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Don't bet the farm

I talked to my doctor on the phone today. After Monday's ultrasound, I was too stunned to ask any questions, so I was glad for the opportunity to get some answers.

Sure wish he'd had some.

His predictions weren't as grim as my reading had led me to believe — he said he'd guess our chances were in the neighborhood of 50/50. "If I had to put money on it," he said, "I'd guess it'd turn out okay."

But I'm pretty sure he's not exactly packing his bags for Vegas. What I don't know is whether he's talking entirely out of his ass, or whether he's basing his opinion on specific aspects of my case and his own experience. He and his staff have always tried to give me the best possible care, but I'm not convinced this is within his field of expertise. I am not especially reassured.

I asked what causes early oligohydramnios. Unknown.

I asked whether I should be concerned about it in future pregnancies. Unknown.

I asked when we could expect a resolution. If I'm to miscarry, will it be sooner or later? If I'm not, when will we be able to breathe easily? He couldn't offer any idea about how swiftly I might miscarry. His opinion was that if I make it to 12 weeks, he'd feel comfortable (with some hemming and hawing) releasing me to a regular OB/GYN. But he also said he'd recommend various kinds of prenatal testing, which we otherwise wouldn't have considered based on my age.

He tried to be encouraging about our future prospects. "We did get you pregnant both times..." he said, in reference to this cycle and the previous one. (I waspishly reminded him of our numerous prior unsuccessful IUIs. I am not particularly receptive right now to encouragement.) From a clinical standpoint, I suppose it is good news that I can get pregnant, but that information is of little comfort in the absence of a live birth.