But somewhere along the way, I became aware of biological realities. Despite advances in fertility treatments, it’s tough to ignore the ticking clock. Gregory found that her research subjects were keenly aware of the timeline. I was, when I finally hit thirty. But the chance to live the life of a single, working person, to pay my own bills, to bask in my own professional accomplishments, and most importantly, to know I could support myself and live independently were tremendously important lessons for me. And now at age thirty-seven, with two-year-old twins, I think I am a better mother for it.
When I turned twenty-three, a year older than the age my mom had me, motherhood was the last thing on my mind. Fresh from graduate school, I was in hot pursuit of my first TV reporting job and had somehow patched together a bunch of freelance gigs to make my rent. I was living in New York City in a crowded apartment with four, sometimes five female roommates who all had lots of drama in their lives (or so it seemed at the time). I remember sipping wine on Sunday nights while we gabbed for hours about our work, our love lives, politics, not to mention our worried parents, anxious about us single gals living in the big city. It was heaven. Looking back, I wouldn’t trade that self-indulgent time in my life for anything. And I hope my daughter won’t either.
“If you are perfectly set up to have a family at thirty-two, then fine. But if you are not, why add the burden of all this anxiety?” asks Gregory. She hopes her research will empower other women to feel confident in their decisions to choose motherhood when it feels right.
