After my divorce, I chose to become a single mother through sperm donation, determined to raise a child on my own. I was 28, and after Ethan made it clear he didn’t want kids, I decided to go ahead with the plan. My best friend Olivia was skeptical, but I was set. I carefully selected a donor, avoiding the chaos of dating, and soon after, I underwent insemination.
Nine months later, I moved to Connecticut with my new son, Alan, to start fresh. Over the next eight years, I embraced motherhood, raising Alan as a single parent. But when my mother fell ill, I moved back to my hometown in Georgia. However, once we arrived, old friends began reacting oddly to Alan, staring at him with surprise and whispering. I brushed it off as small-town gossip, but it kept happening.
One day, I ran into my old friend Jude at a summer festival. He looked shocked when he saw Alan, and it hit me—Alan looked exactly like Jude did at that age. It dawned on me that Alan might be his son, conceived after my farewell party where Jude had stayed close to me. The timing matched, but I hadn’t realized until now.
Jude and I agreed to take a paternity test to confirm. While I wasn’t sure how his wife would feel, I knew Jude would want to be a part of Alan’s life if the test proved he was the father. My life as a single mother was about to change, and I wasn’t running from it anymore. Sometimes the best stories are the ones we never planned.