By: Cheri Bergeron
Thanks to the hard work of the feminists who came before me, I was raised to believe I could be anything. And I believed it.
I chased degrees, promotions, and adventure. I bought real estate. Moved cross country. I traveled solo. I built a life I was proud of. And throughout it all, I held tightly to the idea that motherhood would happen “someday”—when I was ready. When I found the right partner. When I was prepared to settle down. When the timing was perfect.
Because that’s what I had been told: Motherhood can wait. You have time.
It was a promise that felt empowering. And for many women, it was. The feminist movement opened doors that our grandmothers never walked through—doors to financial autonomy, professional possibilities, sexual expression, and the idea that motherhood is a choice, not a predetermined destiny.
But somewhere along the way, many of us misunderstood that promise. We believed having it all meant having it whenever we want. And when it came to fertility, we thought biology would be as flexible as our ambition.
It wasn’t.
When Time Becomes the Enemy
In my mid-30s, as I watched friends marry and start families, I waited patiently for my turn. I believed in the fairytale. I kissed a lot of frogs and even married a couple of them. And when that Cinderella story didn’t turn out the way I planned, I tried to force it—with the wrong person because my biological clock was ticking at a deafening pitch. But unlike the fairytale, the baby didn’t magically arrive.
By 40, I was no longer hoping for a baby “someday”—I was desperately hoping for a chance. I was suddenly facing a truth I hadn’t been prepared for: fertility has a timeline, even when everything else doesn’t.
I’ll never forget sitting in the fertility clinic for the first time, staring at a laminated graph the doctor slid across the table. It showed the steep drop in a woman’s fertility after 35, and an even sharper decline at 40. The image was clinical, matter-of-fact—just a line curving downward—but to me, it felt like a cliff. A quiet panic settled in. Why hadn’t I seen this graph ten years earlier? Why hadn’t anyone told me this wasn’t just a personal choice—it was a biological time bomb? When had I missed the memo?

Photo Courtesy: National Center of Chronic Disease Prevention and Health Promotion (Division of Reproductive Health)
I spent the next decade navigating a complex, emotional, and often isolating journey through IVF, donor conception, and ultimately, single motherhood by choice.
It wasn’t the fairytale I imagined. It was something braver.
What We Can Learn From Feminism
This isn’t an indictment of feminism. I am deeply grateful for what it gave me, coupled with a gentle reckoning of what it didn’t warn me about. Feminism gave me freedom. But it didn’t always give me the whole picture about motherhood.
We can—and should—support women in building careers, living fully, and making intentional choices. But we also need to equip them with the truth about their biology, the realities of fertility, and the full spectrum of options available to them. Egg freezing. IVF. Donor paths. Solo parenthood.
Not because they must take those routes—but because they deserve to know they exist.
A New Kind of Empowerment
In my book, Mission: Motherhood, I share my unconventional journey to motherhood not to prescribe a path, but to open the conversation. Because the longer we keep fertility behind closed doors, the more women will find themselves blindsided by choices they never knew they had to make.
It’s time to update the narrative. To tell the next generation of women: Yes, you can be anything. But if motherhood matters to you, don’t leave it on the back burner.
Let’s stop telling women they have plenty of time and start giving them the tools to decide for themselves. Let’s make conversations about egg freezing, IVF, and solo motherhood as normal as career planning or dating advice.
Because if motherhood is part of your purpose, you deserve more than empty promises. You deserve the facts—and a path forward.
Disclaimer: The information shared in this article is based on the author’s personal experiences and reflections. It is not intended to serve as medical advice. Fertility and reproductive health are complex and individual, and results may vary. Always consult with a healthcare professional or fertility specialist for advice tailored to your unique circumstances. This article does not endorse any specific products, services, or treatment options, and any references to third-party services are purely informational.