On my 35th birthday, my mother gave me a card that read:
Dearest Justine, life is one choice after another. And choices change. So do decisions. If you decide that you want to keep baby options and motherhood open by freezing your eggs, I want you to be able to do that. The enclosed is for that purpose only, and not for anything else—not a car, a dog, a vacation.
It came with a check for $10,000, and in the memo field, she had written only: L’oeufs (the French word for “eggs”). Eighteen months later, that check is still sitting in a drawer in my apartment—and I have no intention of cashing it.