchen and master bath” led to a much heftier and costlier to do list. But once I moved in, it was all worth it. I really do love my house.

The things is that once you’re past those initial move-in fixes, other repairs pop up. One day it’s the water heater needs replacing. Another day the AC is leaking. All of those have been pretty manageable.

Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been dealing with a leak in my plumbing that’s been difficult to identify. After numerous opinions and sonar equipment, there are 2 plumbers under my house as I type this post. And this is only Plan A to see if they are able to fix it this way without breaking any floors or walls. Fingers crossed Plan A works.

My house has its original terrazzo floors from the 50’s, so it’s basically irreplaceable. Breaking the floor means replacing it with something subpar. I’ve resigned myself to the fact that I’ll have to deal with different floor in my bedroom (where apparently the leak is) if that’s what it comes to.

While I listen to the drilling or whatever that is, I’m hoping it’s a manageable, solvable problem that won’t drag on much longer. There’s the cost for something like this which is obviously a strain and there’s the stress of what’s felt like a mystery diagnosis on my house’s pipes.

Here’s hoping that mystery is solved and fixed in the near future.

This week I’ve been interviewing candidates to be my replacement at work. It’s been interesting to say the least. It is a slightly different mindset or approach than when you’re interviewing people that will report to you.

Regardless of the position, personality and energy are big factors for me. They are by no means the only factor, but I do pay close attention to whether I click with the person and whether I can see myself working well with him or her.

Personality is still important for me with this position, but I don’t have to focus as much on whether I’d be able to work with the person. It’s more if I think they’d work well with everyone else. Will they be able to handle my bosses sometime cryptic decisions without getting too frustrated? Do they have too much of an ego that can potentially rub some of their peers the wrong way? Are they strong enough while still being tactful to push certain things through?

The candidates have been somewhat opposites thus far and I have a feeling that my boss and I have different favorites.

The other part that has been interesting is to hear them talk about certain aspects of the job as pretty simple, like “oh it should be a breeze!” I know it’s an interview and they are essentially selling themselves, so of course I try my best to gauge the BS. However it’s hard not to come out of those interviews thinking, It’s the best thing for the company that I’m leaving because these guys seem to have a lot more figured out than I do.

I know that’s not completely true and that there’s plenty of strengths I have that they don’t possess. But I also know that they can bring a lot to the table from outside experience that will benefit the company.

Overall we have some pretty good candidates so far with a few more lined up to come in, so hopefully I can get past the awkward interviews and onto having one of them start. The flexible schedule has been really nice, but it’s made the work load heavier when I’m there. Having someone finally onboard and in training will help alleviate that.

I was living in New York on September 11, 2001.

Thirteen years later I can still go back to exactly how I felt that day and the weeks following it. I had just moved to NY 3 months prior after graduating from college. I was adjusting to post-college life and trying to find what that first job would be. That morning I was actually sleeping when it happened. My mother called me and told me to turn on the news. At that point everyone still thought that a small plane had accidentally flown into one of the towers. But then I watched as something else hit the second tower. I froze in horror trying to grasp what was happening. Like everyone else, including the news reporters, we were just trying to piece together what this all meant.

I lived in the West Village just a block north of Soho. My roommate had headed for her 2nd day of work in one of the buildings right next to the World Trade Center. I had no idea what time she had left or where she could be.

Out of my balcony which faced north, I could see people standing on the corner facing South looking at the towers. Part of me wanted to go down and join them, but I was terrified. As I watched the 1st tower fall on TV, I simultaneously heard those people gasping as they saw it directly. Even if they never showed the footage on TV or online again, I could still close my eyes and see the building engulfed in a cloud of dust and then disappear.

A little while later the 2nd tower fell. I paced in my apartment, not really knowing what else was to come. About fifteen minutes later my roommate walked through the door. I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy to see anyone. She was in an adjacent building when they decided to evacuate and her and a group of friends just started walking uptown. She didn’t even know that the towers had fallen because she hadn’t looked back. She does have a scar on her leg where some debris fell as she walked to work when the first tower was hit.

All traffic below 14th street was shut down. That night a friend and I went to the corner grocery store and there was complete silence as people walked down the aisles with the same bewildered look. The next morning we went to Brooklyn to my friend’s apartment. The streets were eerily empty as we made our way to the subway. Our typical subway route took us through the WTC, so we had to take the detour and ended up on an outdoor platform switching trains. I remember seeing papers everywhere along the tracks, which I can only assume flew out of the buildings.

I spent the next several days in Brooklyn with a direct few of the smoke still billowing from lower Manhattan. There was just deep sadness and fear of what would come next. Other attacks? War? War on US soil?

The city smelled for months. It’s really an indescribable smell. The best I can do is say that it was a mixture of death and steel. Every time a police or fire truck siren sounded you could feel everyone around you tense up and pause. Something that was a normal background sound of the city, now created a sense of panic.

Every year on September 11th, I remember the dread as I waited for my roommate to come. I recall the eeriness of that night and the next morning in an empty city. I breathe a little heavier.

Even though I only lived in New York for that one year, having been there at that time has cemented an even stronger connection for me with that city.

It’s impossible for me to ever forget.