There seems to be a lot of talk about eggs, fertility and age going on in this neck of the woods lately.
Not only have I heard lately from my brothers lovely girlfriend that our fertility is declining and that it only costs about $800 bucks to get a sperm donor (no idea how accurate that is, nor do I want to know) but one of my favorite TV shows, New Girl, that usually makes me laugh heartedly was a depressing episode today about how the number of our eggs could be so low after 30 years old that we should get that checked out in case we’re running out of time to conceive.
Here’s my dilemma…
I’m 33 years old, single and not even close to wanting a baby yet. I’d love to have a perfect little family…me, husband and a bun in the oven but I can’t force that nor would I want to.
On the other hand, I’d absolutely die of excitement if I could get a puppy. I have a list of puppies I’d like to get:
- A Newfie (the biggest fluffiest one I can possibly find)
- A Burmese Mountain Dog
- A St. Bernard
- A Teacup Pomeranian
- A Teacup Maltese
- A White Pyranese
There’s probably one or two that I’m not thinking of off the top of my head.
I should also probably mention that I am scared to death of giving birth.
Actually, scared to death of the entire pregnancy.
I can’t help but feel that it’s almost alien like to grow another human inside of me. I just can’t wrap my head around it. Weird?
Well, what if it rips? My goodness, I know that’s happened. Ouch. While talking with a pregnant woman last week we were both a little bewildered by the fact that as a woman she was growing a human in her body with a penis. A part she doesn’t even have. There’s a†penis†growing in her.
Ok, just having those thoughts alone may be an obvious reason why I’m not ready to conceive.
So what do I do? It’s a possibility that I’ll run out of eggs before I am in that place in life. I suppose it doesn’t help that I am dating almost ten years my junior. (That doesn’t make me a cougar, right?)
Here’s a nifty little reminder chart I found. A nice visual of the problem I, and possibly †many others, face.
This totally reminds me of a graph my brother drew of my brain capacity. It’s quite humorous, maybe I’ll post that next. Stay tuned for that.
Back on track, I think it’s safe to say I’ll be 35 or over by the time I’m on the baby wagon.
Getting pregnant†in the first place is probably the biggest obstacle you’ll face. For 94 per cent of women aged 35 and over, who are having†regular sex, it takes over three years of trying. So you may need to be patient.
I’ve had too many reminders lately and I’m letting it all out to you.
Of course there’s always the possibility that after 35 I could get pregnant easily and have a beautiful, healthy baby.
I’m no fortune-teller, these are just some thoughts that have been pounded into my mind. (Thank you brother’s girlfriend)
I’m not even certain it’s the eggs that even bothers me but rather the fact that I’m SINGLE with no loving husband potentials in sight. What up with that?
And as for the TV show, New Girl, let’s have some laughter next week, shall we.