Traveling to Estonia to Freeze My Eggs Was the Most Empowering Trip I’ve Taken

For Travel + Leisure’s column Traveling As, we’re talking to travelers about what it’s like to explore the world through their unique perspectives. We talked to corporate social responsibility director Tess Murphy about her journey to freeze her eggs in Estonia until the time is right. Here’s her story… 

When I was 28, I had just gotten out of a long-term relationship and a coworker was talking about egg freezing. She was 36 and said the one thing she wished she’d known was to do it when she was younger. I had been thinking about it myself, but egg freezing is expensive — about $10,000 to $15,000 in the U.S. — so it’s not something anyone in their 20s can take on.  

Plus, I’ve always been an avid traveler. I backpacked for two years and lived in Africa for six months. I was quite nomadic in nature and led a lifestyle that wasn’t set up for a long-term relationship. But when I settled in New York, I started dating and realized motherhood was further off than I thought. So, right before my 33rd birthday, I decided to freeze my eggs.

I first reached out to my HR department to see if it was covered by insurance. Some companies pay for egg freezing, but I learned mine doesn’t. My gynecologist referred me to a fertility clinic in Manhattan and I went in for testing. They said I was a viable candidate and would send the invoice. 

When I got the email, it was a bill for $12,000. I was shocked. I began to think about payment plans. I was already paying off my car loan and applying for grad schools at the time — it all felt too overwhelming.  

Then, I saw a piece in The New York Times titled “Have Eggs, Will Travel to Freeze Them,” with three stories of women who froze their eggs in Europe, where it’s much cheaper.

I started reaching out to European clinics and had consultations with one in Spain, the Czech Republic, and Estonia. You can’t research your way into this decision; you really have to choose the clinic that feels right to you. I had a Zoom call with the doctors in Estonia — they were all women and their warmth exuded through the screen.

I wanted to pair the trip with a wedding I had in Europe, so I had the consultation in April and booked the procedure in June. It was pretty quick — I didn’t want or need more time to think about it.

The clinic sent me a schedule. I’d go on birth control the month before to control my cycle. Then, I’d have to inject myself with medication for two weeks before the procedure. This included two different types of hormone drugs: one in the evening and one in the morning to start a few days in. The first dose is timed to the second day of your period.

For me, that happened to be the night of the wedding I was attending. It felt surreal to be at this medieval castle in Scotland, surrounded by my friends. It was one of the last weddings in our friend group; I already felt the passing of time and that we were all entering a new phase of life. I was nervous about starting this fertility journey, but open-minded. The taboo around this topic is ridiculous. Women have these very real issues we should all talk about.

Every country is different, but I had about a week before I needed to get to Estonia for my first appointment. I spent that time traveling to London and then to Finland to visit a friend. I took the boat from Helsinki to Tallinn for my first appointment, where they looked at how the follicles were growing.

The thing the clinic stressed is that the injections have to be done at the same time every day. So, you do have to kind of drop what you’re doing and figure it out. While I was traveling, the alarm would go off in the most ridiculous places.

I’d be on a train traveling through the countryside from Edinburgh to London and my alarm would go off. The train was rocking, but I went to the bathroom, cleaned, and injected it. I would be in a sauna in Finland and I could hear the alarm going off in the locker room. I got out and injected myself and then went back into the sauna. I did it on the ferry across the Baltic to Estonia. I did it in the bathroom at one of Helsinki’s best restaurants, Baskeri & Basso. It didn’t feel as heavy emotionally because I was seeing all these places. 

At the first appointment, they did an ultrasound and told me to come back in three days for another exam because the eggs have to be exactly the right size. If they’re too big, your body will drop or release them. You don’t want that to happen because they need to catch them. 

So, I went off to Pärnu for the Midsummer festival and then hopped back to Tallinn for another ultrasound. They told me when to take the trigger shot, which is usually 12 hours before retrieval — it triggers the eggs to get released. 

It was helpful to have my trip bookended by friends. I started at the wedding and then went to my best friend’s place in Helsinki. My other friend from college also flew in and they threw me an egg going-away party. I walked into a courtyard and there was a bottle of Champagne and an egg-shaped cake that read, “Bon Voyage Eggies.” 

That actually made me more emotional than the egg freezing. It’s a recognition of other milestones in life that are worth celebrating beyond the traditional moments, like having kids or getting married. There are so many other choices women make that are worth celebrating in the same way. 

That said, it was very nerve-wracking. I had no idea what to expect. But the moment I walked in the clinic, I felt at ease. I saw the women I saw on Zoom. While the language barrier was tough, they reassured me. There were some doctors who didn’t speak English, so they brought in translators. I asked a lot of questions, so that was a challenge.

Overall, they made the process feel normal and low stakes. The procedure is 20 minutes long. You get up and leave after. I flew home the next day. Demystifying that is so important for women who are debating the cost, pain, and procedure. 

The procedure wound up being about 1,800 euros, plus more for the medications and consultations. I probably spent a little south of $5,000. In New York, I would have walked away with a bill in the range of $13,000 to $15,000. On top of that, the storage is about $1,000 a year in the U.S., whereas it’s about a euro a day in Estonia. I’m considering going back for another round of freezing because you usually need one to two rounds. And generally, the more eggs you have, the better. 

If and when I have a child from those eggs, I will have more of a connection to Estonia. Right now, it just felt like a blip, almost like a teeth cleaning. But one day, it could be my children that are stored there.

At the moment, there’s more life I want to live before I become a mother. The reality is I have friends who are moms and they don’t have the same options or freedom. I’m going to Oxford to get my MBA. I’m 35 right now, so who knows? I could look back when I’m 40, and say, you didn’t have as much time as you thought. But I think I’ll revisit it in a few years. 

Travel provides the space and freedom to explore who you are in a way that is unencumbered by expectations. It offers a sense of independence. Once you open yourself up to the world, the world will open itself back to you, and you learn that the things that seem scary are actually not that scary. 

That’s ingrained in egg freezing as well — and having those two interlinked is powerful. I’m a firm believer in making decisions not rooted in fear, but in what will expand your life in a rich way.

I still don’t know if I want to be a mom. But I do know, like with everything in life, having options is empowering. And making a decision based on your wants and needs, instead of what society and your biology tells you, is important. 

Women have an option and this was me investing in my future me so that I have that choice when I want to make it, right when I’m ready to.