I’m in a bad mood. Just plain semi-miserable! Sitting in an idyllic, palm-fringed, olive tree-filled garden in deepest, darkest, southern Morocco. This place should be heaven but the dexamethasone (steroids) that I’m taking (another kitchensinkesque move on the medication front from my clinic to give baby every chance of survival in those crucial first few weeks) is dampening my mood. Not that I’m an easy customer by any means on a normal day. “Dynamic’ I’d call myself, but I’m either a ‘love it’ or hate it’. I’m never anything in between. I hate in between. It’s boring. I have no patience for boring. My husband says I’ll never be happy. Maybe he’s right. Continue Reading