I Got Frozen Eggs and Freedom for Christmas
“Lisa, it’s your turn!” My mom hands me my Christmas present, a flat envelope. “Here,” she says, “From your dad and me.”
I love receiving gifts in envelopes. It almost always means I’ll be getting an experience to redeem, or directly translatable monetary value over which I have some degree of spending control, or at the very least, a handwritten card (I love words), versus another candle, sweater, or bath salt.
I open up the envelope and take out a card that reads,
“Life is beautiful. Let’s keep it going. Love, Mom & Dad” and tucked neatly inside the card, “A blank check!” I exclaim, somewhat confused, thinking that this means my parents are… investing in my startup?
My brother’s eyes widen, “Are you serious, a blank check? What does that even mean?”
“For you to freeze your eggs!” My parents say proudly.
My brother giggles, and I roll my eyes. “Seriously?”
Over the past year, every time I’ve come home for dinner with my family, I always get the inevitable dreaded questions, “Do you have a boyfriend yet?” Followed by not so subtle comments like “It would be so nice to have a baby in the family,” or “All the good ones are getting snatched up,” or even more painfully, from my grandma, “I hope I get to go to your wedding, you don’t have to be so picky. You know, I don’t have too much time left…”
I’m the older child and the guilt can be, at times, too much to bear, but even then, I’ve managed to stay strong and stay true to myself - the difficulty, of which, cannot be overstated.
And of course, it’s not just my own family, it’s the omnipresent reminder in my newsfeeds, in my friends’ conversations, in the magazines - as every woman in my age bracket is either getting hitched, trying to convince a man to get hitched, bragging about getting hitched, scared of being single and complaining she’ll never get hitched, or popping out babies even though it’s clear that Chad is still a douchebag and Ashley is still insecure.
Don’t get me wrong, I love my friends who have gotten hitched and no one loves a good open bar at weddings more than me, but what I’m fighting against is the expectation that this is the right way for every woman. Because even in 2019, there is an underlying implication that the woman who does not choose the “right” path by the “right” time is inevitably “sad” “lonely” “single” “barren” “unwanted” “unlovable.” However, a man choosing to prioritize his career? Well he is simply doing that, prioritizing his career. *Good Boy*
A couple months ago, I called my mom crying - the type of sad, frustrated cry that can only be invoked by misplaced romantic woes. Through tears and sniffling, I said exasperatedly, “Every time I’m in a relationship, I’m less happy than when I’m single.”
And it was true, I knew this because upon reflecting on all my past relationships - even the good ones - I’ve always felt lighter, freer after the relationship ended. And the contrast would often be so strong, that I would look back bafflingly and wonder how I let myself get dragged so far down in the first place.
Some may say it’s because I didn’t find “the one” and that may be partially true (although even the concept of “the one” is highly questionable), but the bigger more troublesome part of it was who I became in those relationships.
I learned to make myself small, in order to make a man feel big.
I started to sacrifice my time, subtly giving a little bit here, and a little bit there to make him feel comfortable, taming my enthusiasm, talking less about my work, giving up my own needs, and it would create a dynamic in which I began to feel resentful, but still be afraid to break things off because its always better to be in a relationship… Right? Right!?
On the phone, between tears, I gave my mom an impassioned case to the contrary, building up the evidence to support my stance, bracing myself against the inevitable dreaded onslaught of critique against my singledom that I knew I would receive.
I listed off my exes (all of whom she had disliked), the low value behavior I had exhibited (she always told me I fell too hard too fast), and the way those relationships ended (bad communication, immaturity, and cowardice on his part).
She was silent for a moment, and I braced myself…
When my mom finally spoke she simply said, “I think you need to do what makes you happy,” she paused and then gave me the biggest blessing I never knew I needed.
“If you don’t find someone who makes you happy, then you don’t have to get married. The most important thing is to be happy.”
I was blown away.
To hear a parent openly, explicitly tell you to just focus on your own happiness after a lifetime of latent fear that you are somehow letting them down by being yourself is a liberation unlike any other.
Of course, she then told me that it was important to freeze my eggs “Because you may want to have kids,” informing me of how Lucy Liu apparently birthed a son from a frozen egg without a husband (Yay for inclusive Hollywood representation).
While I still have no desire to have kids any time in the immediate future, this suggestion I could tell, was coming from a place of preemptive motherly wisdom.
The most important thing was, I WAS FINALLY FREE.
Free to focus on my dreams, my goals, my timeline with the blessing of my parents.
Let me remind you, for a woman, this sort of freedom is still rare.
There’s a painfully poignant quote I saw the other day:
I found this to be ironically funny because of how true we all know this to be, how deeply well-intentioned parental love and expectation can drive fear into our hearts, manifested in those critical moments when we must decide whether or not to go after an impractical dream or walk down an untraditional path.
And so when my mother gave me her blessing, it wasn’t merely that I felt the fear of singledom slide off my body, it was the ecstatic feeling of pure liberation when I walked outside and felt that THE ENTIRE SKY PARTED AND I FINALLY SAW THE SUN FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE.
The fact that I was no longer beholden to a traditional female path and relationship timeline suddenly meant that the massive baggage of male validation was lifted.
I no longer cared if the guy to the left of me thought I was a bitch because I was direct.
I no longer cared if the guy to the right of me thought I was selfish because I was ambitious.
I no longer cared if the guy in front of me thought I was a slut because I wore the clothes that made me feel sexy.
And I most certainly no longer cared if the guy behind me was an insecure twat because I didn’t validate him the way he wanted me to.
I was my own person. I was whole without his permission, without his validation because there was no longer any part of my identity that hinged upon needing a man to put a ring on my finger.
My male advisor once imparted this wisdom to me,
“Men get married when they want. Women get married when they can.”
And I had been given the ultimate male freedom - one that so many men take for granted - the ability to prioritize myself and my career, and to get married when or if I want to, ON MY OWN TERMS.
So this Christmas, when my parents handed me the blank check to freeze my eggs, I realized that this was not the tired old veiled insistence for me to find a man and get married, it was the greatest gift I could have ever received.
It was a gift of acceptance.
It was a gift of freedom. The freedom to be fully and authentically me.
And that is the greatest gift you can give to anyone you love.