Hope For the Holidays

I can't believe it's a) nearly Jack's birthday and b) nearly 2011. I started this novel nearly two years ago, and I've spent nearly an entire year trying to get an agent. So far, I don't feel like I'm really closer than I was a year ago. And it's starting to get to me.
I can't think about my book without wanting to cry. I can't read a blog or an agent's Web site or an author interview without breaking down. I think about the book constantly, and it's eating away at me. I'm even crying as I type this.
I know it's stupid, and maybe some day my book will be published and I'll look back at this time and curse myself for being so stupid about the whole thing, but right now, it just sucks. I did get some very helpful advice from a blogger who suggested that I email the two agents I haven't heard from and let them know other agents were looking at my work (apparently I should have done that when they requested pages...whoops!). Both wrote back almost immediately to let me know that they just haven't gotten to my materials yet, which is good news since it means it's not a "no," but it also means that they weren't so excited by what they'd read so far that they wanted to put me at the top of their to-do list. Either way I'm trying to hold out hope for EW, who was one of my first choices anyway. She has had the full for over 3 months now, and I'm just praying she likes what she reads. This last batch of queries has turned out to be a total bust. We're going on 3 weeks and so far I've had 4 rejections and the rest no responses. Maybe it was a bad time of year to query - I don't know. I'm going to try to compile a list of 25 more agents over the holidays and start querying again in February.
I suppose I should be happy that I've made it through Jack's first year without inadvertently killing him or deliberately killing myself or John. I know that I accomplished a few things this year: the marathon, working most of the year, etc. But all I really wanted was to add "got an agent" to that list. And for the life of me I just can't seem to make it happen.
The only thing I want for Christmas this year (and my birthday and every other Christmas and birthday from here to eternity) is to get an agent. Every time my phone rings and it's an unknown number my heart leaps a little. Every single email holds a tiny kernel of hope that maybe, just maybe, someone is at least requesting a partial. And time after time my hopes are dashed. I know I need to stay positive and keep on trucking, but it's getting harder and harder.
There's not much more to say right now. TTFN.