Growing up, how often do we encounter a story like this: a heroine goes out into the world to find her prince charming. They meet, and she lives happily ever after. She bears children, and the story abruptly ends there. It’s a narrative that’s ingrained in us since childhood; one where our womanhood is intrinsically linked to our ability to bear offspring. But as we mature and wade into the uncharted waters of adulthood, we begin to realise that adulthood and fertility is far more complex than these narratives. It’s not just about biology and reproduction; it’s about choice, agency, and the freedom to navigate our own paths.
I’ve been contemplating on what to write because if there had ever been a single moment where I felt the shift between ‘girlhood’ and ‘womanhood’, it would be the moment I decided to pursue egg freezing. It’s a humbling process and one that forces you to confront your bodily limitations. It’s also been enormously empowering. When so many decisions in life feel out of my control, preserving this aspect gives me agency and peace of mind about the future. But what nobody tells you is that there’s no mourning period between girlhood and womanhood. Overnight, all those early adulthood anxieties surrounding unplanned pregnancies are replaced by a new kind of fear: whether you’re able to conceive at all.
The most challenging part of the experience is confronting yourself: every life decision is magnified, exposing its imprint on the body. I thought about the decade I spent on a plane and how, at times, I missed periods from a prolonged travel schedule that dysregulated my circadian rhythm. I thought about the countless miles I’ve logged travelling by air, exposed to radiation. I thought about all the sleepless nights, the early flights, the rapidly-changing environments – all the invisible yet back-breaking toll of travel.
I think about the cost of how pursuing unconventional career goals can often come at the expense of motherhood. Studies show that prolonged periods of stress (both physical and emotional) significantly reduce fertility. I think about some of the misaligned partnerships I’ve had over the last few years, how perhaps I haven’t been totally honest with myself and my past partners about how deeply I desired motherhood, worried that any mention of this would “kill the vibe.” It turns out that situationships are not only bad for your mental health, but their emotional toll is bad for your fertility, too.
I decided to freeze my eggs when, at age 31, I pivoted careers. This year I’m starting to actualise dream projects that are taking my career into a new direction. I’ve never felt more creative and skilful in work. But while finally aligning with my life’s purpose brings me the greatest feeling of personal fulfilment, it comes with hesitation, wondering what the expense of pursuing this new path will take. How many years can I pour myself into this path? The desire for a thriving career and the looming pressure of a narrowing fertility window have never seemed more apparent. The pressure to synchronise career ambitions with the rhythm of this invisible clock becomes a symphony of stress, especially for women who dare to dream beyond traditional timelines.
But the challenges don’t end with personal timelines; they extend into the professional sphere, too. The workplace, with its outdated structures and often inadequate support systems, becomes a battleground for women attempting to balance career ambitions and reproductive choices. It’s a system that demands unwavering dedication to the job while offering minimal flexibility for life’s inevitable curveballs. The absence of policies like paid parental leave and flexible work arrangements exacerbates the obstacles faced by women navigating the intersection of career and fertility.
Then, there are the societal expectations, the subtle yet persistent nudges towards perfection – the superwoman who effortlessly excels in her career while seamlessly managing the demands of motherhood. The standards placed on women to be high-achieving professionals and nurturing caregivers create a tightrope many often find themselves walking with trepidation. We must advocate for a more inclusive and flexible career approach that recognises the multifaceted nature of women’s lives.
There’s also the economics of egg freezing that cannot be ignored – a hefty price tag requiring a dedicated amount of time and resources to pursue. Egg freezing is currently a luxury service; a privilege reserved for those with the financial means and time to invest in their reproductive future. In the US alone, the average spend starts at $10,000 and goes upwards to $30,000. It becomes abundantly clear that there needs to be a more holistic, intersectional approach to female fertility access. We need a healthcare system that emphasises greater empathy and understanding that centres women’s agency over their reproductive choices.
Fertility is a complex tapestry woven with threads of biology, emotions, and societal expectations. We’re bombarded with images of motherhood, whispers of our biological clocks, yet fertility is far more than just the ability to conceive. It’s about our individual choice and agency, our freedom to navigate our own paths. Some of us yearn for motherhood while others find fulfilment in other avenues. For some, the desire to conceive and bear children is deeply engrained in their sense of self and identity. From a young age, we are taught to equate adulthood with parenthood, to view the ability to reproduce as a fundamental marker of success and fulfilment. Yet, as we grow older and confront the realities of modern life, we come to realise that the path to parenthood is far from straightforward.
My biggest takeaway from this experience is that fertility is fragile. It requires a conscious care and stillness that modern life doesn’t endorse enough. Still, a medley of hope, uncertainty, and empowerment accompanies the decision to freeze one’s eggs. It’s about honouring our bodies, our choices, and our unique journeys – whatever they may be. We need to embrace the complexities of fertility, acknowledging that it’s not just about conception, but about the myriad ways we create and nurture life, both within and outside of ourselves.