2%

It is amazing how much a number can affect one's life. 2%. That is our number. That is the percentage  probability that our RE has assigned to us as our chance to conceive naturally at any given cycle. Granted. He may be wrong (it does seem surprisingly low), but for now, that is the number that we have floating above our heads as we go through our TTC life.

This number has had severe implications on our everyday life. I think we both feel some relief to finally know what we are dealing with, but when RE announced his expert opinion: 2%, it has had an effect similar to that of a nuclear bomb. An Infertility nuclear bomb, as I like to call it. And it has unexpectedly pushed us to levels of stress that we had not previously experienced. Only this time, for the first time, we are going through it together.

Allow me to put this in context:
DP has been extremely supportive through all the appointments, infertility investigations, blood tests, HSG's, information sessions, etc. He has in fact, been the rock, the foundation and the relentless strength that has kept me going through all the uncomfortable and disappointing moments that would have otherwise beaten me down to the point of surrender. He has consistently picked me up and led the way. He has been strong and relentless.
I, on the other hand, have allowed myself the luxury of having the cyclical breakdowns, crying spurts, and other various expressions of grief along the way. And at times, during my temporary bouts of infertility madness,  I have, occasionally (and I admit this with complete shame), confused his even-toned temper with a lack of interest or concern for our "condition". Thankfully, he has had the patience and love to always reassure me.

For his strength and stability, I am forever grateful, and I love him endlessly.

All of this, in combination with the most recent set of news from our doctors (that damn 2%, and the realization that we are dealing with multiple infertility issues: a slightly reduced ovarian reserve and a low motility count) are making it virtually impossible to conceive on our own AND it has finally proved to be too much, even for my even-toned husband.
I did not realize how much stress had built up in him. And just how much this damn infertility has affected him, until he himself has began to show signs of severe stress. One morning he found himself shouting at nothing and no-one in morning rush-hour traffic, while I sat next to him silently. He did not know how or why, and I could sadly relate.
I ached to hug him. Take him in my arms and tell him everything would be ok, like the countless times he has done that for me, but at that exact moment, I felt letting him have his very own fertility melt-down was the best thing to do. And indeed, after some deep breaths, it passed. But the reality is that the effects of this process are very real for both of us, and every so often the stress surfaces at the most unexpected of times.

Despite that awful 2% bomb that was dropped on us, we have been told there are solutions at our disposal. It comes in the form of a 3-letter magic acronym: I-V-F. Apparently without this wondrous technology, we would live with the dreaded 2% above our infertile heads indefinitely. And while we are told it's not impossible to conceive naturally, nobody knows how long it would take....and that is the problem...TIME.

So, IVF it is!

Let it be so...