My Inspiration for Ōla- Part I
Me in 2022 while working remotely in Costa Rica
In 2019, I attended a wellness event in Brooklyn, and that is where my story began.
t was filled with everything I loved: vendors offering everything from natural deodorants and essential oils to minimally processed ice cream. We spent the day immersed in the experience—a cryo facial, a reiki session, and a yoga class. While waiting for a therapeutic writing workshop to begin, we wandered through the outdoor stalls.
There, I found a company offering complimentary testing for egg freezing. I was in my early thirties and never had I even spoken on fertility, let alone egg freezing. My friend was hesitant, but after learning a bit more from the representative, coupled with always being curious on how fertile I was, (also saving $250 or so) I decided absolutely, I’ll do it!
A few days later, an email arrived prompting me to view my results. My AMH level was 0.63. I had no idea what that number signified until I read the notes: “An AMH level of less than 1 warrants a full discussion about your fertility and options.” I remember the fog of confusion, though I knew instinctively it wasn't good news. I immediately called and scheduled a physical evaluation at their Midtown office.
The medical team explained they would perform an antral follicle count to determine how many rounds of egg freezing I might need. I walked in clinging to hope, but the reality was stark. The doctor explained that the goal was ten follicles per ovary; I had ten total—three on one side and six on the other. They told me I would likely need two rounds of freezing, at a cost of $20,000, not including prescriptions or storage fees.
What I remember most was the look on their faces—a heavy mixture of sadness and concern. I had never wanted to escape a doctor's office faster. I held my breath all the way to the elevator to avoid breaking down crying. I played it off well, offering a polite "thank you" and promising to schedule a follow-up, but the truth was I couldn't hear a word they were saying. There was a massive pit in my stomach. It was the scariest moment of my life.
There I was: thirty-something, fresh out of a long-term relationship, and being told that motherhood might not be in the cards for me.
The following month, seeking a second opinion, I went to a competing fertility clinic for another AMH test. The results were even more devastating: my AMH had dropped to 0.20. I was absolutely crushed. The weight of the news, coupled with the agony of potentially going $20,000 into debt for the procedure, became too much to bear. I decided to not move forward and let it go. I stepped away from the topic entirely and any thoughts of egg freezing.
A year later, during a routine gynecological exam, my doctor asked if I wanted children. I told her I did, but explained that my low AMH made it impossible. She tried to reassure me, noting that AMH is only one data point, and suggested we test my Day 3 FSH levels.
When I called for the results a week later, her words shattered my soul. "You have the eggs of a 55-year-old woman," she said. It felt like a final confirmation that motherhood was a closed door.
Once again, I chose to let it go. The topic was too heavy, a burden I decided I would have to figure out "later." At the time, I owned a media agency and decided to pour every ounce of my energy into my work. Running my own company allowed me to work remotely and travel the world—and that is exactly where my fertility story took yet another unexpected turn.