Chapter 1: The Question of Parenthood

The age-old question—should I have children or not? This dilemma occupies the minds of many women in their thirties, particularly those without kids. Here's a personal story about one bold step I took to find clarity.

“I feel this overwhelming need to have an answer, and I don’t,” I expressed during a therapy session at thirty-six. The persistent uncertainty looms over many women: should I become a parent?

“Why is that pressure so intense, and why now?” My therapist probably should have anticipated my tendency to spiral when faced with open-ended questions.

“I’m dating someone who is eager for kids, and I’m getting older. I feel like I need to make a decision if I want to stay with him. It’s like he’s waiting for my answer. Yes, I know I’m running out of time—my eggs won’t last forever. I’m aware there are alternative ways to become a parent, but I don’t want to be an older mom. Honestly, I already feel like I would be an older mom. So, I need to figure this out to either break up with him or marry him—or potentially leave him for someone else. Sometimes I question whether I even like him enough to have his kids.”

We agreed that I would create a pros and cons list for our next meeting, focusing solely on my perspective.

She stressed that this list should exclude any influence from my partner: “This is a monumental decision. It must come from your own desires, free from external pressures. Life changes; people die, get sick, or split up.”

I promised to draft my list as if I were single, but I found that challenging. Just five minutes in, I gave up and scheduled a different appointment.

During my visit to the fertility clinic, I felt like a reality star. Who but the rich and famous casually checks on their eggs?

I settled into the clinic, waiting for the ultrasound to assess my egg count. It may seem excessive, but I believed this would help me make a decision. Whatever the result, I figured my initial reaction would guide me—much simpler than any list I could create.

“Let’s take a look inside to see what we’re working with,” the doctor suggested, highlighting my excellent blood work. “This will give us a complete picture of your options.”

“Wow! Look at all of them!” she exclaimed, comparing my ovaries to cookies, with the follicles as chocolate chips. “Let’s check the other side, shall we?!”

Dr. K had a warm demeanor that was perfect for her role. Her enthusiasm was palpable, which is what most women in her stirrups long to hear. After all, few people casually check their egg count unless there’s a significant reason. I had gone in under the pretense of wanting to freeze my eggs—a potential option if my initial feelings prompted it.

“Sure,” I replied, trying to match her excitement, but honestly, I wasn’t seeing cookies or chocolate chips. I was just trying to connect with my emotions. I was there for a pivotal moment.

“Oh, this one looks even better! So many chocolate chips!” she continued.

“Mmhmm,” I thought, feeling nothing inside.

“You have the ovaries of a 24-year-old!”

This was Dr. K’s assessment based on my test results, and she was genuinely happy for me. I was, too—part of me was still youthful, but in terms of making a decision, I felt like I had more time. And for someone like me, who tends to procrastinate, that’s the last thing I needed.

I listened carefully as she explained the egg retrieval process and its considerable cost. Coming off a master’s degree and a year of unemployment (thanks to COVID), I contemplated how to discuss this with my parents, particularly my mother, who has a soft spot for grandchildren.

Then it hit me: retrieving the eggs was just half the process. Eventually, those eggs would need to be fertilized. And who would be the parent? That was a question I still hadn’t answered.

This brought me back to my pros and cons list, where the “cons” morphed into “pros” when considered with a partner, and vice versa when I imagined doing it alone.

“I couldn’t finish the list,” I admitted to my therapist.

“So, you’re still undecided,” she said matter-of-factly, as if I had ample time to ponder, which I didn’t.

“I don’t feel like I’m on the fence. Being on the fence suggests indecision. I feel like I could go either way. With certain partners, I can envision having kids. When I’m alone, I can imagine a fulfilling life without them. Sometimes, I wonder if this is just a defense mechanism because I believe I won’t have children. But then I think if I truly wanted kids, I’d figure it out on my own. And I don’t think I should have to make this choice alone. I’ve torn down the fence; I’m standing on both sides.”

“Would you like to know my thoughts?”

“Always.”

“I think you overthink things.”

Always.

So, my youthful, single self, with all the metaphorical chocolate chip cookies, has decided to take a break from overanalyzing.

Perhaps we can embrace two paths in life that could lead to fulfillment. Maybe I’ll find my partner, and we’ll decide together which direction to take. Or, in twenty years, when someone asks why I didn’t have kids, I’ll simply say I forgot.

Until next time, Whino’s … Stay true to yourself and honor your commitments.

From my heart to yours,

Xx Dani

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