This Thanksgiving / Holiday season, I’ve noted a fun new festive quality in myself: COMPLETE AND UTTER VOID OF PATIENCE TO VIOLENT AND SOBBING DEGREES. While we were at Leatherwood, a mixup with our bank led to our mortgage payment not going through, and I had to wait, you know, 24 hours to be able to call them and sort it out, and so naturally, I lost my mind and I’m pretty sure I threw my phone on the floor. Last night, flying back to LA, my stupid entertainment screen did not work, nor did the internet, and so I slammed up my tray table and made sure Morrison and the entire airplane knew that my screen was not working, and it just wasn’t fair, because everyone else’s screens were working, and so MY screen should be working, WHY does everyone else get to watch a Seth Rogan movie while I have to sit in screaming airplane silence? (I should note that Morrison traded seats with me, because he is the best, and completely fine with the fact that he married a tall Baby. I then, you know. Watched a movie, as was my HUMAN RIGHT.) Obviously these big baby tantrums have nothing to do with money, or mortgage, or transfers, or movies, or air, and completely everything to do with my overall frustration with inability to control our baby quest, despite all of my attempts to do so. Here’s the hard truth I’ve learned, that I am still learning: you can have all of the money and doctors and access in the world, and it still doesn’t mean you will have a baby. Surely, it helps, it gets you closer, and I am so grateful everyday for our ability to throw money at this. But still: there is no guarantee, ever. And oftentimes, there is nothing to do but Wait, to sit with yourself, accept where you are, stew in Trust and Hope and Faith and Patience other words that go on Pillows. My Christmas promise (is this a thing?) to myself is to try, really really try, to accept and enjoy where we are, because objectively, OBJECTIVELY, it’s really not so bad, like perhaps even Great.