After a grueling year of trying to conceive as a single female while living a nomadic lifestyle abroad, I began to wonder if this was the right path to parenthood for me. “What other options do I have?” I asked myself, heartbroken and mad at my body for failing me when I needed it the most. Well, I could find a partner to have children with — everyone else does it, why not? — but then I remembered that’s exactly what I’d been searching unsuccessfully for over the past twenty years. Knowing I’m too picky and impatient to continue with the literal manhunt, I briefly considered surrogacy. Briefly, like for five seconds, because that path is rife with emotional and ethical issues I wasn’t ready to consider. So, that left one possible option: adoption.