I have spent the last several weeks mostly not thinking about trying to conceive. Work has been a bear, so I've been busy. And we can't start again until I have a period after the last miscarriage, and we're five weeks on now.
Or is it six?
Ah, the bliss of not knowing. It's not very important. In fact, if it'll hold off even another week, I'll be able to stop worrying whether the end of August will involve trying to balance two weddings (one family wedding and the second where I'm matron of honor) with injections and doctor visits.
Our doctor gave us several choices at the last visit:
1. Do nothing for a few months. Take a break.
2. Do another cycle of Gonal-F.
3. Move on to IVF with genetic testing to see whether we can learn why every embryo we produce dies.
4. Egg donation.
He seems to want us to move on to IVF, though he admits he's not sure whether this latest miscarriage was a fluke. But -- he's a doctor, and the way I'm reading the situation is that he wants to know what the answer is.
I am less concerned about the answer and more concerned about the result. For that reason, since he's not sure, we've decided to try one more round of injections. When I told the nurse that, she made it clear she thought that was a fine path, which reassured me some.
The hard part is that, although that seems like the best choice for us -- least expensive (this round of drugs is discounted with the pharmacy and we already have the progesterone) and also least invasive -- it may mean we are effectively choosing another miscarriage.
I have to remember there are no guarantees with any path we choose, at any time. Even babies born at term do not come with a guarantee that they will live long, healthy lives and die in their beds at a hundred and two.