This morning, Morrison and I were discussing our quote unquote ‘family planning,’ ie our attempt slash desire to have a second kid. For me, ‘family planning’ has always been comprised of crying, googling, sending long emails, waiting on Hold, and the methodical release of expectations, over and over again. Now I’m stuck on this painful word, ‘Plan,’ a word that should bring comfort but does not. It’s a floor made made of saran wrap. A family is not a ‘Plan.’ It’s a dream or a wish come true. It’s teeth and sticky floors and coincidence, it’s an answered prayer. There is no Plan, just an exhausted Thank you, More Please.