Jenny, I'm so sorry for the sad anniversary that you and Shawn have coming up over the loss of your beautiful son. Your story was so touching.
As for the original question, to answer the when to say when question as to when it's time to end infertility treatment, it's something you feel in your heart. When your body, heart and soul simply tells you to stop. At least, that's how it happened for me and I've heard that from other friends who did infertility treatments. We did six IUI's and six IVF cycles, one using donor sperm just to see if that helped (it didn't), and one FET cycle using donor embryos. All that got us was two miscarriages and a lot of heartache. So after the last IVF cycle, I was done. But then my doctor offered the option for donor embryos and, since I had the time to spare and the insurance to cover it, I did it on a whim. I ended up pregnant, but miscarried. I was the first patient she'd ever had to lose a pregnancy due to a trisomy from a donor egg from a 21-year-old. The irony didn't escape me.
When I was pregnant the second time, I confessed to a friend that I was worried about losing the pregnancy again. She said that God wouldn't give me more than I could bear. I told her that losing two pregnancies, one with twins, would be all that I could bear and that if it didn't work out, I'd know He meant for us to have a child a different way. We'd already planned on adopting before the donor embryos became available, so we continued on that journey as we'd intended.
The pain has eased over time. Instead of waking up and dreading this day for weeks, I realized just a little while ago that today is actually the two-year anniversary of the day that Joe and I went in for our ultrasound to see the baby's heartbeat and we found out that our baby boy had died and that we had to do a D&C immediately that day in order to have the tissue tested before I miscarried on my own. We had lost his twin a couple of weeks earlier, but my body was absorbing that tissue. We had held out such hope that we wouldn't lose this baby, too. However, it wasn't to be. I did dream of him before I knew he had died. It was a very vivid dream where I was holding him in my arms in a hospital and he was wrapped in a blue blanket. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt when I woke that I had dreamt of our baby. Sure enough, the testing revealed that he was a baby boy.
Our second pregnancy was a baby girl. It does hurt more to know the gender, but I feel that knowing more about the babies that died is a way of honoring them and their memory. They were real and they are now our angels.
And when it's time to stop, your heart will tell you. It might not tell you loudly, but if you listen, the answer is there. Prayer helps so much, too.
I do feel that all that we went through over these past several years has led us to this point in time for a reason, so that we can parent the child we were meant to be with. I can't wait to find out who the little guy or girl will be, but, then, patience has never been one of my virtues.