Possibilities, probabilities and fertilities

We saw the ob/gyn instead of the fertile nurse. The pregnant waiting room was thankfully empty of pregnant women and there were only two other couples waiting in the fertility clinic.

My hormones are working, all levels are "good" to "great". I am ovulating well. Lots of follicles. My FSH level isn't a worry. I'm not even peri-menopausal yet.We are both "normal".

Phew. And wow. And possibly whoop.

On the other hand;

We're not pregnant yet.

There will be no IVF unless we win the lottery. And we rarely play the lottery.

There might be clomid, but I would need to lose some weight for that to be more effective and even so, I AM ovulating normally so it might be pointless.

My eggs are 42 years old. No really? Does that mean I might have an exceptionally mature child? No? Just that the odds aren't in our favour.

In a "last ditch attempt" after "trying everything" we might remove the fibroids, which are tiny now, they aren't in the womb cavity and "probably" aren't the reason we haven't conceived again yet and "probably" aren't the reason for "your earlier problems" ... hmmm... not sure how to take that last one, I think "earlier problems" refers to the bleeding I had during pregnancy and not to losing George. I hope so. Cos, you know, he's so much more than that. Anyway it would mean open surgery as opposed to laparoscopic surgery with weeks of recovery time and no guarantee that the possibility of scarring won't make things worse.

There was great news there but I still ended up filling up with tears in the clinic and having a good old cry in the car after. I wasn't expecting to see her for a start. The one who poked me with needles in delicate places and confirmed George's death with the portable grainy ultrasound that showed him slumped still and low in my womb. It brought it all back. Again. Every time I go back to the Maternity department I almost-but-not-quite manage to keep it together.

So. Lots of probably's and maybe's and possibly's. We keep trying. We think about fibroid surgery in three months or so but I'm already thinking no and Ray hates the idea of me going through major surgery. We think about being pregnant again. We think about not succeeding. We hope. We think about how long we can continue hoping. But we don't set a limit. Not yet.

We concentrate on the good news.

And "possibly" some chocolate therapy.