IGOT very drunk with an old friend of mine and we somehow got on to the subject of parenthood. Hic!

Naturally, this chat quickly descended into a (probably rather loud) thesis on life expectation, aspirations and larger life goals until we ended up telling the rest of the people in the bar exactly how we each saw things working out for ourselves.

Now, this friend happens to be a male who is particularly career-focused. As long as I’ve known him he’s never really enthused about having kids but he just turned 30 and his tone has changed.

“I’ll have them, I’m sure, one day,” he said. “I’m thinking more and more that it must be a cool experience. But I don’t need to worry about it for a long time, do I?”

“No, you don’t,” I flatly responded.

Because of course, he doesn’t. I’m always faintly bitter about this topic – I’m incredibly envious of men and their ability to delay their personal procreation process until retirement age, if they see fit. Whenever this issue arises in the presence of certain male friends I usually end up hating them just a little bit by the end of it.

For me – someone not in the least bit broody – it seems the ultimate in inequality: men get all the time they wish to decide whether they actually want a family, while we women get a few great years and then BAM! It’s now or never!

But then this week I read an article which could be about to change this. Apparently, researchers recently discovered the existence of Egg Precursor cells in the outer cortex of female ovaries. There is increasing evidence to believe that these immature egg cells can mature into fresh, young eggs.

And some scientists are beginning to believe that these intact, immature egg cells can be found in a woman of any age. Hurrah!

There’s hope that at some point in the future (and let’s face it, I’m hoping that’s at some point in MY future) – these may be used to create babies in women who didn’t want to give up their thirties to motherhood.

So far this research is apparently working for mice. And lord knows the mice don’t need help procreating. I don’t think they’re working under quite the same pressures as us. And by us I mean me. Because really that’s what this comes down to: me wanting to have it all (whatever that might be) instead of hurtling towards some unknown mother ship, hoping its shields aren’t up by the time I reach it in order to break through and become the Earth Mother I’m clearly so destined to be.

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