An especially unique subset of single mothers is “choice moms,” or single women who have a child on their own, often by using anonymous donor sperm. Perhaps because they get pregnant so intentionally—through a long, deliberate, often expensive process—choice mothers are seen, by some, as rejecting all the trappings of family. They combine two of our biggest societal taboos: single motherhood and determined women. A fringe minority of people think choice moms are selfish or rash. More often, people volley choice moms with endless questions about their decision, making them make the choice, over and over, wherever they go.

I spoke with several choice moms who were able to withstand these societal pressures. The difference in how easy it was for them appeared to be how supportive their social circles were.

Aileen Budow was always independent, and she always wanted to be a mother. But she was forty-two, and she felt that perhaps her subconscious “ticktock” was becoming a bit of a turnoff on dates.

When she told her best friends she was considering becoming a mother on her own, they said, “We’ve been waiting for you to say this.” Her parents said, “What can we do? How can we do it?” Once she made the decision, it was easy, she said, to discard the notion of the stereotypically picture-perfect family and go it alone.

She describes the process of her pregnancy as one of being enveloped by positive energy from her family and friends. She did a “picking party” for the donor with her girlfriends. When they all picked the same three top contenders, she considered it beshert—Yiddish for “destiny.”

Her girlfriends cheered her on as she lay back with her legs in the air at IVF doctors’ appointments. Her office had a maternity leave party for her, and her coworkers chipped in to buy her a baby stroller.

Aileen sounded like one of the most empowered women I had ever met. Other women call her an inspiration and a mentor. (She nearly convinced me to have a child on my own, and I can barely keep plants alive.) When men on dates raise eyebrows at her being a choice mom, she simply deems them assholes, orders the most expensive tequila on the menu, and calls it an early night. She and her son live in New York, a city filled with diverse families in which plenty of kids have gay parents, biracial parents—the full gamut. People rarely ask her questions about where “the dad” is.

She’s happy to be the only one making parenting decisions for her son. When father-and-son things do come up—like a recent parents’ day at camp she couldn’t attend—her friends come to the rescue again, sending their husbands to be with her son for the day.