It started nearly two years ago when my (now ex) boyfriend behaved in that
way that men having a midlife crisis tend to. I thought he was the man with
whom I was going to have children. I am sure I am not the only career woman
in her mid-thirties (I’m 35) who, finding herself unexpectedly single, goes
around swearing under her breath that she really could do without that
effing clock ticking in the background when she’s trying to get through her
e-mails.
“I think we should freeze our eggs,” said my best friend Sarah, cupping a
lighter to the cigarette in her mouth. “Because after the age of 35 our eggs
are not just on the decline, they are on a vertical descent akin to dropping
down the north face of the Eiger.”
Sarah and I are the generation of choice. Easy come, easy go. Our twenties
had come easily and slipped away even more easily. It took the two of us a
few good years into our thirties to look up from our computer screens and
notice that most of our pals were getting hitched or pregnant. But Sarah and
I had taken our “choice” to the limit, ie, we hadn’t made any.
She lit the fag, slapped the lighter on the counter and threw a magazine at
me. I took in the highlighted article on oocyte freezing. It is true that
after the age of 35, the quality of women’s eggs — oocytes — decreases by
half every year. Before this age, although egg quality and stock decreases,
it does so slowly and steadily until the steep drop-off after the
mid-thirties.
I took this all on board. It seemed like a no-brainer. The article said it
was a relatively simple process and offered unlimited peace of mind. My
reasoning is not that I want a baby right now, or indeed that I am prepared
to have one at all costs (ie, alone). I am not. Not at all. Not nearly. My
expectation is that I will have a baby with a partner.
But I am terrified that finding “The (next) One” might take a good few years
. . . and, well, do the maths.
Sarah started to research the best clinics worldwide that offered the
service. I, being lazy, just rang the clinic advertised at the bottom of the
magazine article. I made an appointment and asked how much the whole thing
cost. Three grand, I was told. Not the kind of cash a struggling writer has
to hand.
So I went to my family. More importantly, my retired gynaecologist
grandfather. I yakked on about the family heritage, how difficult it was to
be a modern woman and in fact all I wanted in the end was a lickle baby. It
worked.
I informed my mother that I was freezing my eggs. “Oh, how wonderful,” she
busied at the end of the line. “What are you talking about?”
I explained that they give you hormones to make your eggs grow, then take
them out and then put them in the freezer until you want to use them.
“That’s marvellous, darling. Just for God’s sake, don’t put them next to the
ice cubes, will you? The last thing I want is to be popping my future
grandchildren into my gin and tonic.”
On the day of my “preliminary chat” at the Midland Fertility Services clinic,
I wandered in to the reception area, where I was confronted by thousands of
photographs of babies conceived there. I was a little shocked: I had
forgotten that this was predominantly a place that helped couples to get
pregnant and have babies.
I felt a little uncomfortable. All the other women were waiting
apprehensively to be told if they were going to be able to bear children. I
was fiddling with my BlackBerry and wondering how I was going to write two
scenes of my new play in my now severely curtailed day.
The doctor, Sameena, and the midwife, Sue, soon put me at my ease. Sameena
was a Muslim woman in a burka and Sue was a genial, squash-playing
Midlander. “So why do you want to freeze your eggs, petal?” they chorused.
“Well, er, because . . .” I suddenly froze. When faced with the easiest
question, it suddenly became unclear. Well, because: (insert at will) I’m a
failure/ I’m a selfish career-seeking bitch/ I’m depressed/ I’m lost, etc.
“Because I suppose I want insurance. I don’t want to get to 41 and not be
able to have a baby.”
Only as it came out of my mouth did I realise I was serious. A baby. I was
admitting that, at 41, I would try to have a baby.
They explained that the treatment took between two and four weeks, depending
on the results of some blood tests, which would de termine the kind of drugs
I was given. I asked about side-effects.
“Well, since what you are doing is receiving high doses of the hormones that
stimulate egg growth and ovulation you may find yourself a bit up and down,
as you are before a period, but since you know what this is caused by you
should be able to reason with yourself.”
I thought as a little aside that reasoning with a premenstrual woman is akin
to driving a round peg in to that proverbial square hole. Whatever, if this
was the worst of it, I could cope. “Is that all?” I asked, encouraged.
Most women tend to see a thickening round the middle.
“Come again?” “A bit of weight on, bloating, water retention . . .”
Stop. Right there. A woman can accept the risk of major organ failure and
death, but not — I repeat not — putting on weight.
I looked the midwife and doctor in the eyes. “How much weight?” This was a
make or break question.
“It varies, petal,” said Sue brightly. “But you’re a lovely slim lady and it
does tend to disappear after the treatment.”
Sue had said that I was lovely and slim. I would now, as a point of
principle, believe everything that she said to me.
I arranged to start treatment in the new year. Treatment starts on the third
day of your period because they need to inject the hormones at a specific
stage of egg growth. As I drove back to London, the words of Sameena whirled
in my mind. “You know the process is exactly the same as IVF,” she’d said.
“Except when we harvest the eggs we don’t put them back in.” I was going to
have flipping IVF.
Back in London I settled back into my chaotic life, but it was reassuring to
have my little plan in the background. A few times, at dinner, when the
conversation turned (as it inevitably did) to the struggle of being a modern
career woman and the impossibility of “having it all”, I would casually
mention en passant that I had the last one taped.
“Oh, I’m freezing my eggs,” I would say offhandedly, while making eyes at the
latest chap in my life. Women would immediately prick up their ears, as they
do when you confide that you’ve had Botox or share a new antiageing product
with them.
“Oh fab,” they’d say, “Could you e-mail me the phone number?” It was as easy
as pie, I said. As if I’d done the thing already.
Christmas passed. And then it was Sarah’s wedding, and there was no way I
was going to look fat in my Valentino gown (yes, her egg-freezing plans has
changed along with her circumstances, so I was going it alone). And then . .
.
It wasn’t until May that I realised what I was doing: in my head I had
already done the egg freezing; the reality was that I was too busy or too
scared. My period started. I gritted my teeth and made the call.
“It’s started,” I said nervously. “Oh good, please come to see us
immediately.”
The treatment entailed a daily injection of luteinising hormone (LH) to trick
the ovaries into creating loads of eggs that could then be “harvested” and
frozen. But as I suffer from polycystic ovaries, I already have an increased
level of LH in my blood. So they decided that I needed only the short
course; if I suffered problems they were likely to be from the growth of too
many — rather than too few — eggs. Some women have to receive the injections
for four weeks to get a decent crop. I would be on the two-week treatment,
which I was very pleased about (back in that bikini in no time).
The next morning the needle hovered over my flesh for a good five minutes (I
have an unhelpful phobia of needles). Then I thought of the cutest baby I
knew and stabbed away at my left leg. I felt proud. “Get me,” I thought.
Day 3 brought the first side-effect. “A bit premenstrual,” the nurse at the
clinic had said. This was more akin to Mel Gibson running down the hill into
battle in Braveheart . The sales assistant at Harvey Nichols was the first
to fall. “What do you f****** mean you won’t give me a refund, you moronic
idiot?”
The rage returned the next day. Stuck in traffic on the M5 I had what can
only be described as a tantrum. Mum called me and said: “Darling, if there
is anyone you want to murder you should probably do it now. We could
probably get you off on the grounds of hormonal imbalance.”
Day 4 of the injections meant my first ultrasound scan to see how my garden
was growing. The injections were having the effect of overstimulating my
ovaries, which were making follicles like Mrs Miggins from Blackadder making
cup cakes on speed. I was told that I had to be present every day for scans
to check my progress. They halved the dose of drugs.
At the end of the course, I had been told, the surgical procedure would be
carried out under local anaesthetic and sedatives. The day arrived.
I was relaxed as I undressed; this had been OK really and, most pleasingly,
apart from my breasts swelling to twice their normal size (never a bad
thing) I had not much bulging at all.
I felt the sedative go in and had five minutes of pain-free surgery on my
left ovary — until I heard someone screaming: me. The local had worn off.
The pain of the jabbing to recover the eggs was excruciating.
The doctor looked up at me. “There’s one more I can see, shall I go for it?”
“No way!”
I was doubled up for about an hour afterwards, wailing, while nurses patted me
and gave me paracetamol (which I thought was an insult). The “egg remover”
had made multiple incisions and after the anasthetic wore off they were on
fire. Finally it subsided; I was deathly white.
“Well they didn’t mention that in the flipping brochure,” I said, dressing
gingerly. Sameena came in beaming. “Well done, Zoe. We’ve recovered 30
eggs!” Thirty! I was so proud of my little kiddies! Sameena told me that
they now had to go to the lab to be analysed and the good ones would be
frozen. “Often, if we get even six good ones to freeze, that is a very good
harvest.”
I went home knackered and over-emotional. Unsure of what it was I was
supposed to be feeling. I had, with chemical help, grown some eggs. Was that
a big deal? I couldn’t work it out. A week later I was in the high street
when the call from the lab came through.
“Zoe,” said the voice. “I have your results. Well done: we’ve managed to
freeze 19 eggs of very good quality.” I was elated. Nineteen mini mes. I
might not even bother to turn them into screaming brats. I might just bring
them out at dinner parties with the after-dinner mints. So people can admire
my beautiful, well-behaved eggs.
I was a real woman with real eggs and if things didn’t work out the
conventional way, whatever the future held, I now had a very real chance of
a baby.
Who knows, I might even give a few away to people who need them . . .
although the thought of meeting my child on the high street is still a
little too weird even for me to contemplate.
Doing My Bit, by Zoe Lewis, is being performed at the Edinburgh Fringe
until August 27 (not Sundays). Tickets: 0131 2260000 — www.edfringe.com
Great story....at the age of 39 I have just decided i'd like to try and get some of my deflated aggs frozen - as I'm new into a business venture and single, oopsy! Which clinic was used as I'm in the South West and totally unsure of how to find the right clinic? Any help much appreciated..
Thanks A x
Annabel, Plymouth, England
Having gone through two unsuccessful IVF attempts, but thoroughly enjoying my now 11 month year old naturally at 41 years of age - I wish I had had the foresight to have done this at your age. Although with hindsight I would have also had my daughter earlier just so I had the energy of a 35 year old - that is one thing you won't be able to harvest!
Lyn, Bath, Avon
To Charles Linskill/Edinburgh. Motherhood between 18-30? Has no one told you that the menopause signals the demise of fertility...and that many women fall pregnant quite naturally in their 40's and go on to lead happy and healthy lives with their children - it is said that an older mother has more patience and less panic - and from what I have seen in life this is so true. Get a grip - this article is written with great humour and is also getting behind the psyche of today's women. In the "good old days" you met your partner in your teens/early 20's - but now with modern life not many have that luxury. Men can father a child in their 90's and that seems to be accepted happily but a women over 30, now, she's just being selfish?!? Should we castrate men at 30? What do you think Charles? And to Sarah, London - well done to mention that freezing embyos isn't a guarantee. Very few survive to implantation - it is a risky process, and traumatic for the recipient. Great article Zoe
Dawn, Tyne & Wear,
No Claire - no reason why you should abstain. Women with a consistent desire to have children deserve to have them, man or no man. Not much can better being truly wanted by a loving (if poor and single) mother. But women who pick up on the idea because they're bored with their lives/fed up with working/are intimidated by peer pressure/or just simply lost in one way or another are stamping on sacred territory in steel capped boots if they think that having a baby (even by adoption) will suddenly give their lives the direction it's been lacking. This also applies to those who freeze their eggs just in case they become bored with their lives/fed up with work/intimidated by peer pressure or simply lost in some way.
Women know from a young age whether or not they have the innate qualities to be a mother. If you've always wanted children - I mean really wanted them,and you can't have them for whatever unlikely reason until you're 40, then fine.
Frida, London,
There seems to be a lot of smug and self-righteous people out there - many of whom, I guess, were lucky enough to find their life partner at 20 and have dozens of children without any effort or heartache. At least that's how it sounds. What a great article - and one that has got people talking - and thinking - about the implications of late motherhood. No one has the right to tell another person what to do - and if this procedure had been available when I was in my early 30's I would have done it too. It's not about being selfish, it;s about being realistic. As it is I'm 40+ and about to embark on IVF to have a child after many years of trying so no doubt all of you out there will say I am selfish to want a child now. Well, I've always wanted a child, and as a well-adjusted woman I can try to do what I couldn't in my 30's - have a child, and bring it up with more love than you can imagine. So get off your high-horses and think of the bigger picture.
AB, Sunderland, UK
Why is it that when a woman makes a decision regarding her future than all these know all/know nothings come jumping out of the woodwork telling her how wrong she is?! I think that it is a great move, Being someone who has hit 40, not met Mr. Right and not managed to get pregnant (and God how I regret it) I applaud you. As for the comments that you are too old at 40 to even consider having a child - how sanctimonious can you get! Is it better to be a grossly overweight mother at 25 who hasn't the energy to run around after her little one (but as long as you have a man it's alright - even if he is a no good slob!) , or a 40 something fit and single mother with the time and patience and love to give a child. Good luck to ALL of the prospective older mothers out there - I had one and I've had a great upbringing. Having a baby in your 40's isn't new - it's just more talked about - and oddly less accepted! And M Grey - sorry - but you sound very bitter about your lot.
DF, Durham, UK
Frida/charles, surely alot of this comes down to your environment and situation? I have not thought about having children due to not having met anyone that I wanted to breed with, not to mention not having the money or maturity to deal with bringing another human being into this world. It is a huge undertaking, and not something that should be entered into lightly. Does this therefore mean I should just abstain? I'm only 28 but anyone would think that I should have a brood by now.
Claire, Mel, Aus
I think the reason so many women seem unwilling to contemplate having kids until their best childcaring years are behind them is the way motherhood is portrayed in this country, and the British obsession with acting like a kid until you're middle aged. Kids are seen as troublesome, exhausting, a bit uncool, something to be left until you're at least 40 and too old to care anymore. I had my first kid at 29 and went on to have two more, at 31 and 36. In many ways I wish I'd started younger as, yes, it is tiring. But my family is the thing I am proudest of in the world. Yes kids are hard work but they are fun and rewarding too and it's a shame more women (and men) don't realise this until it's too late. Having children is what life is all about. Who wants to slave away at their desk for 45 years and have nothing to show for it at the end and no-one to remind you of what it's like to be young and carefree? Oh and by the way I have a rewarding and fun job too - you can have both.
Lindsay Wright, london,
Thank you for sharing your story - I was married at the age of 27 and widowed at the age of 27, and was hoping to have a family - I have since re-married but at the age of 35 my husband is adamant he does not want a family, so I may consider this as an option as a B plan, as I have experienced we never know our futures............so thank you for being brave enough to disclose this information
Shannon, wilthshire,
What about the little "mini-mes" that they throw away in 10 years time because they've fertilised more eggs than they need for your IVF? We modern women seem to have developed a strange 'double-think' when it comes to having children; it seems that all other moral imperatives can be sacrificed on the altar of maternal instinct.
And yes, I do have a child and am trying for a second. I'm also a 30 year old woman with a PhD and a good career.
Heather, Stockport, UK
I don't think that greed has necessarily got anything to do with it, but if, for whatever reason, you haven't wanted children for nearly half of your adult life, you probably shouldn't bother. Use the midlife crises for pursuing stuff that you can easily abandon or lose interest in if you want.
Frida, London,
Why is it that women are meant to have babies to fulfil their "mothering caring" instincts. I think you will find that there is a biological imperative at work to pass on your DNA to the next generation and anyone who thinks otherwise is an over sentimental moron. If clever women don't have children you can justabout kiss the human race goodbye, so cut career women some slack!!
Dr A, London, UK
I think the hormones are kicking in already... It is actually quite easy to put a round peg in a square hole, bit more difficut the other way round...
John, Caterham,
Germ, I think that's the whole point - she knows she's not ready for children so she's providing herself with options for the future. I think it's a brilliant idea - wish I'd done it in my twenties.
Carolyn, Oxford,
Point is most Woman should know that Baby-time is between 18-30 if you don't one in this age group, you weren't born to be a Mother as greed got the better of you!
On the other hand if its medical problem or just never met your match, thats a different story!
Charles Linskaill, Edinburgh, UK
What we failed to realise is not just about freezing the eggs and becoming pregnant. Being a mother of 2 boys now men, l can assure you that motherhood is meant for the young (latest 30ish) because you need STAMINA to look after babies, run after toddlers and children. So it is not just a matter of having babies, you have to raise them for at least another 17 years!!! Women are even getting defensive about the subject of breastfeeding and no doubt they want a c-section as well. They want everthing, from their independance, career, freedom, children (at their own time), bottle feeding because they want other people to be involved in that as well and the list goes on and on. lt is the 'I WANT FACTOR' From the time they are able to utter a word, it starts with 'I WANT' and it continues on till adulthood. A warning- being a mother is a selfless act so if you are not prepared to make sacrifices, DONT HAVE CHILDREN. Once you are a parent, it is a lifelong. You cant divorce them.
Virginia, Brisbane, Australia
Do you really want to raising kids starting in your 40s? Far more work and responsibility than you can imagine. Besides, very unlikely you'll find a husband who'll stay the course.
Mark Klein, M.D., Oakland, California
Excellent idea - what a brave decision to make.
Germ - can I assume you are writing from experience?
Well... if that's the attitude that having kids gives you, then maybe you should question your own choice before judging Zoe?
Emma, Southampton,
It's great to see someone emphasize the planning part of family planning. More power to you.
Joseph, NYC, USA
What puzzles me is that she writes she found it difficult to come up with three grand as a s "struggling writer" yet does somehow manage to find the funds for a Valentino gown and a shopping spree at Harvey Nichols.
Sophie, Ennis, Ireland
Germ, did you read her article in which she stated that she wasn't ready?? For someone who implies that they are more mature, surely you would remember the old adage, "If you don't have something nice to say, then don't say it."
Zoe, cheers on this article. A friend and I are in the same boat (almost - I am 32) and we are not ready to settle down, but we do hear the bio clock ticking. This is an interesting idea and your article on it was funny and informative. Thanks again!
Michca, Huntington Beach, CA, USA
Germ, whereabouts is she saying she's going to raise a child right now? surely she's taking the mature option because her current circumstances arent right for raising a child, and waiting til later. Germ, i don't know how old you are, but you sound about 90. lose a bit of the bitterness.....
Ben, London,
Germ - you sound pretty bitter about having children - you could put anyone off! Zoe is doing the right thing - keeping her options open but also being cautious about whether she really wants them - and all the sacrifice they entail. That sounds very mature to me. it's the 'little girls' who just blindly follow society's expecations and give up their independence and the best years of their life to have children.
Helen, Berks, UK
This article does not mention once how few frozen eggs have eventually resulted in babies. Whilst the technology for freezing embryos (combined egg and sperm) is fairly successful in terms of eventually producing a child, the success rate for births from eggs which were frozen alone is tiny to the degree that babies resulting from this technology make the medical journals.
Sarah, London,
loved this! great humour, right on the ball
T, Glasgow,
"Commitment, drudgery, sleep deprivation, loss of figure etc " ... aw c'mon its not that bad, thats just prim scaremongering (and that would make me stay childless - oops too late for me). Good for you Zoe, I hope you never need the eggs as baby making the old fashioned way sure as hell is more fun than IVF. But if you need them, they're there and you may thank your lucky stars you took a pragmatic view early on - not the actions of a "little girl" at all
Camilla, surrey,
Zoe Lewis,
Congratulations! One never knows how life will twist and turn, so it's smart to plan ahead. By doing this, you have opened up options for yourself in the future that you might not have had otherwise. It is, also, a very noble thing to consider donating some of your eggs to women who are infertile and cannot have children without the help of someone like you. They will be quietly blessing you in their thoughts and prayers forever.
RCS
RCS, Oakton, VA, USA
Thanks for writing this. It's something I'm considering, just in case Mr Right doesn't hop my way imminently.
Ellen, Bradford,
i love the write up. its soo witty. where would i be able to read any of your other articles?
Obi, Lagos, Nigeria
it's THAT important to have a kid? If you really care about children and want to be a mum, there are lots of abandoned ones you could puor down your maternal instincts.
This thing about 'clock ticking' and 'I must be a mummy', it's pure peer pressure.
Alex Guerriero, Oxford, England
She sounds like a modern women, not a child, its not easy to have a successful career, commitment, drudgery, sleep deprivation are all part and parcel so to on top of that find the right person and get married all before 35 in the traditional way takes above all hard work and luck, so a securing a back up plan is fantastic.
Well done!
Eleanor Fleetham , Winchester,
"A woman can accept the risk of major organ failure and death, but not — I repeat not — putting on weight."
Quite right too. Female priorities will always be different from males ones and when it comes to the mating game you have to be in it to win it - and that means keeping the weight down.
Why should women be ashamed of this sensible practical approach in the 21st century?
Davs, Surbiton,
Um... Germ... it also takes a sense of humour.
kate, london,
I'm sorry honey, but it actually takes a great deal of focus to raise a child. Commitment, drudgery, sleep deprivation, loss of figure etc that goes on for years and years and years. You just don't have what it takes. You are 35 and still sound like a little girl. Grow up.
Germ, Melbourne, Australia
You go Girl! Good for you Zoe!
Ray Meenan, Tokyo, Japan
Whatever happened to romance and the risk we take in life. The attitude of a modern woman is I.. I.... I... NEED IT ALL. Is this what life is about?
Yes, I AM older, I don't have children,I got over it. There are other things that can fulfil you in life.
Nobody has the right to a perfect life. I am glad I am older and that I haven't been brainwashed into modern day thinking.
M Grey, Newcastle,