Last week, I caught up with a girlfriend to celebrate her big news: She won a spot in a prestigious teaching program, which means she's making the leap from magazines to education. She was glowing with excitement, and I am absolutely thrilled for her! I can't think of anyone who would be more perfect at molding little minds. While jabbering over our cappuccinos and cake, the conversation turned to mapping out our futures. Like her, I want to pursue a second career (eventually) and see more of the world—which leaves little time for my biological clock. Unfortunately, one of my occupational hazards is that I've written my fair share of fertility stories and know plenty of statistics. So even if I try to spin it in my minds-eye ("but I'm fit, healthy, and don't smoke!"), the cold, hard truth is that women lose 90 percent of their eggs by 30—and by 35, any pregnancy is considered high-risk. It sucks. I've always imagined myself as a mom, but recently I've had to come to terms with the fact that there's the very real possibility that it may never happen. Or, if it does, that means sacrificing another dream, or at least postponing it for a good two decades. I know life isn't black and white, but it is comprised of a string of choices. I just have to have faith in myself that I'm making the right ones.
Photo: Cutest buddy spotted at a wedding. I was totally the creepy lady oogling at him all night. :)
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