Time, Ambition, and the Quiet Revolution of Womanhood
Reclaiming choice, redefining freedom, and rediscovering what truly matters for women balancing career and family planning
Last month, I was interviewed by a scholar from NYU on the topic of female reproductive choices. The research focused on women from diverse cultural backgrounds, social environments, and career paths, and how these factors shape their family planning decisions. This article is a recollection of the thoughts that surfaced during that conversation.
“YOLO”
Like many women, I didn’t give the topic much thought until my mid-thirties. Raised in an era of feminism and individuality, we were encouraged to build ourselves, chase dreams, collect experiences, and break free from traditional expectations. And that was powerful. Yet paradoxically, this freedom—amplified by social media—ushered in a new set of demands: equally ambitious, equally restrictive.
In discarding outdated norms, we unknowingly adopted a new “template of freedom”—one that urged us to be hyper-independent, successful, adventurous, and constantly self-optimizing. Without realizing it, many of us began following a different kind of societal mold. And in that race to be strong, successful, and independent, we rarely paused to ask ourselves: What do I really want?
During the interview, I reflected on my career—a life once so dazzling that I couldn’t imagine an alternative. My days were filled with deadlines, meetings, and frequent flights for both work and leisure. I had a beautiful apartment in Vienna’s city center, yet I barely lived in it. It was a stylish pit stop, not a home. From the outside, my life looked ideal. I was the definition of "YOLO": ambitious, well-traveled, and always on the move, with a feed full of picture-perfect moments. But beneath the surface, I began to question: Was I truly free?
Free from fear and free from want
Freedom, I’ve come to realize, isn’t just about having choices. Sometimes, it’s about not needing to choose—because everything you value is already within reach.
I noticed how many of my male peers seemed to live this second kind of freedom. They had both high-powered careers and families that moved with them across borders. Their partners—often women—shouldered the emotional and domestic labor that made it all work. Meanwhile, many women I knew remained single, were single mothers, or had made hard sacrifices to pursue one dream while putting another on hold. And even when men choose to discard a traditional family lifestyle, they are often seen as choosing desire over compromise.
For women, freedom should mean being able to shape our lives across a spectrum—not choosing between extremes. Not just career women, homemakers, or perfectly balanced in-between jugglers, but all the gradients in between. And we deserve both the right and the time to evolve toward any direction we choose.
I wanted a life of diversity—where different chapters reflect different focuses, and no single role defines me. That diversity, to me, is identity.
Freezing time
Fortunately, reproductive technology has allowed modern women to extend their biological window. But legal and financial hurdles still remain. In Austria, for example, it’s illegal for unmarried women to freeze their eggs. So, like many others, I crossed borders to preserve my fertility.
I ended up at a clinic in Manhattan, under the care of a renowned Jewish-American doctor. The process was technically smooth but emotionally trembling. Each day, I gave myself hormone injections and walked down Fifth Avenue after blood tests, quietly wondering: What exactly am I preserving? My future? My autonomy? Or just an illusion of control?
The results were excellent. But once the biological clock is “paused”, we still face another question: What are we doing with this extended window of time? Are we just repeating the same cycle of what has been already achieved?
During an alumni reunion in Paris, I had a revealing conversation with an old friend. We talked about the dilemma women face when balancing ambition, family, and time—and how difficult it is to “have it all”. Not just children—but partnership. While men often partner with those who prioritize family, ambitious women tend to seek partners as driven as they are, if not more so. The outcome? Two career-focused individuals often lack the bandwidth for building and nurturing a family. And so, the traditional “model of family” persists—but mostly in male-dominated success stories.
When life happens
My career unraveled during the COVID-19 pandemic—not due to lack of work, but due to a value clash. I opposed a management decision to force employees back into the office during lockdown, for no practical reason other than appearances. Around the same time, my then-partner’s parent and step-parent passed away in New York. When I requested remote work to grieve and support his family, the rejection was swift and unapologetic.
I’ll never forget sitting in that room with four white male managers lined up across from me. Their decision felt cold, and their words cut deep: “You’re not even married.” It was as though my commitment to my relationship was invalid simply because it didn’t fit into the corporate mould of an organization that was supposed to prioritize humanity as its highest mandate. At that moment, I felt invisible—even after years of loyalty and consistent performance. I held back tears, got on a flight, and left.
The pandemic brought unimaginable challenges, but it also offered clarity. I began to see how fleeting “ambitious and free” truly is. Youth, strength, and the so-called career as a dispensable institutional cog, none of it would last forever, and no amount of professional success can shield us from the vulnerabilities of life. In our darkest moments, it’s not the applause or the awards that save us. What remains? Human connections and support systems. Witnessing loss up close, I understood the importance of family, community, and the relationships we often take for granted. I realized we’re not meant to walk alone. Our spotlight moments will never compare to the people who hold us when the lights go out.
Plan A, B, and C
Looking back, leaving my job turned out to be a blessing in disguise. It gave me the space to heal, reflect, and realign my priorities. The reward? A family of my own. Today, I have a gentle-hearted husband who balances his career and fatherhood with the grace of a seasoned pro, and a soft, cheerful baby girl who brightens our world every day.
As for those frozen eggs? I never ended up needing them. Just like a good insurance policy for contingency, I was fortunate not to have to use it. But what I gained from the experience went far beyond fertility preservation—it gave me a stronger sense of agency in family planning and a healthier mindset when it came to dating and relationships.
After my previous relationship, I did consider fertility options for single women. But I’ve always believed that a quality partner is better than single parenthood, which in turn is better than co-parenting with an unsuitable partner. Childbearing may be a choice, but raising a child must prioritize the child’s well-being.
To my understanding, children thrive best with two positive role models—it helps them develop emotionally, form healthy relationships in adulthood, and understand their own identities. The worst scenario, by contrast, is a toxic environment created by one or even two damaging parental influences. With that in mind, I knew I would prefer to bring a child into the world only with a partner who shared the same vision.
When I resumed dating, I did so with a deliberate and discerning lens—shaped by mindset, values, and a mutual pursuit of meaningful connection. I was fortunate to live in a society that doesn’t stigmatize unmarried women, allowing me to enjoy nearly four decades of freedom, during which I built a rich tapestry of life experiences and attained independence.
Dating, however, had become a far more complicated landscape. Cultural dynamics were shifting. People of all genders were increasingly burdened by unrealistic expectations, unresolved insecurities, and deep uncertainties about their place in the world. I noticed a pervasive lack of clarity—not only about what people were seeking in others, but also about what they truly needed in themselves.
Again, time was my greatest asset. It gave me the chance to develop a sharper sense of self, to define clear boundaries, and to engage in relationships with grace rather than urgency. I knew I didn’t have to compromise or rush. I could simply enjoy the journey—until one day, I met the one who would become my partner and the father of my child. If not, it would also be okay. True to his word, he now carries the responsibilities for our family and actively embraces his role in parenting. He has stepped into fatherhood not as a passive bystander but as an equal participant, sharing in both the joys and challenges of raising a child.
A new kind of freedom
Now at fourty, I often surprise myself with how fully I’ve embraced this new identity. Once a career woman disinterested in family life, I’ve become a “career mother”—grateful for the chance to spend each day with my daughter since the moment she was born. There is no pressure, no doubt—only the quiet confidence of an unrushed, conscious choice. Where I once focused solely on building myself, I’ve discovered a deeper kind of fulfillment in nurturing others and raising a new life through which my self-development expanded to a broader horizon.
On the side, I also embarked on a new venture in green technology as a business partner and cofounder—a professional pursuit that continues to align with one of my all-time commitments: sustainability and development. Only this time, I’m walking the talk outside the institutional framework, no longer driven by external expectations or professional pressure. I’m doing it on my own terms—and purely for the joy of creating. I no longer feel split between want and fear. I no longer feel the need to prove anything. I am building a life with layers instead of labels—a life that’s fully mine.
Time, once my greatest adversary, is now my ally. And with it come endless possibilities.