Taking A Deep Breath

I'm back. The week is over and I can now take a deep breath. But this kind of deep breath is not what I want to write about today. I want to write about the moment when you decide to tell someone about your infertility. The moment you take a deep breath and then tell your story...

 

I'm quite careful about who I tell IRL (in real life - love this blogging abbreviation!) Of course any of my friends reading this blog know, but my other friends, family and work people? Then I have to judge whether it's a good idea to spill the beans. But sometimes you just realize it. You feel it. You know it's one of those moments where you can let the cat out of the bag. 

And so you take a deep breath. And you tell your story. 

Then there's the reaction. And often I find this is the most surprising thing of all. Recently I have confided in people about our infertility, about the pain and the emptiness. And to my surprise they then opened up about their own infertility story. They too had been through the pain, the emptiness and the loss that IF brings. People I had never expected to hear this from. People I had always assumed had chosen to remain childless or to have children later in life. It opened my eyes to the universality of infertility. A tragedy none of us believed would ever happen to us. And yet infertility has been suffered since time immemorial. Sometimes it seems like you are the only one suffering, but the truth is, there is a sisterhood of women out there who are going through the same thing. However IRL we often don't know who they are. They could be our neighbour, a friend of a friend, a co-worker, a woman we pass by on the street. Without talking about it, without being open, how would we know? So most of the time we don't. And many people suffer infertility in silence.

Many people are made to feel ashamed about infertility. Many are made to feel inadequate. There is no getting round it. Society is unforgiving to infertiles, particularly to women. There is little understanding and lots of misunderstandings. And so there is little compassion.  But in my opinion the best way to confront this ignorance is to just be frank.

In fact my husband did this last week. Mr. T went to a family wedding and was asked countless times if I was pregnant and then when we were going to have children. His reponse? I'm shooting blanks (yes these are the words he used exactly). And then he went on to explain, all very matter-of-fact, about his varicoceles and his recent embolization. Their mouths dropped in shock at his honesty and forwardness. I love him for this. He is not embarrassed in the slightest. And why should he be? In fact, he thought it was good for his male contemporaries to see that he was not ashamed and that infertility is not something that makes you less of a man. 

So I resolve to take more deep breaths. Maybe through sharing my infertility experience others might take some small comfort in the knowledge that they are not alone. And so will I.

Still Alive

Just working like a donkey who has an overly heavy load to carry down a never-ending road. 

Which sadly means no time to blog. Or to read my favourite blogs - I feel so out of the loop. Will be back soon!

The Hamster Wheel

This TTC business is very much like being on a never ending hamster wheel. Once again I'm in the two week wait phase. It won't be long before the agonizing over whether to POAS or just wait for AF to arrive. Were those cramps you felt? And then without delay as soon as you've POASed and got your glorious BFN, the unwelcome visitor dutifully arrives and it begins all again... the tears, the resignation and then the realization that ovulation is but a few days away and the TTC fun can begin all over again. Around and around and around....

Can I get off this please?

Not that there's much hope for the end of the wait, but as so many people seem to get pregnant without even trying, you live in hope that you might be one of those lucky bitches, err... I mean fertiles. The problem is that running on this hamster wheel month after month and then the months turning into years is exhausting AND brain-destroying.

No sane rational thinking person would put themselves through this time and time again. So why do I and why do millions of other couples? Because wanting a baby takes over all your mental faculties. Grown men and women spend all their savings, take out loans, ping-pong back and forth from clinics and doctors, and become far too familiar with plastic cups, stirrups, the dildo-cam, injection needles, suppositories and pessaries in the desperate hope to conceive a child. I guess that's just the way we're programed. There's no getting round it. But I do believe this TWW is worse for women. I know it's bad for the fellas too, I know they feel hurt and I know they have particular issues they have to deal with. But women are the ones living the TWW, women are the ones acutely aware of how many days have passed, who decide when to POAS, who feel the cramps, who constantly wonder if every twinge in their belly is a baby implanting in their womb. Of course hubbie is supportive, of course hubbie cares a lot but. He is also able to switch off. He can get on with his life and work without being on the wheel for every stage of the TTC cycle.

And so you run on that hamster wheel sometimes accompanied by your partner and sometimes on your own. But. You're running it. And. There's no getting off for you. Until you either get to jump off with joy or collapse in exhaustion. Let's be honest, it happens. So here I am, hoping, praying that we all get to jump off with joy. Soon.

Fertility Charms

How far would you go to get pregnant? I mean if other medical treatments were not an option for you. This question has been circling my mind ever since my sister bought me a fertility necklace for my birthday. There are three crystals that are supposed to promote fertility: moonstone, carnelian and rose quartz. Needless to say I've been wearing it everyday.

Now usually I don't believe in this stuff... but I have found myself strangely drawn to the necklace. I wear it everyday, putting it on has become part of my routine like brushing my teeth. At this point I think I am searching for anything, anything at all that might hold some power over whether I get pregnant or not. Is this desperation? I think so.

So I started looking into fertility crystals, fertility feng shui and other weird and wonderful fertility charms. And. I found some hilarious stuff. Like this crystal fertility phallus.

Yes ladies. You can proudly display this at home, on a shelf, or let it take pride of place on your mantelpiece. Explain to guests that you're just trying to conceive and this rather well-endowed ornament is ensuring there are good fertility vibes in your house. Then ignore the weird looks and open-mouthed stares.

Or if you prefer you can instead place a brass wind-chime at your front door, clean out all the clutter from under your bed, but (and here's one for those of us who hate housework, and who doesn't?) don't dust. According to the principles of fertility feng shui you should not dust around the bed while trying to conceive as this disturbs the flow of energy. What a great excuse for not cleaning! Excuse the mess, we're trying to conceive...

Then there's the fertility festivals. A while back I read a magazine article about a fertility festival in Bhutan. 

Women who had tried to get pregnant for years attended the festival ceremonies, received blessings from Buddhist monks and later became pregnant. All claimed these experiences were responsible for the change in their previously bad fertility luck. The festival looks incredible and the sheer amount of enormous phalluses can be shocking at times. Bhutan is a very modest society, showing bare skin in public is a big no no and yet at the village of Punakha you will find murals that look more familiar in high school lavatories than on the walls of homes and temples in a Far Eastern village.

Now mark my words internet, if the varicocele embolization, a few more IUIs and the fertility crystals don't work, and I'm still not pregnant this time next year, I'm booking two tickets to Bhutan. And perhaps that crystal penis may end up on our shelf after all.

A B C

Simple as 1-2-3, or simple as Do-Re-Mi, 

A B C, 1-2-3, just you and me

A B C, simple as 1-2-3, or simple as Do-Re-Mi

Not at all like in-fer-til-ity!

Welcome! Welcome! Especially to everyone from ICLW! In honour of ICLW, here is my big bowl of soggy Alphabits cereal:

A: A passport, which I now have! Apparently I qualified for the express service, I didn't even have to mention my impending ovulation.

B: Boo for infertility! 

C: Chocolate - helps cure IF blues, it should be prescribed. 

D: Don't ask me if I'm pregnant yet.

E: Embolization - hubbie has just had one to block a varicocele.

F: Flying on Thursday, back home!!

G: Goodness gracious great balls of not enough fast-moving sperm.

H: Hong Kong, where I grew up

I: Ice-cream - I love making weird and wonderful flavours. I recently made saffron ice-cream which is delicious served with melted dark chocolate.

J: Jelly, of the KY persuasion. Had enough of that at the Dr's office. (Maybe I shouldn't mix food and reproduction talk? Hope no one feels queasy.)

K: Kite-surfing, I wish I could do it and am seriously thinking I should make an effort to at least try it.

L: Lurrrve - what would life be without it?

M: My Man, that would be a certain Mr. T

N: Not Pregnant - how sick am I of seeing those words? Would the 'not' kindly drop off and die in a corner?

O: Ovulation in a few days. The cycle of hope and disappointment begins again. Exhausting? Y-E-S.

P: Pitter-Patter, oh for the sound. The longing for the sound of tiny feet.

Q: Quince - love it cooked with cinnamon. Yum.

R: Real life - how many IFers do I know? Hmmm very very few. How many people do I know who are expecting or have just become mamas? Somedays it seems like E.V.E.R.Y.O.N.E

S: Sixteen months of TTC.

T: Time. Tick-tock-tick-tock. 

U: Ugh. How I feel when I think of the above.

V: Varicocele - we gotcha!

W: Waiting.

X: Xena the Princess Warrior - how I wish I could kick ass when people ask insensitive baby questions or give stupid ass.vice.

Y: My thoughts exactly.

Z: Zut alors! I've finished my bowl of cereal.

I did it.

I found something to do. To consume my time. I lost my passport. Or rather it was stolen. Out my bag on my flight back from the Scottish wedding.

Now I have so much to do I can't even stop. (Hence my lack of blogging.) Yesterday I had to drive 7 hours straight to get some paperwork I needed, thinking this was the 21st century? Well you thought wrong. It's still old-handwritten paper documents and no photocopies will do, only originals. I have to fill in forms, take photos and beg and plead for a new passport ASAP. 

It was so sad saying goodbye to Mr.T as he went off back home. There I was staying behind when I should have been going with him. I'm desperate to get back. Back to work. Back to him. I'm ovulating in a few days (eek!) and was wondering if I could use that as my reason for being issued an emergency passport? Think the passport official sitting behind the desk will take pity on an IFer desperate not to miss a round of TTC, however small the likelihood of success? Yeah me neither. They're not exactly known for their compassion. But... who knows? Wish me luck!!

**** Sorry for the crappy post but just gotta run out the door, will comment soon for ICLW! Can't believe it's here again, where did July go?? ****

How to pass the time?

So I added a healthy sperm countdown ticker. It seems that so many people have pregnancy tickers now and I was beginning to feel a little left out. But I am hopeful that it will one day become the much-envied pregnancy ticker. A little bean floating around in the corner of my computer screen, Mr.T & Clare's baby. So much hope, so much longing, I don't even know where to begin explaining how much. I look at those seventy plus days and those nearly two thousand hours and sigh. Everything IF is about waiting. You'd think I'd be used to it by now, but I'm not.

And I'm feeling particularly maternal right now, achingly so. Very very broody. 

Usually I don't burst into tears at the sight of babies or pictures of babies but recently. I do. Perhaps I need to do something to counteract these maternal urges. 

Perhaps I should go out clubbing until the wee hours of the morning. Party like a mad hatter.

 

Or go on a fun-filled, throwing caution to the wind road trip - off to the desert, or the ocean.

Or take up an exciting and dangerous new sport... kite-surfing, rock climbing, abseiling. 

 

Anything that makes me think of motherhood less. Any suggestions?

Mission Embolization Accomplished!

I have been off the grid for a wee while (sorry, we were at a wedding in Scotland over the weekend and now can't stop doing the accent). It's all just happened so fast. We had scheduled Mr. T in for his varicocele embolization in August, which we already thought was pretty fast, and then the surgeon informed us he could actually do it this Wednesday as in TODAY. We found this out just before attending the wedding this weekend, and so we have been frantically running around re-arranging flights, work and dealing with our insurance company. 72 hours before Mr.T's scheduled op they denied our pre-authorization request. I battled with them on the phone, sent them a load of paperwork and got the specialist to send a letter too. Then 48 hours before the procedure we got the call, they were going to cover our claim! Woo hoo! Has anyone EVER got an insurance company to change their mind???? I feel like superwoman!

So yesterday we drove four hours and slept in a cheap hotel to get ready for Mr. T's eight am appointment the next day. All this for a little itty bitty varicocele. But this little itty bitty varicocele could hold the key to our infertility. Emphasis on the COULD. And who of us wouldn't drive to the ends of the earth, let alone for four hours, to find that out?

The hospital staff were wonderful and treated us with such care and understanding. The surgeon, who is not really a surgeon, but an interventional radiologist - I think that's the correct title - made it clear to us that there is no firm evidence yet to show that varicoceles are a cause of MFI and that there were no guarantees with this procedure. We understand and accept this. Hey, IF will show you that nothing in this life is guaranteed and that no medical procedure is either. But. The theory makes sense. There is a logic: Pool of blood around the testicle caused by a varicocele equals too much heat which equals f@*ked up sperm. Love my medical terminology?

After Mr. T's initial work-up and a kiss good luck from yours truly, they took him down to the theatre (btw he deserves a round of applause because for the first time since I've known him his blood pressure was normal. This is a major achievement, all his lifestyle changes and hard work have done that). An hour later he was wheeled back in. That was quick I said. The assistant nurse replied, no really it wasn't. What happened? I suddenly thought that Mr. T might be one of the 1 in 200 people who can't have embolization, did something go wrong? No, she said, it all went well, your husband just has a weird anatomical structure, what we call anatomically variant, which meant we had to do a little detour. 

Let me explain. When they do a varicocele embolization they make a small cut in the groin and then insert a dye and a catheter. The catheter follows the vein up toward the kidney and then down toward the testicle. When the catheter is at the right point, several metallic coils are put in place to block the vein and stop the varicocele.

However Mr. T's vein was not in the normal place. It took the doctor a while to find it. He said that Mr. T was very odd (I had accepted this a long time ago). In normal people the vein runs in front of the kidney but with Mr.T it runs behind the kidney and does a weird loop thing. Anyway they eventually found it and the coils went in without a problem. He did have a slight reaction to the dye they use to map the veins. He started itching and sneezing like mad and was sure he was going to vomit - this happens to some people, but in the end he came back to me in one piece. And with one varicocele successfully embolized.

Now it is a waiting game. It takes 74 days for sperm to be made. Therefore we have to wait a minimum of two and half months before we MAY see any improvement but six months is the usual wait for real improvement to be seen. Right now I'm too exhausted to think about this and how I feel. All I can say is PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE let this be the final hurdle, let this finally be it!

All or Nothing

This is my problem with the TTC game. There is no in between, there is no second place. You either win or your lose. And well, I've never been very good at winning. Coming second yes, runner-up maybe, an also-ran or an honourable mention perhaps, but never a first place trophy. And this is what upsets me so much about TTC. You're either pregnant or you're not. You can't be just a little bit pregnant, or slightly pregnant or close to pregnant. In short, in this game it is all or nothing.

There is no glass (should that be uterus?) half-empty or half-full scenario here. It is either joyfully full or woefully empty.

But getting nothing every time you give it your best effort is frustrating. Disheartening. Demoralizing. I feel like I should at least get a commendation rosette or a certificate that acknowledges my taking part. But not in this TTC game. The best we get is some painful cramps and the arrival of AF. Which is the same as every other woman on this planet who has not even entered the race. Shouldn't we get some special recognition that we tried, that we took part even if we didn't reach the TWW finish line with two little pink lines of our own to show for it?

Well I certainly think so. And I think it should appear on special TTC pee sticks. If you get a BFP it should read Congratulations! Finally! It happened! But if you get a BFN it should read Don't Despair! Keep Trying! But go and have a good cry if you need to. Well that would probably be too many words to fit into the little crystal display window.

No Joy

I POASed. Twice. It was Big and Fat and Negative. Which is actually a lot like I feel - after my gluttonous trip to Paris, and then seeing the test results and getting AF cramps.

What do I say? What do I feel? Numb. No words. Just lots of tears. And anger. And frustration. Another month. Another cycle. Down the drain. This time was meant to be better. This was IUI, our next step up the ladder. We know the sperm got into my uterus. How much of a head start do these lazy sperms need for goodness sake? Why does everyone else's sperm seem to have no problem finding the egg? We've heard so many pregnancy announcements this last month you'd think conceiving was the easiest thing in the world, like putting your socks on. Well, we apparently can't put socks on.

After I got the BFN this morning I took a long walk by myself. We're staying at my parents' place which is way out in the country. Not a soul around. I took the dog and together we walked through the fields of long summer grass and golden wheat. There I could be free and I cried my heart out. A dog is a perfect companion when you need to wallow in self-pity. They don't judge. They don't feel uncomfortable or guilty. They are just there. Plus I could lay down with my head on his lovely soft fur and be reassured by his calming presence. I watched the butterflies, the dragonflies and the plants around me - everything seeding, everything reproducing. I longed to be part of that phase of nature, to play my part in Mother Nature's grand cycle of life. Yes sometimes I get jealous of bugs, plants, the birds and the bees and the ease with which they procreate. We TTC ladies get a little crazy down this IF road and this definitely has got to be the weirdest thing I have so far admitted. Please don't judge me.

The lucky bitch will probably get pregnant after this.

And now I have so many questions. I want to know what went wrong exactly. I was convinced Dr.B did the insemination too late, it was over 43 hours after my injection. Was it too late? Isn't it better for the sperm to be waiting in the fallopian tube before the egg is released, than to arrive after? Was it the stress of that day, with all the BS that happened? (See IUI Drama part 1 if you want the backstory on that nightmare of a day.) Did we not have enough fast swimmers? Should I have relaxed more during the TWW? Or was everything perfect, it was just that it didn't happen, things didn't meet up, it was just not meant to be? I know I could drive myself crazy with these questions. Questions I will never have the answers to.

I realize I had set myself up for a fall with this IUI. I had believed too much. Hoped too much... in truth I had been too positive about it. Now you may think that's a stupid thing to say. To have too much hope. To be too positive. But not when it comes to IF. The probability of getting pregnant is just too damn low - in my opinion you're better off thinking it ain't gonna happen, rather than convincing yourself it will. Better to be surprised than to be disappointed I'm sure.

This was not IVF or ICSI. This was "just" an IUI. Just one injection, a catheter insertion and some mild discomfort, and then a round of progesterone pessaries. A veritable walk in the park for many. But it still hurts to have gone through that discomfort, the hormones and the indignity of our experience, for nothing. I can only imagine how a failed IVF cycle must feel. This is only a tiny fraction of what that must be like and I am truly sorry for the frustration and heartache for anyone who has experienced that, and I know many who are reading this have.

Today I am grateful for the arms that comforted me. For the soft fur of my faithful friend. And the kind and soothing words of those around me. Today it is my birthday. My 29th year. Which makes this all the more painful. All the more poignant. All the more difficult. And today my mother told me that she cannot relate to what I am going through. She got pregnant with me without a problem, and I am glad she did, for I wouldn't wish this heartache on anyone. But she held me, she told me she was sorry and that she wished she could take away my pain. And I wish she could too.

A HypnoBirthing story with Dr. Wonderful

This HypnoBirthing story is from one of my class members that took classes in April 2009. They had Dr. Wonderful (otherwise known as Dr. Biter) as their OB.

Hi Carol,
At last a few free moments to share our baby's birth story with you!

We had an amazing birth from start to finish. In my 38th week of pregnancy, I'd started to feel some practice labor surges in the evening. They would last a couple hours and then stop as I drifted to sleep. This gave me an indication that labor might be nearing.

At around 12am on June 10th, they started again. I tried to sleep through these like the last ones but found myself having change positions and get in and out of bed to manage my way through them. I was so intent on making it to 40 weeks of pregnancy (only 39 weeks at this point) that I couldn't believe this was really the real thing. Pregnancy had been so much fun that I didn't want it to end any sooner than it had to. So after about 2 hours of breathing my way through these surges, I finally woke up Nathan. He started timing them and we saw that we had a pretty consistent pattern of surges every three minutes and lasting thirty seconds long. I was puttering around our apartment in the wee hours of the morning telling Nathan, "There is NO WAY I'm having this baby tonight!". He just smiled and kept timing them. Pretty soon they were lasting 45 seconds and then were over a minute long. I was breathing my way through each surge, leaning on Nathan for physical support, and visualizing my cervix opening.

At about 5 am, the on-call doctor (Dr. Capetanakies) told us it was time to come to hospital. Well, he'd suggested that we come in sooner than that but I was hesitant because our plan was to labor at home for as long as possible. After only 5 hours of labor, I surely couldn't be very dilated. My fear was that I'd only be 2 cm dilated and then would have to drive home. We arrived at the hospital and got situated in our L&D room. A nurse did a dilation check and said, "8 cm, membranes bulging!". I could hardly believe what I'd heard. The other hospital staff turned their heads quickly. "This is your first baby?" "You walked yourself to this room at 8 cm?" After that, they got moving pretty quickly and started bringing in a bassinet and other items for the baby. We labored through some stronger surges for 3 more hours.

I didn't have an IV or other medications so I was able to move around exactly how I needed to. I spent a lot of time rocking through surges on the birth ball, walking in circles, or leaning on Nathan. Nathan made sure I stayed hydrated and reminded me to drink the Gatorade we'd brought. He also read me the flash cards that we'd made together that had inspiring excerpts from other birth stories, comforting Bible verses, and other positive messages. The flash cards were really helpful because they reminded me why a natural birth was so important to us in the first place, and helped me to not get overwhelmed with the intensity of labor.

Around 8 am, I started to feel some downward pressure. I gave in at the end of it and let myself do a small push. That was pretty intense. I told Nathan what I was feeling and he immediately paged the nurse. I leaned on the bed and had another surge. This time I heard an audible burst and felt water running down. Dr. Biter and the nurse were in the room asking me which position I wanted to be into deliver. I had no idea. They asked me to get on the bed and I hobbled onto it on all fours. It wasn't the most comfortable position to be in, but it was the fastest way to complete that request. Dr. Biter asked me to give a few pushes. The surges had tapered off now that I was fully dilated. It was so nice to get a break from them. I wanted to just put my head on the pillow and go to sleep. But I pushed a little bit. Dr. Biter asked if I wanted to flip around and try some on my back in a half sitting position. I was glad for his direction because I had no inclination of what was a better position to be in.

After about 20 minutes of pushing, I heard Nathan say "Oh wow!". The baby's head was out and its size surprised him. Then Dr. Biter asked me to look down and come get my baby. The baby was out of me as far as the waist. This was such a surreal moment. There was a baby half way in, half way out of my body. I reached down and grasped its shoulders and lifted it out the rest of the way and onto my tummy. All I could say was, "Oh my gosh! It's a lil person!" over and over again. Nathan and I both stared just amazed at our baby and all that had happened. I was so relieved. We'd done it together without medication or intervention.

After a few minutes, Dr. Biter said, "Hey let's find out if we have a boy or girl!" We looked beneath the blanket and discovered we'd had a perfect baby girl. The name we'd picked out if we had a girl suited her just right, Helena Abigail. She was born at 8:33 am, weighed 7 lbs 15 ounces, and measured 20 inches long. And no perineal tears for momma (yay!). We're so blessed to have her as well as the care we received from Dr. Biter and his team. Her birth was more incredible than we ever expected. And now we have a little girl we just can't stop kissing from head to toe.

Thank you so much for being a part of our pregnancy journey. I hope many more mothers and fathers will consider birthing their little ones naturally. It was just beyond wonderful for us.

Many thanks, Kelly F

Thanks for sharing your birth story, Kelly! Congratulations & enjoy your babymoon!

www.AWellLivedLife.Net
www.AWellLivedLife.blogspot.com

We'll Always Have Paris

The trip to Paris was over. And so nearly her Two Week Wait as well. It was getting to that time. To POAS or not to POAS? She decided to delay the moment of truth and relive that week, that week in what some say is the most romantic city in the world... 

She had finally seen the Sacre Coeur.

And the Notre Dame Cathedral (no hunchback though)...

She had lost herself in an exhibition at the Institut du Monde Arabe.

 

An installation about forgotten refugees and lost childhoods that moved her. 

You see inside each balloon was a photo. A photo of a child. A refugee. A stolen childhood.

It was a moment to reflect on things bigger than herself. Bigger and deeper than her woes.

She had perused the shelves of the Shakespeare & Co bookstore. 

She read a few pages in a dusty armchair. And wondered about Hemingway, James Joyce, F. Scott Fitzgerald and Ezra Pound who had all been there before her.

She devoured a wild strawberry ice-cream from the Maison Berthillon. 

It tasted just like the strawberries she used to find in her grandmother's garden.

She soaked in the Parisian evenings. Walking down wisteria lined cobble-stoned avenues.

It had been a wonderful week. Full of culture, beauty and fabulous food. But now. She returned to reality. Back to IF reality. The moment of truth is approaching. I look at my husband. Whatever the outcome. We'll always have Paris.

My Blog Archive Problem & A Sweet Deal

Okay I have never done this before. But the lack of helpful responses from blogger for over a week since I started posting questions about my problem is driving me crazy! So I turn to you IF blogosphere, for I am sure you are all far more blog-savvy than me, for help.

See my blog archive on the right? Well it used to list the months and then the number of posts for that particular month in brackets. AND for the current month the title of the posts would appear too. Now as you can see it just lists this year with only 46 posts. Well BLOG ARCHIVE there are actually 49! If my dashboard can get it right and these posts are actually posted here in front of your very eyes, why can't you? Why did you change on me over night? Ever since July began you've changed. I no longer recognize you. Why? What happened to you blog archive?

You see I have tried everything to change you back to your original layout. I checked my settings and they were exactly as before. So. I changed them. And then I changed them back to what they were to see if it would have an effect. No, it did not. You remain 2009 (46). This is just wrong Blog Archive. I demand you revert to your former self! I demand you do as your settings command you!

In my quest to get to the bottom of your strange behaviour, I have searched high and low. And indeed I did find something that spoke of this same inexplicable occurrence. I found it in the Known Issues section of blogger help BUT (and here is the twist in the tale) this KNOWN ISSUE was apparently fixed in 2007!!!!  Mysterious? Spooky? No. Just plain IRRITATING!!!

So if any of you out there have any suggestions, solutions or alternatives PLEASE contribute below. And just to sweeten the deal - if anyone can actually solve this, I will send you a box of Parisian treats (that travel well and have a low risk of squishing or curdling) as a token of my appreciation.

Sore Feet

It was her first time in Paris. So she bought a guidebook. And her camera.

She wanted to do it all. She wanted to see everything. She wanted to eat every delicious morsel of French food she could. First she wanted to see the Eiffel Tower.

Then it was off to the Arc De Triomphe. She even went to the top. And courtesy of her pregnant travel mate, she didn't have to walk up the 346 stairs or so. She got to travel up the arc de triomphe in non-perspiring style, par ascenseur. Yes, she thought the world is full of small blessings.

She wanted to walk down the Champs Elysees. She wondered if she could afford to buy anything at the glittering shops lining the boulevard? The short answer was no. But she was an experienced window-shopper and she took in all there was to see.

She wanted to see the Louvre. She wanted to see the Mona Lisa. She wanted to see all the Masters. From Da Vinci to Titian to Delacroix to Caravaggio and more...

She perused the Egyptian antiquities and on to the other worlds of Etrusca, Greece, Rome, Byzantium and Assyria. It was endless.

She wanted to linger in a Parisian bookshop. She pretended to be intellectual and literary. But she just bought two cookbooks. Her darling husband seemed to be pleased with these purchases.

She wanted to add to her wardrobe. A few choice items from Paris might be just what she needed. A whirlwind trip to Galerie Lafayette was undertaken. Exhausted husband with the patience of a saint in tow. She looked and she looked. She found! Oh two beautiful dresses. And in the sale! Each with 40% off! She was VERY pleased. Mission fashionista had been accomplished. 

She had wanted to visit the Sacre-Coeur, Notre Dame, the Sorbonne, the Institut du Monde Arabe, the Shakespeare & Co bookstore.. oh and not forgetting the Maison Berthillon which she had heard had the best ice-cream in Paris. So much she wanted to see, to do, to taste. But alas, there was only so much her feet could accomplish in a day. She would need to pace herself.