November wasn’t the month I was supposed to get preg, apparently, which is sad, because I really wanted it to be. (My luteal phase–if I read my chart correctly–was 22 days long, which feels strange and dangerous, like something’s not quite right in there. But perhaps I worry for nothing.) But I have to keep remembering my friend M’s letter to me, in which she wrote about the 12 months she & her husband tried to conceive, how much she had to learn, and how full of grace and patience the whole letter is (and I am, when I read it). I make mental notes to myself in the mornings, sometimes, about how I have to respect & honor my body today, be patient with it, and let my life be what it wants to be.

Another friend, a lovely Japanese vocal performance major I became friends with in college, but lost touch with after she returned to Japan, recently sent me a fb friend request. After a flurry of excited what’s happened in your life in the past seven years??? I found out that she has a beautiful ridiculously gorgeous baby, and that she & her husband had tried for three years before she conceived. She said, of her daughter, “She knew we weren’t ready.” It struck me. I’m still resonating. She’d written about huge difficulties and griefs that had happened in her husband’s family (and bled deep into her & husband’s life) during those first two years of their marriage, and how their relationship needed so much maturing in those early days.  It made me think about Marshall and myself, how we’re not even a year past his diagnosis, yet, …..

… and it feels so much better, so much more loving and generous and full of grace, to say “She knows we aren’t ready” instead of “I guess there’s something wrong with me.” So I’ll keep that.

But this does mean that I’m gonna take December off, and have lots of caffeine and wine and have sex whenever we want. I got a bottle of Rioja last night, as a matter of fact, and am considering popping the top as soon as I’m done here. Pouring a cup, lying on the couch with pillow & quilt, reading (the obdurately long!) Pickwick Papers, looking at the glimmering cheery Christmas tree every ten minutes or so. Possibly having some cheese laced with jerk seasoning that I bought during a cheese craving last week. Ok I’m definitely doing that.

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