When I turned 30 almost 4 years ago, I felt a new sense of relief. I felt joyful and excited about what this new decade might bring. It was much easier to let go of worrying what others might think of me. It’s one of the reasons I had a dinosaur themed birthday party on Portobello beach to celebrate turning 32, why I took myself to Rome a few days after and then Barcelona the following year. 

I can’t claim all my decisions have been borne solely from being a generally fun and fancy-free person. A lot of the choices I’ve made have come from a place of fear. Fear that I wasn’t doing enough to fill a life, however long or short it might be. 

Something else that occurred to me when I turned 30 was the idea that I’m continually moving towards the age my Mum was when she died. Two days after her 44^th birthday my wonderful mother was gone. 

Going through therapy and counselling sessions, plus a lot of inner emotional work, I’ve been able to understand how such a loss has formed the person I am today. It’s determined my behaviour in relationships, my impulsive actions (a mix of good, great, and not so good), my sense of empathy towards others and not to mention my strong urge to take care of any one of my friends who happens to be even a year younger than myself. I feel a maternal sense of wanting to care for people, make sure they’re alright, doing their best and feel valued. I’m making it sound like I’m a bloody saint. I promise I can be a right wee shite and an annoying dickhead too, which my friends can (and will) also confirm. 

Something else that began to change, particularly in the past two years, has been how I approach and feel about dating. I hadn’t actively tried to meet anyone for over a year and then after dipping my toe back into the world of apps, met someone and a few months later it unexpectedly fell to shit. Of course, I was upset, I was confused… I went through those questions & feelings of not being enough, being too much, wanting too much: all of it. This time though, something was different. I can almost hear the conversation I had with myself ‘OK this is going to feel like shit for a wee while but just like everything else, it will get better and you’re going to be absolutely fine’ and after a week or so of wallowing, ordering Deliveroo and watching female led action movies… I was ready to crack on. 

The thing that helps me be more pragmatic about relationships now is the length of time I’ve been single, self-sufficient and genuinely happy. I enjoy my own company wholeheartedly and I love that feeling of peace & contentment. I would take that over the anxiety of waiting on a text back and wondering whether the person you’re dating genuinely likes you or not, EVERY SINGLE TIME. Another important lesson: if the person you’re dating/seeing leaves you feeling confused, they probably don’t like you. When someone likes you, there’s rarely a question. 

Happy with my level of self-sufficiency but also aware of the fact I was getting further into my 30s, I decided to look into having my eggs frozen. This was around the time there was a lot of discussion around the topic and encouragement from celebrities, to consider having it done. 

I was single, a private renter with a flat mate and not in a stable enough position in my career to have a baby. I decided to take some action. I looked into a private clinic in Scotland that offers egg freezing. I learned the first step was to have fertility tests carried out. The tests alone cost £460. It involved a blood test called the AMH test. The level of AMH in a woman’s blood helps doctors estimate the number of follicles in her ovaries; the more follicles a woman has, the more eggs she can release, and the better her chances of pregnancy.

The other test was an internal exam: making sure the womb, cervix, ovaries and follicles were as they should be and taking note of any anomalies, for example if you have any cysts or an endometrium. It was all up on a big screen in front of me (although it was essentially some black circles, wavy lines and the like) as a lovely nurse talked me through everything. 

A week or so later I had a zoom meeting with a consultant who talked me through my results. Essentially, if I was to try to get pregnant, he couldn’t necessarily see me having a problem (other than being minus a man obviously). Next it was time to talk through the egg freezing process. 

• I would start taking pregnancy & pre-pregnancy vitamins for at least 2 months
• I would inject my stomach every day for a month with medication that would help to boost egg production and help the eggs mature. 
• Then the procedure to remove the eggs would happen (taking around 20 minutes)
• To collect an adequate number of eggs I was told I would need two cycles 

The cost of the procedure and medication would be around £7000. I would also need to pay for the storage of the eggs until I was ready to use them. 

In terms of how successful this would prove to be, I was told that each frozen egg has a 5% chance of becoming a baby: having to first survive the freezing process, fertilisation, developing into an embryo, successful implantation into the womb and then reaching full term.

I had a lot to think about. My head was swimming with information, and I thought about when I was a little girl deciding when I’d have each of my 3 imaginary future children, when I’d have each of them and possible names. When I was younger, in all my imaginings of creating a family, liquid nitrogen didn’t come into it. 

Truth be told, I had a cry and then I went to the gym. I was leaving for Barcelona in the following days for a solo trip and I decided that would give me an opportunity to mull things over. Each day of my trip, I explored and sat drinking & eating, watching people pass by. I loved it. I met people from so many corners of the globe and I out-partied more than a few 25 year olds (kids these days!?). I loved my life, the career I was building, the beautiful flat I share in Glasgow’s West End and the ability to take myself on adventures either at home or away. If I was to go ahead with freezing my eggs, much of that would change… it would be a financial strain that would put other things on hold like buying my first home. I wouldn’t be able to do a lot of the things I wanted to do because my money would be prioritised differently. I considered the point I was thinking about a hypothetical child, one I wasn’t 100% sure I wanted while also knowing there was every chance I’d meet someone, fall in love and have a baby without ever needing the frozen eggs. 

I quietly came to my decision when I returned home from Barcelona. Beyond the fertility tests, I didn’t go ahead with treatment. Had my results been poor and/or I was in a stronger position financially or the success rate was higher – my decision would probably have been different. Armed with the information I had though, I felt empowered and ready to move forward. 

However it’s not lost on me that I’m in a very privileged position to be able to pay for private fertility testing and consider this treatment as an option. I wish everyone had access to information about their own bodies. I wish I learned more about the menstrual cycle and didn’t learn so many vital things AFTER the age of 28. 

My decision to pursue egg freezing in the first place was somewhat driven by the fear I spoke about earlier, fear of not living my life to its fullest, a fear of living to regret. 

But oddly enough, just a few months before I turn 34 and with no frozen eggs in the tank, I don’t feel that specific fear anymore. I understand my level of fertility will change over the next few years and my previous results will become void but I’m happy I was able to make my decision based on having all the information I felt I needed. 

I’ve seen recently that while the number of women freezing their eggs continues to increase, a number of private clinics are being accused of misleading women on its success rates. I must admit, before I spoke to my consultant I thought there was a 15-20% success rate. 

I feel deeply for the women who have pinned so much hope on this process while not fully understanding the likelihood of it coming to fruition. I’ve learned how difficult and complicated the journey to having a baby can be, knowing so many who have struggled and continue to struggle. 

This is not meant as an anti-egg freezing post in the slightest. If you choose or have chosen to have your eggs frozen that is an entirely personal choice. I don’t know what the future holds, I might decide to go ahead at another point. 

I wanted to write this post because I want EVERYONE to feel empowered by information and hope that my sharing this incredibly personal part of my life, might help someone in some way.

I’ve since entered a new relationship and although he’s fully aware of my journey, he understands we’re on our own journey (without a timeframe) together. 

Decisions can be made for any number of reasons: loneliness, happiness, exhaustion… you name it. 

But do try to mitigate how much your decisions are governed by fear, particularly when it comes to your body…Seek expertise, research potential clinics, academic papers, look at NHS guidelines, speak to your GP. 

Banish the shadows of fear with the light of knowledge.