Eggs on ice

You may have heard about the Egg Crisis of New York. But don’t worry about me – there’s no shortage of eggs in the Chang household because she has them frozen on ice!

*Image courtesy of ChatGPT and how I think my eggs look like while happily chilling on ice.*

I froze my eggs back in 2022. It was something I’d heard about and vaguely considered but didn’t seriously pursue it until after I ended a long-term relationship. I’d realized I was choosing to stay in (more like failing to leave) a bad relationship because at the time, I really wanted kids and was worried about my ticking biological clock. Then once I became single, I notice that I was filtering men on dating apps with the lens of “will this man be a good father of my child?”, which is a lot of pressure to put on someone – and myself! — when swiping left and right for a mere first date! And how do you even determine if someone is dad (and daddy, lol) material just by what’s on their profile? That is the way to madness.

It was my therapist who first brought up the idea to freeze my eggs to take some self-imposed pressure off of myself. Since I knew I wanted children at some point, why not proactively freeze my eggs so I didn’t choose, or remain in, a lackluster relationship just because I was worried about running out of time?

The process was intense, but in ways I didn’t expect. Because it was still COVID times (it was still the WFH era), the hospital’s policy was to test for COVID at the beginning of the process and right before egg retrieval, and if I tested positive then my entire cycle would be cancelled, and thousands of dollars — let alone the time, energy, and mental fortitude — would be wasted. So I self-quarantined to protect my investment, and it was a lonely process.

*Morning walk to the clinic for daily bloodwork.*

My emotions were all over the place, especially towards the end of the process when I was jacked up on hormones, and yet I couldn’t partake in the most natural and intuitive human comforts: physical touch and personal connection. I’d go on walks outside (the only approved physical exercise) for fresh air and sanity, but then be entirely alone inside for the rest of the day. I hate needles and can’t even look at one when getting a shot — sometimes I even need to lie down when getting my blood drawn — and yet I had to inject (more like stab) myself with needs to flush my body with the right hormones and medications to stimulate the egg creation process. Injection time, somewhat affectionately called “Stabby Stabby Time”, was on FaceTime with friends, where they’d watch and offer words of encouragement where I tried not to panic or cry while going through multiple attempts of trying to push a needle into my skin, making the process a little less lonely.

*Scarring from the multiple day's worth of injections.*

*Stabby Stabby Time with FaceTime support.*

It was fascinating to observe and feel my body change throughout the process and wonder at the miracle the human body — the female body is a goddamn miracle. I had a greater appreciation for what my body was capable of and gained more respect for the life and potential that it held inside. And throughout the process, watching my body take on a bit more curvature, feeling my emotions waver up and down with the influx of hormones, I became a little bit more accepting and appreciative of what it means to reside in a physical body: who fucking cares if my stomach is rounder than my chest or if my hips are lack the hourglass curve — my body is capable of growing the potential of human life and that is a goddamn miracle.

I saw egg freezing as an investment in not just my future, but also my present — it gave and continues to gifts me freedom, flexibility, and time, things that I value more than money. My company didn’t offer egg freezing benefits (more on that later) and the process wasn’t covered by insurance, so I paid out of pocket, but my parents ended up surprising me with a generous cash gift to support me in this process. While my original intention was to cover the cost myself (I’d set aside savings for this specific purpose) it was enormously helpful to have additional financial support from my family. Egg freezing isn’t cheap, and where you do it affects the cost: I did mine in New York with Weill Cornell (highly recommend) and the total was about $10K, not including annual storage fees ($1.2K/year). This was even after researching various pharmacies to see how I could get medications for the cheapest cost and working with my insurance company to understand the system and play the game to get as many visits and tests covered.

There was a lot of time and energy spent on researching: learning more about the process and the effect on the female body (not much out there), grasping the many layers of cost wrapped into the end-to-end procedure (drugs + bloodwork + doctor’s visits + supplies + hospital fees), understanding the complicated nuances of insurance coverage (hint: it involves a lot of time on the phone), and reaching out to girlfriends and contacts to hear their own personal experiences (women are powerful, badass human beings). But it’s something that I’m so glad I did, and I’m so incredibly grateful to my younger self for making this investment. Because it turns out that if I want to have children and not pass on my genetic mutation for rare disease, then I’ll need to do IVF. Funny how things work out, isn’t it?

*In Belize during my egg freezing-moon, in lieu of a baby-moon, because hell yeah this deserves to be celebrated!*

Some of my key takeaways:

There is still so much research and investment to be done in women’s health, and not just in this specific space. I experienced a form of postpartum depression after the egg retrieval (hello mass exodus of hormones) and only found out that it was normal once I scoured internet forums (thank you, Reddit) and read about others’ experiences. Because egg freezing is still relatively new, not much research has gone into the impact on women’s bodies because well, our bodies still aren’t being prioritized in the realm of human health.
Elective egg freezing — and sperm freezing — are important fertility benefits for companies to consider as part of their insurance coverage. Proactive egg freezing enables all employees, regardless of gender identity, to be effective employees with choice and flexibility to manage their personal and family life. Additionally this benefit empowers women by giving them more agency over their fertility, family planning, and careers. For companies, expanding fertility benefits to cover egg freezing enables them to to be more inclusive and competitive, attract more talent and retain existing talent. This is something I’m incredibly passionate about, and a couple of women and I led this effort at my previous company, successfully advocating for expanded coverage for elective egg freezing. It is one of the things that I am most proud of in my career.
Women are fucking awesome. Not just our bodies and what they can accomplish, but our ability to forge community and connection and the power of sharing our experiences with each other. It’s thanks to so many women — friends, strangers, and colleagues — that I was able to learn so much about and be supported throughout this experience. A friend connected me with her friend who shared her journey and connected me to a ginormous Google Drive of documents filled to the brim of women’s personal stories and experiences of egg freezing and IVF. There is such power and beauty of women sharing their experiences with each other, out of love and support and a desire to see each other thrive. And, there is so much power in learning through others’ experiences, especially when there’s still more research and scientific investment to be done.

And to that last point, that’s a huge reason why I’ve written this post. I care deeply about women having agency over their own bodies and am more than willing to share my story with others because shared knowledge is an incredible powerful resource and tool. My hope is that by sharing my story and connecting women with other women, I can offer up options that may not have been considered before and empower women with the knowledge to make decisions that are best for them, their bodies, and their goals.

Many thanks to all the women before me and with me. You inspire me with your courage and generosity, and I hope to pass forward and share your love with those after me.

*Popping open champagne to celebrate the journey with those who supported me.*

If you’re wondering what prompted this, well it was my socks.

I attended (several) free Pilates classes, thanks to ClassPass’s two week free trial, and oddly enough here in Sydney all of the Pilates classes, whether they be mat or reformer, require you to wear grippy socks! I wonder if that much has changed in the years since I taught Pilates or if it’s a way for studios to be “clean(er)” since people’s feet aren’t touching the equipment, as the only studios in. New York that required grippy socks were barre classes. My personal opinion is that bare feet is better, for grip and foot health purposes, but that is a whole other tangent.

There was no way I was spending money to buy a piece of clothing I’d only use a couple of times (and also maybe just a way to try to make you spend money 🤔) when I suddenly remembered that I had brought grippy socks with me from the US!

These are the socks that Weill Cornell gave me during the egg retrieval procedure when I had to dress up in scrubs for the operation. I saved the socks (who would re-use a hospital dressing gown) to commemorate the occasion — although now that I think of it, I’m not sure if these socks are from egg freezing or from my cardiac MRI. Boop.

Peek-a-Choux

La Perouse