The Best Investment I ever made

What I believed about myself at 34—and how one decision changed it all

I still have 18 eggs frozen in a clinic in Chicago.

Every year I pay a storage bill for them. Every year I wonder if this will be the year my husband and I decide what to do with them.

Maybe we’ll use them. Maybe we won’t.

What I do know is this: I’ll never regret freezing them.

Looking back, freezing my eggs wasn’t really about fertility.

It was about possibility.

It was one of the most self-focused decisions I’ve ever made.

I froze my eggs because I wanted the chance to become a mom someday.

I had been living in Chicago for eight years and by then, Chicago felt like home. I had a wonderful group of friends, a career that I hoped was making a difference in the lives of my students, and a two-bedroom condo I'd created entirely on my own. I had resigned myself to being the cool aunt or the loving teacher, and maybe that would be enough.

Then the world stopped.

Like it did for everyone else, the pandemic changed everything.

I was suddenly teaching kindergarten over Zoom to students with special education needs from my guest bedroom, now part classroom, part home gym.

I was 34, single, living in Chicago, and suddenly alone.

Happy hours disappeared.

Workout classes disappeared.

Nights out with girlfriends disappeared.

Everyone I knew seemed to be quarantining with a partner, heading to their parents’ house in the suburbs, or embracing the quiet.

I wasn’t.

It was June 2020. Dates were few and far between, and social distancing wasn’t exactly helping people make meaningful connections.

I didn’t want my age to be the reason I never became a mom.

So, alone in my two-bedroom condo, I decided to freeze my eggs.

With so much uncertainty in the world, I wanted to invest in the one thing I could: my future.

I wanted motherhood so badly that I chose to bet on myself before I had anyone else to bet on.

Freezing my eggs wasn’t terrible.

But it was lonely.

Every night I'd prop my phone against the backsplash in my kitchen and call my mom before giving myself another injection. She couldn't help from hundreds of miles away, but somehow having her watch made me feel a little less alone.

Walking into appointments alone.

Driving home wondering if any of it would matter.

Paying the bill and wondering if I’d ever need what I was paying for.

I wondered if freezing my eggs meant I had somehow failed.

Failed to meet someone.

Failed to settle down.

Failed to start my life.

All the while, I was busy living one.

It felt strange to be making one of the biggest investments of my life while quietly wondering if it was evidence that I had somehow fallen behind.

Friends were getting married.

Having babies.

I was learning how to mix medications and schedule ultrasounds around Zoom kindergarten.

I didn’t tell many people.

Not because I was ashamed of freezing my eggs.

I was ashamed of what I thought freezing my eggs said about me.

Somewhere along the way I’d convinced myself it was proof I’d missed my chance.

That everyone else had figured life out while I was still trying to catch up.

I worried freezing my eggs was admitting something I’d spent years trying not to believe:

That maybe I wasn’t meant to have it all.

It was my mom who came to help me recover after the egg retrieval.

Not a friend.

Not a boyfriend.

My mom.

Because of COVID restrictions, she could only drop me off at the hospital entrance and wait in the car while I went inside alone.

I remember sitting in a hospital gown in a triage bay wondering if this was the biggest waste of money I’d ever spent—or the best investment I’d ever make.

When it was over, she was still there waiting for me.

Six weeks later, I went on my second first date with the man who would become my husband (more on that story another time).

Looking back, I think freezing my eggs allowed me to date differently.

It gave me permission to stop living as though every date, every birthday, and every passing month was a countdown. For the first time in years, my future didn’t feel like it was slipping away from me.

I wasn’t looking for someone to rescue my timeline anymore.

I was looking for the right person.

I still have 18 eggs frozen in Chicago.

Maybe they’ll help complete our family.

Maybe they’ll help someone else’s.

Maybe they’ll contribute to science.

I honestly don’t know.

What I do know is that I’ll never regret investing in myself and giving myself the chance to build the family I’d always hoped for.

Looking back, I realize freezing my eggs wasn’t only about preserving the possibility of motherhood.

It was about refusing to let timing make one of the biggest decisions of my life.

Those 18 eggs represent a version of myself I’ll always be grateful for.

The woman who made that decision didn’t know what came next.

She wasn’t confident because everything was falling into place.

She was confident enough to believe her future deserved protecting anyway.

She couldn’t have known she’d meet the man she’d marry six weeks later.

She couldn’t have known there would be two babies, a move back to Ohio, or a 105-year-old house constantly in need of another project.

She only knew one thing.

She wanted the chance to build the life she’d always imagined.

So she gave herself one.