My name is Jess, and I’m from Copenhagen, Denmark.
For a long time, work was my main focus. It wasn’t because I had planned to delay having children or because I thought I had endless time. Life just didn’t unfold the way I expected it to.
Relationships came and went over the years. Some lasted a few months, some lasted longer, but none became the kind of partnership I imagined building a family around. Meanwhile, my career kept moving forward. I worked hard, took on more responsibility, and eventually moved into senior leadership roles. From the outside, things looked pretty good. I had a career I enjoyed, financial stability, great friends, and a life I had worked hard to build.
But as the years passed, I became increasingly aware that the one thing I wanted most wasn’t moving forward at all.
Like many women, I watched friends get married and start families. I was genuinely happy for them, but there were moments when I wondered if that chapter was ever going to happen for me. Every year I told myself there was still time and that I’d figure it out later. Eventually, I realized that “later” wasn’t really a plan.
A couple of years ago, I had to be honest with myself. I had spent a long time waiting for the right relationship, the right timing, and the right circumstances. I still hoped I would meet someone, but I also knew there were no guarantees. What I did know was that becoming a mother mattered deeply to me, and I didn’t want to look back one day wishing I had explored my options sooner.
That’s when I started seriously looking into becoming a mother on my own.
One of the hardest parts at the beginning was realizing I didn’t know anyone who had done it. Most evenings I found myself reading, listening to podcasts, and trying to understand what the process would actually look like.
For a while, I kept it to myself. Not because I was ashamed, but because I needed time to make peace with the decision before opening it up to everyone else.
When I eventually told my family and close friends, their reaction surprised me. I had built it up in my head for months, but everyone was incredibly supportive. One friend immediately started talking about babysitting duties. My sister had a hundred questions. My dad just smiled and said he was excited for me.
Driving home afterwards, I remember feeling lighter than I had in years. I wasn’t doing this alone in the way I had feared.
The first practical step was booking a consultation with a fertility specialist.
I thought it would be simple. A few tests, a plan, and a clear path forward. But that isn’t how it went.
After blood work, scans, and several appointments, I was told that my AMH levels were very low and my antral follicle count was also lower than expected. I had never even heard of either of those things before. In simple terms, they measure ovarian reserve—how many eggs you may have left.
It was difficult news to take in. During one of the appointments, my doctor explained that because of my ovarian reserve, donor eggs would likely give me the highest chance of success.
I understood his reasoning. I was already open to using donor sperm, so I wasn’t coming at this from a place of needing everything to be “biologically perfect.” But hearing it still landed heavily.
I remember sitting in my car afterwards for a long time before I could drive home. Not because I was against donor eggs, but because I was processing the idea that this might not go the way I had imagined.
In the end, I knew I wanted to try with my own eggs first.
Not because I thought it was the “better” choice, but because I knew myself. I didn’t want to look back later and wonder.
My doctor respected that, but was realistic. Because of my ovarian reserve, I would likely need several retrievals, and even then there were no guarantees. Since we planned to create embryos and have them genetically tested, we decided to focus first on collecting as many eggs as possible.
From there, everything became very practical and very intense very quickly.
There were injections, scans, blood tests, and retrievals. My life started to revolve around appointments and schedules. It wasn’t glamorous, and it wasn’t always easy to keep up with emotionally.
There were setbacks along the way, and more than a few moments when I wondered whether any of it would work. Anyone who has been through fertility treatment will probably understand that feeling.
After multiple retrievals, I reached a point where it made sense to move forward. That’s when I began the process of choosing a sperm donor.
That part surprised me more than anything. You’re reading profiles, trying to piece together information about someone you’ll never meet, and somehow making a decision that will become part of your child’s story. It’s emotional in a way that’s hard to explain until you experience it.
Once I chose a donor, we fertilized the eggs and created embryos. Those embryos were then sent for genetic testing.
Waiting for the results felt endless. After everything that had led up to that moment, I was suddenly aware of how much depended on those calls from the clinic.
Thankfully, we ended up with embryos that were suitable, and eventually one of them became the pregnancy I have today.
I won’t pretend the process was easy.
Making every decision on my own was empowering, but it could also feel lonely. Every injection, every appointment, every phone call, every financial decision, every setback—it was all on me.
There were days when I cried in the car after appointments, and days when I felt completely fine again a few hours later. Fertility treatment has a way of pulling you through both extremes.
But I kept going.
And somewhere along the way, something shifted. I stopped seeing myself as someone waiting for life to happen, and started seeing myself as someone actively building it.
Looking back, I think that’s what I’m most proud of—not just the outcome, but the way I showed up for it.
By the time I became pregnant, I wasn’t only relieved. I felt a deep sense of pride in what it had taken to get here.
Today, I’m 35 weeks pregnant with a little boy.
Sometimes I feel him kick and still have to remind myself that this is real. Other times I’ll catch a glimpse of the nursery and pause for a second, just taking it in.
After everything, I’m finally preparing to meet him.
If someone had told me years ago that this would be my path to motherhood, I don’t think I would have believed them. It looks nothing like the picture I once had in my head.
But I wouldn’t change it.
My son is coming into a life where he was wanted from the very beginning, and that feeling has been there long before the first scan or heartbeat.
Wishing you all the best on your own journey, Jess
@Jess thank you for sharing your story with us — your journey is a reminder that becoming a mother doesn’t always follow a straight path, and that courage can look like showing up again and again, even when things are uncertain.
