525,600 Minutes to Single Motherhood

By Guest Blogger Janet Tarasofsky

Single mothers are created in all different ways– some through divorce, some by choice and some by pure chance.  I struggle to decide exactly which category I fall into… perhaps you can help me to decide?

The year is 2004 and I was living in London working for a very large company, when suddenly my amazing boss was abruptly fired and asked to leave the building. I was devastated and I began to re-evaluate staying within a large, cutthroat company without my boss.  It didn’t take long to reach the decision to change jobs.  Thankfully, after some searching, I found a promising new job.

But before resigning, I decided to take a holiday.  I booked a 2-week trip to Nepal where I would spend one week meditating in a Buddhist monastery, meditating, and another week in a 5-star hotel, relaxing.

There is 347,200 minutes left in the year, I’m in Nepal and I’m meditating with 50 people from around the world, when I start to feel extremely nauseous.  I run to the most prehistoric toilets you have ever seen (which does NOT help), and stay in there for about an hour before I manage to crawl back to my room, and wait for whatever horrible bug I have to pass.

But after 4,500 minutes, I realise that it is not passing!  I have not eaten anything in days and I decide that it is time to see a doctor.  I leave the monastery and go to the hospital in Kathmandu.  After some basic tests, the doctor speaks the words that will change my life forever: Janet, you are not sick, really. My dear, you are pregnant.

After 3,000 minutes, I regain my ability to speak, and I immediately start thinking: OMG! OMFG! This can’t happen to me! I am about to start a new life. A new job!  Having a kid is not part of the plan… Especially because I do not have a boyfriend!

I book myself on the first plane back to London, where I intend for this nightmare to end. But then I have this sudden realization: I have never been pregnant before, and I am 32. What if this is my only chance?  Within a split second, I know for certain that I am going to have this child.

When I get back to London, I make 3 very difficult phone calls:

1.   The first was to my parents.  I should tell you that I come from a very conservative Jewish family where I was bred to grow up, get a career, get married and move within 5 minutes of my parent’s house.  So when I call mom & dad from across the ocean, to tell them that I am about to become a single mother, it may not surprise you that they started crying: “Oye Gavolt Jan, how can you do this to US?! Where did we go wrong?!” And then my very favorite: “HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?”
I’m thinking…  I’m not strong enough for this.

2.   The second dreaded call was to my ‘friend,’ where I had to tell him the very exciting news that he is about to become a father.  Suffice to say, he is in no way excited, and he reacts in a similar way my parents do… asking me the same ridiculous question: How this could have possibly happened??  I began to wonder what part of sex-education these people never really grasped.
At the time I remember thinking…  I am really not strong enough for this.

3.  The third phone call is to my future employers.  I tell them the news and then I quickly assure them not to worry, I will not take more than 3 months off and that I will continue to achieve all our agreed objectives.  They thanked me for my honesty, and promptly send me a letter of withdrawal for the position offered.   Apparently the company felt that I was no longer suitable for the role after all, and they wish me the very best of luck in my future.
I now felt quite certain that I am NOT strong enough for this!

So just to sum up: I am pregnant, my family is not speaking to me, my ‘friend’ is not talking to me, I no longer have a new job, I am constantly sick, and to top it all off… I am told that I have gestational diabetes.  This means that I cannot indulge in any oversize chocolates during the ONE time in a woman’s life that she actually has a valid excuse to do so.

There are 20,000 minutes left in the year and I am in the Royal London Hospital in some serious pain, despite having been given enough drugs to sedate several horses. The midwives are exhausted, the doctors are close to tears wondering when I will get out of their labor unit.