Normally, this is the kind of "advice" that would just piss me off. (Sorry for the blunt language, but I didn't want to pussyfoot around. I can be something of a curmudgeon, if you hadn't realized that before.) Honestly, it's the kind of "advice" that annoys a lot of people with infertility; I would put it in the same category with "I just know you're going to be parents someday! Don't give up!" (Really? Do you have a crystal ball or some special in with God?)
But coming from this friend... well, I just couldn't get upset. Quite frankly, I have absolutely no freaking idea how the heck she is as positive as she is. She's the only person I know who is more positive than my husband, which is saying something, since I have been known to refer to Husbandido as "The Infernal Optimist." She's only a couple (few?) years older than Husbandido and me, and yet she's had more back surgeries than I can count. If I think I spend a lot of time laying on the sofa feeling lousy, well, I'm a complete piker compared to her. It seems like she ends up flying to Germany at least once a year for back surgery. On top of all that, in her most recent letter she admitted that the last surgery went well, but there were problems with the recovery. Post-surgery she was in a coma, but "just a little one." (Her words, not mine.) It "only" lasted overnight. Also while she was in the hospital recovering, there was a mixup in medicines, which caused a severe reaction. Even now that she is home, it is hard for her to write even a short note. Coming from someone who has undeniably suffered so much more than I, her comments were humbling.
But what does it mean to "never give up, never surrender?" I think most of us would acknowledge that there may very well come a time to stop treatment, and not everyone is called to adoption. To me, it means waiting and making decisions when you are in the right frame of mind, not when it is CD1 when the loss is overwhelming, and maybe not when you are overwhelmed with hope because your doc has come up with a treatment that really should work. It means being able to weigh your chances against the costs (monetary, physical, and emotional) and make a good decision. It means praying for guidance and peace, listening to that still, small, voice, and letting Him answer. Getting to that point can be a real struggle, but it may be the only way to make a decision that won't either leave you utterly spent or with niggling doubts about "what if we had tried just this one more thing?"