Do you want to be a mother someday?

I've asked myself this question a number of times over the years. Usually, my answer was "yes". But whenever I asked myself if I want to be a mother now, the answer was "no". I apparently have never desired motherhood enough to do it on my own. So in some ways I concluded I don't really want it badly enough.

Over the past year, I've made great strides in accepting my life choices and enjoying my life as it is. This is the longest period of time that I can recall being able to say "I am truly happy. I love my life, and I love who I am." It's a pretty cool place to be.

But then, occasionally, I find myself thrust into a situation that simply knocks me on my ass. Today was one of those days.

I had to go get a pelvic sonogram. It was prescribed by my gyn for reasons I won't go into. But suffice it to say it was not to check on the health of my baby as I am clearly not pregnant.

I arrive at the doctor's office and take my seat in the waiting room. I am surrounded by glowing, blissful couples. The women are lovingly caressing their pregnant bellies, their husbands holding their hands. The nurses call the expecting moms into the office one by one saying "I'll come back out to get your husband". One husband sits to my right looking at sonogram pictures and lovingly chuckling to himself.

Pain strikes me in my chest. I continue to sip on my huge iced tea, as I was instructed to fill my bladder for best results (pregnant women do not need to do this.) I take deep breaths and try to calm my thoughts. I can't distract myself with the pile of magazines on the table next to me; only parenting and pregnancy magazines are available.

Finally, I get called into the office. It's the typical cold, sterile feeling of changing into an awful cloth gown and having to wait for what seems like forever in an overly air conditioned room.

Those of you that have had a sonogram when you were pregnant remember the excitement- seeing the heart beating, being shown the area that indicates whether your baby is a boy or a girl. Those of us that haven't had that experience have often seen what it's like. It's a common scene in movies and tv shows- the reluctant mother that falls in love with her unborn child the moment she sees it on the monitor. I've had friends that have proudly shown me their baby's sonogram pictures, pointing out the body parts.

While I was there on the table, with the doctor performing the procedure, he directed me to look at the tv screen. I'm not sure you can imagine what it's like to be a part of this somehow familiar scenario, glancing at the tv screen, and looking at your completely...empty...uterus. It was like getting stabbed in the heart with a huge knife and having it twisted back and forth. I kept trying to squeeze my eyes shut, but the doctor kept pointing things out to me.

I had to push the pain away because I didn't want to cry right there in the doctor's office. Push it aside, don't think about it. Don't feel sorry for yourself. I began to get angry- at myself, at every man I've ever loved. How did this happen?

So why am I writing about something so intensely personal? Well, for one, it feels good to write about it. And I'm kind of hoping there is a twenty-something or thirty-something woman out there reading this that connects with what I'm saying. If you were to ask me ten or fifteen years ago if I thought there was a chance that I'd be without a family at forty, I would have said "no way". I never thought it would happen to me. I felt sorry for the women in that situation, assuming they had somehow messed up and caused their "problem".

I think it's important to know that you really don't have forever to make this decision. In recent years, it's become popular to talk about how older women are becoming mothers. I believe it's exaggerated. They don't mention that most of these women don't (can't) use their own eggs. Or they don't carry the baby themselves. So the chances of having a child that is biologically yours becomes slimmer and slimmer.

Young women talk about having their eggs frozen. A few years ago, when I mentioned this option to my gyn, she became agitated. "I hate how they have fooled women into thinking that's a viable option!" She stressed that it's a very expensive option, and they still have not mastered the act of thawing the eggs effectively. In fact, the chance of getting pregnant with a once-frozen egg is slim. She told me the cost-benefit-risk factor does not make it as great an idea as it sounds.

Of course I don't want women to be a slave to the biological clock. But I do want them to make their decisions with their eyes wide open. Knowing all of the facts. And the potential consequences.

Sometimes the consequences slap me right in the face.