Finding Answers That Aren’t in Any Book

Research is an inherent part of all my decisions. My searches for information always start with a scan of my bookshelves. I tell friends I have an active library; there is not a single book that doesn’t live off the shelf at least a few times a year. And it’s not uncommon for me to wake in the middle of the night in sudden and epiphanic need of answers from those shelves. I’ve searched, in the moonlight, for answers to everything from remedies for my client’s leg cramping to why Epsom salts are soothing. And I’m so grateful for these books, which nearly always provide me with the information I need. This is especially helpful for my work, as I’m consistently haunted by my struggle to understand human anatomy. You see, I’m not particularly gifted in the art of remembering names. I’ll never forget a face or, in the case of anatomy, the shape of a bone or direction of flow of a muscle, but I forget the names of important body parts quite often. This might seem unimportant, but it’s pretty critical when you work in the wellness industry! I tried to counter this deficiency by taking Latin in junior high school with the hope that if I could remember the Latin meaning of a name I might also be able to remember the name itself. No such luck. With Latin being no help and the Internet out of the question in the middle of the night (I’d get sucked into its vortex in seconds and never get back to sleep), my books are the only way to soothe my frustrated mind; and thankfully, they do. My books provide me both answers and peace of mind. And these research habits have become such a common occurrence that when my beautiful Havanese pup Viva (otherwise known as Miss V) finds me on the floor surrounded by my books, she crawls up to the top of the highest stack, makes herself comfortable, and keeps me company. And, yes, I carefully explain all of my theories to Miss V.

But I’ve hit a glitch. The answer to my questions regarding egg freezing isn’t to be found in any books on my shelves. I have dozens of books that address fertility from Chinese, Ayurvedic, and Western medicine perspectives, but no one writes about (and really no one talks about) their eggs hovering on the verge of getting too old, or how to prepare yourself for egg extraction and freezing.
 
 My next stop is Google, gateway drug for my addiction to scientific studies, analyses, and opinions. Within seconds I have access to research and case studies spanning 20-plus years. My wandering eyes skip ahead to the graphs and charts that illustrate the drastic drop in fertility starting at age 30 and decreasing at alarming rates each year following; as well as the corresponding dramatic increase in birth defects. I take a deep breath. This isn’t new information, per se, people have been hinting at it for years. But still, I can’t help wish that those who hinted would have screamed and perhaps even waved their hands frantically until I listened. At the end of my first search, there is no question: my eggs are old, and, unless I intend to get pregnant today (literally), freezing my eggs is my only option. But strangely, this confirmation of my limited options only helps build my resolve. In fact, I only have one option: freeze the eggs. The only question is whether or not I want to have children. And, well, that isn’t a question for me. 
 
 I turn my focus to finding the right doctor. Typically, my search for a doctor includes consideration of their ability to help guide me in my continual exploration of the complementary relationship of Eastern and Western medicines. This time, however, I am solely interested in a Western medicine scientist; I can take care of the Eastern medicine practices around fertility. My gynecologist casually explained that all the fertility doctors who freeze eggs use the same procedures and techniques and have access to the same technology. She implied that all the doctors are the same. I don’t buy it. There are a handful of doctors out there who live and die by their craft, who are moved each day to keep advancing this science, and who want another “success story” notch on their belt. I am determined to find that doctor.
 
 So now I read some articles, watch a few videos, and write down name after name of every doctor mentioned in every study. I reason, I did this much research when I bought a new toaster last month; I’m sure as hell going to research the doctor who is going to freeze the beginning ingredients of my potential first child. One name keeps coming up in study after study, research paper after research paper. Looks like I’ve found my guy — my proverbial hiking boots — and so I call him.