Alcohol-gate

The bleak mood has past and I feel bouncy again, but am still a little shocked it reared its ugly mug again in the first place. And afraid.
It was scarey - not like last year but I couldn't help but be reminded of then. When the discussion of which takeaway to order could result in me running out of the house in tears and H exploding with fury.
Things ARE so much better now. Everyone says we seem better. Especially since I gave up the job and stopped working those extreme hours which meant we never saw each other.
But the lack of a clear future and purpose makes me very jittery at times.
I thought I was comfortable with the 'modified plan', vague and full of delays though it was. And mostly, I am. But then, sometimes I am not.
After IVF failed in July it took a month to stop crying. Then we decided to take the doctor's advice and try taking the DHEA tablets for 3 months before trying again - perhaps at a different clinic.
Then H wanted to go back to Australia, where he is from, for Christmas. He pointed out he had only been back for Christmas once in 10 years. So we agreed to put off the treatment until after we came back.
Then there was alcohol-gate. Doctor said no, or very little, booze for either of us and to eat lots of broccoli. H said nothing but started drinking more than normal and stopped eating broccoli, which he loves.
When I confronted him, there was pure rant. 'I refuse. The 1 % difference not drinking would make is not worth the misery being in this state of 'not living' would cause. And I can't go through Christmas and New Year being frowned at by you every time I have a drink.'
Considering I had had a complete freak out about something else the week before I just let him rant. It was obviously an issue of pressure.
But a week or so later and I was still upset. The press had chosen that week to go mad with reports that an IVF couple drinking as little as 1 bottle of wine between them per week could reduce their chances by around 38%. Plus you have to be living healthily for at least 3 months before treatment. It was everywhere I looked.
I couldn't stop thinking about whether there was any point going through treatment if H refused to cut down on booze and eat healthily? Was there any point in me watching everything I did if he didn't? Was there any point in our relationship if he couldn't compromise over something so important? And if we couldn't have children - what was the point in anything?
Then we did manage to have a calm conversation - about the booze and lack of sex in our lives. A compromise was reached that we would go to Oz and drink and make merry but then delay the treatment and spend 3 months being healthy when we came back.
Most of the time this is fine. It is so nice having loving H back and so nice not getting back from work at 2am that I am just living for the present.
But then panics come in waves. Did he really mean that about no booze in January? What does he mean by no booze? None or just less? Will he change his mind?
And I feel terrified about the short and finite amount of time my fertile window allows me, and how I might be watching the little chance/time I have fly away from me. And I feel horribly alone.