Just Lucky?

Thanks for the encouraging comments on my last post. It's good to know that I'm not alone in my feelings, but at the same time I always hate that others are struggling with some aspect of infertility, too.

We had a lovely anniversary. It was on a Monday this year, so it was a regular work day for my husband and a regular day at home for Lily and me. That evening the three of us went out to dinner together to celebrate. We weren't at all sad that we weren't able to go out alone on that day. That's nice to do, but it was really great to be together. We had 12 anniversaries without children and were so happy to have her with us for the occasion this year.

Two days later we had our follow-up visit with our RE. We have to drive into Houston to get there so we dropped Lily off with her aunt (my sister-in-law), who was very excited to spend some one-on-one time with her. (That evening Lily stayed with her aunt again for a couple of hours while we went out to dinner to celebrate our anniversary... again. We had a very nice time but we sure did miss our girl! It was so sweet to come back to her smiling face.)

It felt very strange to be back at the doctor's office. There was a couple in the elevator with us on the way out who looked nervous and uncertain, and we both wondered what kind of news they had gotten or what they were facing. We said nothing to them, though, because we know there just aren't any words that help during that time. Still, our hearts were very sensitive to those around us who were still waiting on their babies. And while I would have liked for Lily to have met Dr. G, I was glad she was happily playing at Aunt Allie's house instead of in the waiting room with us, just in case it might have caused anyone additional sadness or hurt.

As I wrote in the last post, I was unsure what to expect from this appointment going into it. I was not expecting that it would be treated as my well-woman exam. Frankly, I thought I was going to remain clothed during the visit and was a bit surprised when we were led to an exam room and I was instructed to undress from the waist down. No harm done, of course -- I'm used to those appointments by now. And I don't have to worry about having another well-woman visit for a whole year, which is always good.

The checkup didn't take long and we did have a little bit of time to chat with the doctor. My main question that I wanted to ask was whether he thought that using Femara and Ovidrel was what made the difference for this pregnancy. Did it help our chances because we started with a really good egg? I had, of course, hoped that the answer would be yes. Unfortunately, his response was that we had either started with a really good egg... OR we had just gotten lucky this time.

Now, I know that you know that I attribute Lily's existence to God and His power. That won't ever change! I won't dwell on the whole matter of God or luck in this post because I think it's clear to you what I believe. And I don't think that the doctor was trying to discount that either. I think that, in his medical opinion, he simply can't determine medically whether the fertility meds aided in the success of our seventh pregnancy, or whether it was just the one that worked.

To be honest with you, it was the answer I feared. It would have been great to know that we could identify exactly what to do to increase our chances of another successful pregnancy. It would have been so reassuring to know that we had a solution -- a way to avoid going back to where we've been so many times in the past when we've gotten pregnant and lost the baby.

If/when we do try again, we will have to make the choice of either trying on our own or doing what we did last time. Either way, I know it will be in God's hands.

I'm thankful that we do have Lily. I'm grateful that God intervened and gave us a beautiful daughter to love here on earth. I'm confident that He knows what my future holds even when I feel scared to move forward.

And, no matter how it turns out, I'm relieved that I can trust Him instead of relying on luck.