The best gift the Bank of Mum and Dad can give their kids? A chance at parenthood

“How do you want your eggs?” I asked my daughter over breakfast on her 33rd birthday, “Fertilised?” I then presented her with an egg-freezing gift voucher.

So many female friends are singing the same tune that it’s become like the maternal version of the musical Frozen. Our main refrain? That we’re worried about when – and if – the snooze alarm is going off on our daughters’ biological clocks.

By 33, I’d had two marriages and two children. But my darling daughter is still happily dating and very much in demand. She’s also part of a trend. Women are having fewer babies, later. The Australian Bureau of Statistics reports that births per 1000 women aged 20–24 have fallen sharply – by roughly three-quarters since the post-war baby boom. Australia’s total fertility rate has also dropped to a record low of 1.48 births per woman. Meanwhile, the average age of mothers has increased, with more births occurring in the mid-30s and beyond.

But eggs have a use-by date. While dinosaurs like Donald Trump could father a child tonight, female fertility noticeably decreases after a woman reaches her late 30s. By 40, the chances of conceiving naturally are as likely as the Sexual Predator-in-Chief running a feminist workshop.

So why are so many women ignoring the deafening tick-tock? For some, it’s an economic decision: childcare is a “crèche” course in how to go broke fast. And it’s not just the extortionate childcare costs and housing crisis putting ovaries into aeroplane mode, there’s also job insecurity. Step off the career ladder and those rungs prove mighty slippery when trying to scramble back on.

Some businesses, including Goldman Sachs and Facebook (now Meta) are so keen to retain valued female employees that they offer health insurance covering several cycles of egg harvesting. It gives a whole new meaning to “frozen assets”, right?

Our daughters’ reluctance may also stem from watching their own mothers desperately trying to juggle kids and careers. Hell, working mums juggle so much we could be in Cirque du Soleil. My generation thought we were going to Have It All, but we just ended up Doing It All. Women face a second glass ceiling at home. Even though we make up 48 per cent of the workforce, we’re still doing most of the housework, childcare and emotional labour. Men say they’d like to help more around the house only they can’t multitask. Come on, boys. This is such a biological cop-out. I doubt any man would have trouble multitasking in a throuple.

So, what’s the solution? Universal free childcare would help, as pledged by New York’s inspiring Mayor Zohran Mamdani. As would improved paid paternity leave. At the moment, society expects women to work as if we don’t have children and raise children as if we don’t work.

I don’t want to put a timer on my daughter’s romantic life, especially if Prince Charming is stuck in traffic, so why not buy some peace of mind about future fertility by whacking a dozen eggs in the freezer? Well, the price. If men gave birth, IVF would undoubtedly be publicly owned and free. But Australian fertility clinics typically quote between about $7000 and $12,000 for a single egg-freezing cycle, with annual storage fees usually ranging from $300 to $600. Which is why grandkid-craving mums are happy to help out.

A fertilised egg has an even greater chance of hatching, so I also want to pay for a withdrawal from the sperm bank. Finally, a bank we gals can really count on! And so preferable to settling for second best. How well I remember the panic that set in among my single girlfriends back in the ’90s. Suddenly, they were no longer looking for Mr Right, but Mr Kinda-OK, Mr Slightly Bearable, Mr Two-Corpses-Short-of-a-Serial-Killer just to get their eggs fertilised. Forget beer blinkers. There’s nothing as foggy as a pair of baby goggles. Basically, if the guy had his own teeth and didn’t collect Hannibal Lecter memorabilia, it was a case of: “Wow, you’re definitely dad material!”

Nordic sperm tops the most desirable donor list worldwide, but I’m busy rating my daughter’s gay male pals by their designer genes. The bloke I particularly like I refer to as my “sperm-in-law”, just to, um, egg him on.

With wars raging and impending ecological Armageddon, it’s not difficult to fathom why young women are reluctant to procreate. But parenthood is the greatest love affair imaginable. Unconditional, although, no, come to think of it, there are some conditions – no child must ever be allowed to take up the drums, bagpipes or descant recorder. But nothing prepares you for the great joy that squeezes into your bone marrow at your baby’s first smile. I so want my daughter to experience the joy she gives me on a daily basis. It’s a foetal attraction that lasts a lifetime – even if you have to defrost it first.

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