Impatience. It’s an ugly trait that has a somewhat pretty side too.

My entire life, I’ve suffered from an acute case of Chronic Impatientitis. Growing up, I was a very unfortunate combination of being both impatient and a late bloomer. Because of this, there was one thing I heard over and over again from my mom. “Your day will come.”

When every single person in my junior high class got their periods and I was still stuck in scrawny training bra land.

“Your day will come.”

When all my high school friends got boyfriends and I sat home with my dog.

“Your day will come.”

When all of my siblings, even my younger brother, found the loves of their lives and got married and I still couldn’t figure out how to stop dating douchebags.

“Your day will come.”

I didn’t get my period until high school. Didn’t get boobs until, well still waiting on those. Didn’t meet my husband until I was 31. Didn’t marry him until I was 33.

So I’ve learned the hard way that impatience will make you miserable.

Because really, it’s just another way of focusing on what you don’t yet have right now, instead of focusing on what you do (disposable income! The freedom to go poop alone!)

But I think there’s a good side to being impatient. Yes it’s the kind of good side that has to be hit with just the right lighting in the right sort of room with a fresh coat of makeup, maybe after a couple of drinks. But it’s a good side, nonetheless.

It’s made me driven in my career – caused me to pour myself wholeheartedly into every work endeavor, working longer and harder than others. Anxious for the reward and prestige awaiting on the other side.

And it’s getting me closer to solving the actual reasons for my infertility.

Impatience is what has made me unwilling to accept a diagnosis of “Bad Luck.” It’s made me fight with my doctors and demand more tests and read books and scour the internet, where I’ve found fellow impatient people who are also fighting with doctors and demanding more tests and reading books and scouring the internet, unwilling to accept their own diagnoses of “Bad Luck.” Together, it feels like we have more answers than most doctors we’ve met.

And it’s all because of sheer impatience.

So to all you fellow Impatients, I raise a glass. Of red wine, because we can right now so we might as well enjoy it. Yes, “our day will come.” But it will come, not because we were patient or just let it happen naturally. Our day will come solely because we have fought tooth and nail for it.