So what happens now?

Another suitcase in another hall ... or another round of birth control and shots. Your pick.

I choose the pills and shots. What that means is that Tuesday I started three more weeks of birth control pills, after which we'll have another ultrasound and start another round of Follistim injections.

I suspect what happened this last time is that we missed the egg. Well, clearly we missed the egg. But I suspect that part of the problem was timing: when they're trying to tell you exactly when to do the deed (erm, "time intercourse"), and the hormone levels tell them you're ovulating without the trigger shot, they don't really have a good way to determine timing. So instead of two tries at their best guess of the right time to fertilize the egg, we got one each of two different "maybes."

How are we? Tired of living life in two-week increments, but resolute about trying again. I keep reminding myself it could be worse: I read an obituary today for a child who was just exactly the age we would have had if the first round of clomid had worked. Our path could be rockier. There's no guarantee it won't be, but we'll take our chances.

In the meantime, I've tried to make Organizer Peter Walsh ... well, if not proud, then at least less horrified. I took two full bags of clothing out of my closet today to give away, including 3 suits I haven't worn in years. Not so much call for suits in small-library children's librarianship. Especially ones that don't fit. I hope they find someone who can use them. And maybe we'll get a little closer to "creating what we want from the space."