We Weave the Threads in Ways That Suit Us
Content notes: fertility journey, hope after struggle, resource-heavy post
Earlier this week, I wrote about glimmers dimming. About everything being so fucking hard. About threads feeling too thin to hold all this weight. I was in meltdown territory, unsure if it was PTSD, my AuDHD, the weight of local and global politics, the relentless ache of watching my friends struggle, my workload, the dailiness of disabled life alone, or simply the cumulative pressure of this fertility journey pressing down all at once.
And then—ten minutes into my fertility therapy appointment yesterday—something shifted.
After a brutal day of work, my second therapy session of the week, and the usual wrestling with existence, I logged into that telehealth call. Within minutes, I wasn’t just regulated, not just okay. I felt lifted. The weight I’d been dragging—grief, anger, anxiety—suddenly dissolved.
(Is this what finding the right support feels like? Because holy shit.)
I am more resolved than ever to have a baby. A child. To bring life into this broken, beautiful world—not to fill some aching absence (though I admit, purpose is a complicated question for me), but as an act of defiance, of love, of stubborn hope. I’ve genuinely always wanted children.
Being Held
When I shared my darker posts earlier this week, friends wrote back with tenderness. They reminded me that crashes often follow highs, that our vessels are built to hold intensity, and that righteous anger has its place. They reminded me, too, that I’m not just enduring but paving a way—for gender-nonconforming people, enbies, T-boys, queer kids—that correcting misgendering is not an obligation but a chosen gift. They see me as kind, fiercely loving, compassionate, smart, and resilient. *blush*
Sometimes it takes another’s eyes to remind us of who we are when the darkness is too thick. (Thank you, truly.)
Even the person I’m dating—despite their own life happenings—reached out to say they were thinking of me. That simple gesture brought a warm glow through my body. I feel… different in the dating world these days. I still love the thrill of meeting someone new, but now I’m also thinking about what it means to choose love intentionally, while willing yourself to live a full life. To love someone as a whole entity, but not at the cost of loving myself less. It ties nicely to my relationship anarchy beliefs (which, for me, prioritize my emotional/physical safety, need for reciprocation, commitment to others, mutual agreement (it turns out moral value congruence matters a lot to me), transparency, agency/autonomy, and willful connection and love).
I keep circling back to bell hooks’ reminder in All About Love:
“Love is an act of will—namely both an intention and an action. Will also implies choice. We do not have to love. We choose to love.”¹
For so much of my life, I chased love in places it wasn’t—pouring myself into people without the capacity to hold me, and in doing so, hurting us both. I’m learning now: choosing/receiving love is not longing or desperation. It is clarity. It is boundary. It is honesty.
The Work of Readiness
I told my close friends: I think I’m just going through a lot (and when haven’t I?). Medication changes. Healing from surgery. The drop from intense social interaction to near isolation. The nervous anticipation of a fertility therapy appointment (after which I’ll be dropping several thousand dollars on sperm—it’s intense).
I also talked about boundaries I need with well‑meaning straight friends whose oblivious misgendering exhausts me. About flashbacks to childhood and adult abuse. About how doubt creeps in, especially when things are going well (and they are, in so many ways). About feeling old and striking out in dating despite all the work I’ve done on myself.
And you know what? After that appointment, after feeling truly heard and resourced, I’m ready. Ready to buy sperm by the end of the month. Ready to prep for an October IUI (September’s pushing it, and calm/low stress is the priority). Ready to go on vacation with my two married friends and their child in September. Ready to keep self‑regulating, feeling my emotions—all of them—seeking help and reassurance from friends to co‑regulate, slowly working on myself.
Resources as Lifelines
My fertility therapist handed me resources that felt like lifelines. And I want to hand them to you. Because information is power, and because resourcing one another is survival. Resources must affirm queer, trans, and non-binary parents—not erase them.
Starter Essentials
Donor Conception Network – UK‑based organization offering workshops, online resources, and books personalized to your story. Includes resources geared to talking to children across ages. Publisher of Our Story, How We Became a Family,³ a children’s book for single mothers. They also offer PDFs for talking to friends, family, and schools.
Path to Parenthub – online webinars, resources, and community for families using donor conception. Includes supportive forums.
Donor Conception Journal Club – a research digest that summarizes peer‑reviewed studies.
Deeper Dives
(Note: These can be edited—likely through software—to use gender-neutral language. Just as a reminder, I use they/them, he/him, and ze/zir pronouns as a non-binary genderfluid person.)
Building Your Family: The Complete Guide to Donor Conception
Finding Our Families: A First‑of‑Its‑Kind Book for Donor‑Conceived People and Their Families (by the founder of the Donor Sibling Registry)
We Are Family (summarizing 40 years of research on families, with a chapter on single mothers by choice)
Inconceivable: Super Sperm Donors, Off‑the‑grid Insemination, and Unconventional Family Planning (journalist’s chronicle of becoming a single mother by choice)
For children:
What Makes a Baby – picture book explaining conception basics
Happy Together – about a single mother using sperm donation
Liam’s Blueprints – for older children, introduces DNA and inheritance
And That’s Their Family and The Family Book – inclusive family stories
Sperm Donation
US Donor Conceived Council’s sperm bank traffic light chart analyzing policies and practices
And Baby Makes More – stories from queer families using known donors
Agencies like Seed Scout or Coast to Coast if exploring known donor matching
Advanced Resources
Guttmacher Map² – up‑to‑date state‑by‑state abortion law overview
Facebook Groups – IVF/IUI Single Mothers by Choice; Single Mothers by Choice (founded 2011); Donor Conceived Best Practices
Donor Conceived Community – nonprofit supporting donor‑conceived people, parents, donors
US Donor Conceived Council – advocacy for the rights of donor‑conceived individuals
Embryo Donation – EMpower by Moxi and Embryo Connections (education and matching)
Podcasts – The Queer Family Podcast; Building Your Family; Pregnant Together
ASRM Reading List – Your Future Family (Bergman, 2019), An Excellent Choice (Brockes, 2018), Single by Chance, Mothers by Choice (Hertz, 2008), Single Mothers by Choice (Mattes, 1997), Going Solo (Roberts, 2020), Unsung Heroines (Sidel, 2006)
Joy, Impermanence, and Threads
Last night, after a rough week for both of us, my brother and I watched KPop Demon Hunters over video chat. Absurd fight scenes, silly joy. Serious shadow-work themes. And yet, somewhere in the song and laughter, I remembered: joy is medicine too. Joy is fleeting, but it heals.
And fleetingness has been on my mind heavily. We’ve turned “forever” into the only acceptable definition of success. An institution that brought joy for years before closing? “Failed.” A marriage or relationship that was good until it wasn’t? “Failed.” A friendship that ran its natural course? “Not real enough.”
I’m so guilty of this type of black-and-white thinking. How many times have I just defaulted to “they just didn’t care!!”…?
But endings don’t erase goodness. It doesn’t make it less than some hypothetical eternal success. Choosing love in this season means choosing parenthood and continuing to date, to welcome love, and to invite different connections. My therapist validated this: that embracing love while trying to conceive isn’t a contradiction—it’s expansion. It’s life-affirming.
Perhaps this baby journey will teach me more about impermanence: holding things lightly while loving them fiercely.
The Scaffolding I Carry
I came to that appointment prepared. Overprepared (classic me). But this time preparation didn’t feel like armor against uncertainty—it felt like scaffolding for something I’m building. Something real. Something mine.
October IUI. That’s the plan (for now!). (September vacation first—because joy and rest are revolutionary acts too.)
The threads I once feared were too thin are weaving together—not into permanence, not into perfection, but into something present. My friends’ words. The therapist’s resources. My own stubborn insistence on thriving.
So yeah, again, the moon keeps cycling. The glimmers keep glimmering, even when unseen. I’m probably going to have intense feelings and meltdowns. And I’m still here, preparing to bring new life into this messy, vital, heartbreaking, heart-making world.
It’s not just “enough,” it is everything.
Questions for my audience (so far, only one of my friends shares her answers with me!): What are you building in your life that doesn’t need to last forever to matter? What threads are you weaving together, even when they feel too fragile to hold?
Selected References
bell hooks, All About Love: New Visions (2000, p. 4). hooks writes, “Love is an act of will — namely both an intention and an action. Will also implies choice. We do not have to love. We choose to love.” She argues that love is not merely a feeling but a deliberate choice we make, again and again, with clarity and accountability. This idea grounds my reflections on choosing parenthood and continuing to welcome love.
Guttmacher Institute, Abortion Policies in the U.S. Included above as part of the resource list, this contextualizes fertility decisions within broader reproductive rights.
Donor Conception Network, Our Story, How We Became a Family (children’s resource). Included in the resources section; demonstrates how narratives of family can be reshaped for inclusivity.