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It all started with these little chocolate colored pink and blue ceramic babies. They were a strange Christmas gift from an older family friend who, I assumed, didn’t realize that baby figurines were better suited for a person with a nursery and not someone who uses her spare bedroom for dirty laundry.
But the friend, Ms. Rosalie, made it clear that these brown babies on rocking horses were not a mistake. They were a reminder that my childbearing years were slowly ticking away, and that I should try to have a child soon whether or not I was married. I nervously laughed and hid the gift in the basement of my mother’s house.
A few months later, after an unsurprising breakup, I looked at the fading surgery scar across my abdomen — the remnant of surgery I had eight years earlier to remove uterine fibroids and treat endometriosis — and realized it was time to heed Ms. Rosalie’s advice. I started thinking about freezing my eggs.
A lot of people are talking about egg freezing: It’s the latest...
