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I didn’t know what IVF was when she first brought it up.

In my head, it sounded like something advanced. Complicated. Probably expensive.

So I asked the first thing that came to mind — the number.

She said around RM20,000.

My first reaction wasn’t shock. It was doubt.

RM20k didn’t feel like the full picture. It felt like the starting point. The kind of number that opens the door, not closes it.

I didn’t say much after that. I just kept that thought to myself.

At that point, I didn’t even know what IVF would involve. What it would take from us. What it could give us. Everything about it felt like unknown territory.

But she was clear about one thing.

To her, a family without a child felt incomplete.

I didn’t argue with that. I didn’t fully agree either. I just listened.

Somewhere in between, I decided I would go with her on this.

Not because I understood everything.
But because she did.

Still, I had one condition before we stepped in.

I told her — if we do this, we need to agree first on what happens if it doesn’t work.

We only had the ability to try once. Financially, that was our limit. It wasn’t a choice. It was just reality.

So I said, if it works, we move forward as a family of three.

If it doesn’t, we accept it, and we move on as the two of us.

No second guessing. No blame.

At that time, I thought I was being practical.

Like setting a boundary. Or managing risk.

But looking back, it wasn’t really about the money.

I just didn’t want her to live with disappointment thinking we should have tried more, or done something differently.

I didn’t want that weight to sit on her over time.

So I told her something simple.

No matter the outcome, I will walk with her.

She agreed.

And that was it.

That was how we stepped into IVF.

Not fully understanding it.
Not fully prepared.

But already knowing how we would face the ending — whatever it might be.