Freezing my eggs was the loneliest yet most empowering experience I’ve ever had, here’s why

“With each needle administered I felt more and more empowered. Twice a day I was showing up for myself, and taking charge of my future.”

When I first received my devastating fertility news, I didn’t realise how common it was. But as I continued down this path, I discovered many friends were going through IVF or had frozen their eggs for medical reasons. I also learnt I had friends who were in relationships that were opting to freeze their eggs, and then there were people in similar situations to me.

I’d gone through a pretty significant break-up a year prior (an 11-year relationship to be exact). As a 33-year-old female with a maternal instinct, I always thought we’d have kids together. After we broke up, I did the only thing I knew how to do. In a moment of empowerment, I took the situation into my own hands and got a fertility test.

Interested to hear how others navigate the world? Head to our Life section.

In a bit of an oversight, I had the results sent to me directly instead of via my doctor. So when the test results arrived in the mail, I was sent into a flurry of panicked googling and while we all know this is a bad idea, it turns out that my less-than-ideal Google diagnosis was correct.

My anti mullerian hormone (AMH) was lower than the normal range for my age. Having had an abortion at the age of 24, I’d naively assumed I would be able to get pregnant easily, so this news was very hard to take. My already ticking body clock felt like it was ticking faster than ever. I had well and truly entered the panic years.

I whipped into action and booked some specialist appointments, all the while trying to learn as much as I could about my newfound situation. The fertility world was not a world I knew anything about but I quickly became an expert. I learnt it was likely I would need to do two rounds to get the same amount of eggs that a person with a healthy AMH could get in one round.

So I started to mentally and financially prepare. This was the first time a very specific juxtaposition of emotions appeared – I felt so empowered that I was able to take action towards my future, and yet very lonely going through this experience without the support of a partner or family member.

Before you actually have the egg-freezing procedure, it’s suggested that you undertake a 90-day lifestyle change to boost the quality of your eggs. This means minimal alcohol (I was told five standard drinks a week, at most), no drugs, no smoking, healthy eating and a bucket load of daily vitamins and supplements. Most of this wasn’t too hard for me, living a relatively healthy lifestyle anyway, but where I struggled was the huge reduction in alcohol.

As someone with a rubber arm, it was very hard for me to decline that next glass of wine. Rightly or wrongly, drinking is often used as a signal that you’re having a good time, especially in the dating world. On one of my first dates after I started my new fertility-boosting lifestyle, I had to decide whether to lie and make up some excuse for not having that second glass of wine or to tell the truth. As a Sagittarius, the most honest zodiac sign, I naturally opted to tell the truth and started using it as a way to check for red flags.

Bringing up children on the first date is not my usual vibe, but I found it a reliable test of how I felt about a person. If I felt comfortable telling them about my egg freezing (and their reaction was positive) it was a green flag. If I felt uncomfortable (or there was a bad reaction) it was a red flag. It was about 50/50.

Being in my early 30s, many of my friends are happily partnered. This year is the first in a long time where I’ve been truly single and I was re-learning how to be alone again. Dating can be a lonely experience for anyone, but seeing how far away I was from where I wanted to be exacerbated my feelings of loneliness. After the three-month build-up, it was time to begin the injections for my first round of egg freezing.

I’d chatted to friends, read everything I could online, been to the pharmacy to learn how to administer the injections myself, watched the videos and read the pamphlets, but nothing could prepare me for the emotional onslaught of the first injection. It wasn’t so much the actual needle that overwhelmed me, it was the flood of emotions; I was grieving the past as well as grieving the future. As someone who also lives with anxiety, I was struck with an overwhelming worry that I would somehow screw up when administering the injection and that the whole process wouldn’t work.

Sitting on my bedroom floor, I finally dialled up my prescribed dosage and injected it into my stomach, then promptly collapsed into tears in a huge emotional release. At that moment, those same contrasting emotions appeared. I felt incredibly alone, yet extremely proud of myself for overcoming my fears. With each needle I administered, I felt more and more empowered. Twice a day I was showing up for myself, taking charge of my future and doing everything within my control to secure the outcome I desire. It became easier and easier until I quickly became completely unphased by the injections.

As part of the process, you must go to the clinic to have multiple scans and blood tests to check if your follicles are growing. As I sat in the waiting room, I looked around me and spotted a woman around my age with what seemed like her mother, and scattered couples huddling together. When I was called into the nurse’s office for my blood test, they asked if I was doing all of the injections myself. I replied, my voice full of emotion, “I sure am, if I don’t do it myself, no one else is going to do it for me!”.

Eleven days later, it was D-Day and I ubered myself to the hospital at 5.30am. While the procedure is relatively low risk, waking up from the anesthesia I was petrified but excited to learn how many eggs had been retrieved. I learnt I now had eight in the freezer, which was still a long way from the ideal number.

Five days after my first procedure, I started round two. I felt like I had just run a mental marathon, and I was mentally and physically exhausted. I was adamant that I wanted to continue so I could put this experience behind me and return to some semblance of normal life. I know that if I were to have children, my life would completely change. But after locking myself away in self-imposed isolation to avoid COVID before my hospital admission, I was craving connection and a sense of normalcy.

After debriefing with friends who have also recently frozen their eggs, I realised how wildly different our experiences were and that our feelings are a result of our life experiences and specific situations. I also know that I am so glad, despite the challenges, that I have frozen my eggs. I don’t know what the future brings, but I do know that I’ve done everything within my power to steer it in the direction that I want. I’m going it alone, but if that’s not empowering, I don’t know what is.

To learn more about freezing your eggs, head here.