“My fertility wasn’t going to wait for the perfect man so I chose to become a single mother”

Becoming a single mother wasn’t what I had envisioned for myself when I was younger. Like most people, I had always imagined my life would follow the traditional course—fall in love, get married, and then have a baby. Little did I know that life had other plans. I grew up in Sydney, Australia, as an only child. While my family has always remained strongly rooted in our heritage, my parents ensured I received a balanced upbringing with a blend of traditional values and modern ideals. Though protective, they gave me the space to become my own person.

When my 30s arrived, I felt ready to settle down; but life doesn’t always unfold the way you expect. After a string of failed relationships, I realised that love just wasn’t on the cards and my fertility wasn’t going to wait for the perfect man to arrive. I was meeting prospective partners, but no one held the potential of being ‘the one.’ So, around my mid-30s, I began seriously considering a thought that had always lingered in the back of my mind—becoming a mother on my own.

During the pandemic, around the time I turned 35, a health scare led me to have the fertility conversation with my doctor. Like it or not, it is a fact that women’s fertility begins to decline after the age of 35. She said that if I wanted to have kids, this was my cue to start thinking about it. The window of possibility was starting to shrink. At the time, I didn’t know how or when I’d want to have a child, but I wanted to keep my options open. To outwit my biological clock and buy some time, I froze my eggs. I also began talking to my parents about the prospect of having a child on my own if I didn’t find a partner. Adoption had been an option too, but given how long and complex that process can be, IVF became the natural next choice.

By 38, I had decided I was going to have a child. I wasn’t willing to let my dream of becoming a mother slip away because of society’s conditions. I was already financially independent and felt ready to become a single mother through IVF.

Talking to my parents about this was one of the hardest parts of this process. They had always supported my choices, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t just a hypothetical discussion—this was real. Much to my surprise, my father, who is slightly conservative, backed me instantly. He said, “We live in different times now; I’m so proud of you for taking this step.” My mother took slightly longer to come around, perhaps being concerned about what people would say. But eventually, she was on board, and I couldn’t have gone ahead without their support.

While I had moved to Delhi for work, I returned to Sydney, where my parents still lived, for the IVF procedure. Having already frozen my eggs, the process of obtaining an embryo was relatively smooth. Choosing a donor was an integral step—my parents and I wanted someone who resembled our family and heritage as much as possible, both ethnically and physically. That way, my child would not question his physical identity growing up. We sifted through donor profiles and eventually found a suitable option. IVF can be emotionally draining and expensive, but I was lucky in that my first embryo transfer was successful, which isn’t always the case for many women.

When I found out I was pregnant, I was overjoyed, scared and overwhelmed—all at once. But mostly, I felt ready. After conceiving, I moved back to Delhi while my parents continued living in Sydney. They would travel back and forth often to visit me, but there were still times when I felt lonely. You need a really strong sense of self to go through with such a decision. I often felt alone during doctor’s appointments, but I didn’t dwell on those feelings for too long. It also helped that work kept me occupied.

After my delivery, I went through bouts of postpartum depression. Even though I had my support system, there were times when I wished for a partner to share this experience with. Still, I’ve never regretted my choice. In fact, I wished I had done it sooner. I was expecting to face judgment and have people question my decision to become a single mother through IVF. But I was pleasantly surprised with the acceptance and encouragement I received. The medical staff at the hospital in Delhi was incredibly supportive, and I was showered with admiration from relatives and friends. People were in awe that I had taken such a bold step, and that was empowering.

While my experience has been overwhelmingly positive, there were a few instances of disbelief. I remember while completing hospital paperwork, a staff member insisted I fill out the father’s details in the form. The idea that I had done this on my own, without a husband, seemed completely alien to her. Several women in my circle reached out to say they were considering similar decisions but were afraid of the stigma. We need to normalise these conversations, to show that there are several ways to build a family and all of them are valid.

We live in a society that often glamorises the traditional family structure but I’ve learned that love and care aren’t bound by marriage or a male-centred family structure. Families come in all shapes and sizes, and what matters most is the love and security you provide. There’s this misconception that children of single parents can’t be happy or successful, but that’s simply not true. I am raising my son with the love and support of my family and a close network of friends, and he will grow up surrounded by people who adore him.

To any woman who feels trapped by societal expectations, I want to say that you don’t have to follow the traditional path if it doesn’t feel right. You don’t need permission to live the life you want. If you do decide to break away from the norm, you will possibly need two things—financial independence and the resilience to stand up to naysayers. Because our society is judgemental, and overcoming the fear of being judged and not accepted was, in retrospect, my biggest challenge.

As for love? I’m open to it, but it’s no longer my primary focus. I have two babies to take care of right now—my one-year-old son and the creative business I’m building. The presence of my son has filled the void I once felt in the absence of a romantic partner. I do hope I meet someone down the road, but if that happens, it will just be a bonus.

This is a personal account as told to Shivani Pathak