I’ll never forget the day I got the heartbreaking news.
I was sitting in my fertility doctor’s office, and he was giving me a reality check—a brutal one.
It was going to be next to impossible for me to become a mother on my own.
You’d think I would have seen it coming. But I was genuinely shocked to learn, at 40, that I might not be able to conceive.
He brought out a well-worn chart from the Centers for Disease Control. As a career woman, I was no stranger to numbers and data—but I had never seen these stats before.
The graph laid out the hard truth in unmistakable terms. My fertility wasn’t declining in a gentle arc. It was falling off a cliff. Fertility begins to drop around 30. By 35, it’s in a freefall. And by 40? The odds of conceiving and delivering a healthy baby without medical help were hovering around 10%.
I’ve included the chart here in hopes that someone else won’t be as blindsided as I was.
How could this be happening?
I had clung to the belief that I HAD TIME. I’d read stories in People and Cosmo about celebrities having babies in their 40s and 50s. I’d even heard of women giving birth in their 60s! Was it all a lie?
In hindsight, I see it clearly: I had been lulled into a false sense of security -a byproduct of post-feminist culture that told women we could build our careers first, and that science would step in when we were ready for babies.
Spoiler alert: It didn’t.
Infertility is one of the most painful medical conditions a woman can face. It’s devastating because it strikes at the very core of 
what society associates with womanhood—the ability to conceive, carry, and deliver a child.
How did I miss this? I’m an intelligent, educated woman. How could I have been so unprepared?
But the real challenge was just beginning.
Six years of fertility treatment followed. Six years of crushing disappointments. Six years of feeling like my body was betraying me.
I was lonely. I was silent. A punitive voice inside said I didn’t deserve to be a mother—I had waited too long and wasted my chance.
And then, just when hope was fading, my doctor asked me a question that changed everything:
“Have you considered using an egg donor?”
I hadn’t. It had never even crossed my mind.
But that suggestion turned out to be a lifeline. Using younger eggs meant I could turn back the clock—literally. With the help of an egg donor, I had the same chance of a healthy pregnancy as a 28-year-old woman.
And with that gift, I got my miracles—a daughter and then a son.
Afterward, I knew my mission wasn’t over. I founded Cheri’s Choice, a nonprofit helping women navigate their own unique paths to motherhood.
Egg donation is just one path. There are many. If the traditional fairy tale hasn’t worked out, you can write your own.
If you’re struggling to become a mother, know this: you’re not alone, and your story isn’t over.
With knowledge, courage, determination—and a village that loves you—nothing is impossible.
