Eight months after my 30th birthday, I realized that I did, in fact, want children. In my 20s, I was never really sure. I thought of it as a kind of eventuality, something I’d get to once my life no longer revolved around friends and travel and chasing the next story. Something for the next, much more grown-up phase of my life. Then I learned that the choice might not be mine to make. My egg reserve levels were teetering on the edge of “critically low” and all signs pointed towards early menopause, a condition I now know runs in my family.