I’m considering freezing my eggs because I’m 32 and have no idea if I want children

Every year I wait for ‘that feeling’. The feeling that I’m ready to give up my freedom and selflessly play the Frozen soundtrack on repeat during road trips.

About six weeks ago, I decided to pack up my car and go on a road trip up the east coast of Australia. When I left, I had no set itinerary, no return date; just my laptop and my podcast microphone so I could continue to work remotely. 

At a moment’s notice, I can decide to pack up and head to my next destination. Right now I’m typing away on my laptop in a small, sleepy surfer town in Queensland.

I’m sitting at an outdoor dining area, and next to me is a big family eating dinner. They’re chatting away, happy faces and sunburnt cheeks from a long day at the beach.

I, on the other hand, have spent the last few days completely alone. I needed undisturbed silence to contemplate the shitstorm that was 2020 and how I want to spend 2021. 

I look over and I wonder to myself, how does this family organise a quick getaway to the next town? The planning that would be involved makes my head spin. I remember my family’s holidays, where turning up anywhere without a booking just wasn’t an option. 

And getting a moment of alone time on a family car trip is like meditating during an episode of Grey’s Anatomy. My poor dad had to listen to me and my sister’s Tina Arena mixtapes on repeat, sometimes for six hours at a time.

Me, on the other hand – I’ve been blasting my music (mostly Harry Styles) and singing as loud as I like. This trip has been a rollercoaster of emotion, but I’m coming out the other side with more peace, more clarity and more of an idea of how I want to live my life post-COVID. 

It’s why I love to travel alone. You have time and space to figure shit out. But there’s one thing I still haven’t figured out. Kids. I turned 32 on this trip and every year I wait for ‘that feeling’.

The feeling that I’m ready to give up my freedom and selflessly play the Frozen soundtrack on repeat during road trips. But it hasn’t come. I feel selfishly stuck in my ways.

I can’t even let a man sleep over because I am unwilling to compromise a minute of sleep. I often wonder how I would cope with a screaming child in the middle of the night.

I recently interviewed writer Alexandra Collier for my podcast Single Minded. She is a single mother by choice who used a sperm donor in her late thirties to get pregnant.

She didn’t really get ‘that feeling’ until her late thirties, and as Alexandra puts it, “My romantic life was out of sync with my reproductive timeline”. 

I can totally relate to this. As I slowly move through my medically ideal child-bearing years, all I want to do is date 20-something guys who have no interest in having children. I chase the rush of the first kiss like there won’t be any first kisses left. I think I might be addicted to it.

I live for that feeling that consumes you in the hours and minutes before the first kiss. You’re tipsy and you’ve been talking for hours and your stomach is in a twisted knot, waiting patiently for a break in the conversation. 

But late at night, long after the 20-something guy has left so I can have my uninterrupted eight hours of sleep, I imagine my eggs shrivelling up.

It’s weighing on my mind so much so that I’ve been putting off getting a simple blood test to check my fertility, called the AMH test. This assesses your level of Anti-Mullerian Hormone (AMH) and can give a good indication of your ‘ovarian reserve’. 

But speaking to Alexandra has given me the nudge I needed. I may not be ready to give up first kisses, spontaneous travel plans, a blissful eight hours of sleep and singing at the top of my lungs to Harry Styles, but I am ready to plan for a future where those things are no longer as important to me. 

I recently spoke to a friend who had her eggs frozen. She also values all the freedoms that come with being an unattached, single woman. She told me that now she doesn’t feel she has to worry as much – she can continue to pursue her single life however the hell she chooses, without late-night visions of her eggs going up in flames. 

Even though it’s not a sure thing – and getting pregnant even when you’re coupled up isn’t a sure thing – it feels like investigating this as an option will help me sleep a little easier. And I sure do love my sleep.

This article was originally published on Jan 11, 2021.

Hannah is a content creator from Melbourne. She works in the beauty industry, and in her spare time hosts Single Minded, a dating podcast that’s flipping the script on being single. When she’s not creating beauty content, you’ll find her somewhere remote backpacking overseas – preferably with no WiFi to get a much-needed break from Instagram. Follow her addiction to serums and travel on Instagram here.