What it's like to watch someone you love go through this

I want to start by saying that this is not my story. It is my wife's story, and she has given me permission to tell my small part of it — the view from the side, which is its own strange place to stand.

I could not take the injections for her. I could not make the follicles grow. I could not do anything except be there, and there were many days when being there felt like nowhere near enough.

The particular helplessness of loving someone through IVF

I am someone who solves problems. I research things, I make plans, I find options. IVF removed all of that from me. There was nothing to research that would change the outcome. There was no plan I could make that would help the embryo implant.

"I googled 'how to support partner through IVF' at midnight and cried at my phone. Not because the answers were bad. Because I'd needed to google it."

What I learned, slowly and imperfectly, was that being useful and being present are not the same thing. I could not fix this. But I could sit with her in it. And that turned out to matter more than I'd expected.

What I wish someone had told me

Your feelings are real and they are also not the point right now. That sounds harsh. I mean it gently. The person going through this physically is carrying something enormous, and your job in this season is to be strong enough to hold some of the emotional weight — not to add your own to the pile.

Find somewhere to put your feelings. A friend, a therapist, a long run, a journal. Not your partner, not right now.

And show up. In whatever small way you can, every day, show up. That is enough. That is everything.