Give a girl the right pair of shoes . . . And she can conquer the world!

Just a quick post today to update you all and thank you from the bottom of my heart for all your kind messages, thoughts, love and support over this past week or so. <3

I'm shattered right now, totally drained, so I'm gonna keep this short 'n; sweet :-)

Firstly we are absolutely delighted to let you all know that this afternoons scan revealed a very happy and healthy bubba in our oven!

Bambino numero three is totally PERFECT!

With 8 fingers (2 thumbs!) and 10 toes and a precious little face very much like Leo's! And we are completely over-the-moon!

It is with a big sigh of relief and a dopey grin that I can now relax and begin to truly enjoy this, my third (and final!! lol) pregnancy and I'm going to cherish *every second. (*As much as a pregnant woman can! lol)

Finally I just wanted to say once again how grateful I am to be surrounded by so many amazing people. I was so overwhelmed by the lovely messages we've received from so many people and at the risk of sounding like a tree-hugger, I truly believe that all those thoughts and prayers helped to ensure the fate of our new addition! 

I'm definitely gonna be counting my blessings tonight and promise to count you guys twice! ;-)

Thanks again,

Love to all

Steph x

P.S Don't forget to check out my Pregnancy project and join the panel if you can!!

Everyone who knows me knows I can be very sentimental. (N.B Sentimental not Slightly Mental, though the latter is quite appropriate at the moment.) I always have been and I imagine I always will be.




Tokens of my past, old gig tickets, photographs, christmas cards and newspapers from decades ago lay standing the test of time in boxes and boxes that I've accumulated over the years. Anything that reminds me of something, anything that means anything at all to me, is preserved never to be thrown away.




Actually I could probably start charging people to visit the museum that is my loft come to think of it.




The thing is I don't just hoard the objects that produce fond memories, I keep the sad stuff too, the sort of stuff that I can barely look at without getting choked. And every now and then, when I feel like delving into the depths of my past, I'll lose myself in the boxes, ransacking for hours and drowning in the pieces of puzzles of days gone by.




Today was one of those days. And as I type this, rather impromptu blog post, I am surrounded by the evidence of my latest brush with the past.




I'm sure most of you know that this week has been a bit pants for our crew because I had a routine appointment with my obstetrician and he gave us a little news that has thrown me off balance a bit. (A bit?! Ha, what an understatement.)




I'll try to keep this *brief, it's a bit technical and a little brain-numbing, but here goes.




(*Steph's definition of the word 'brief' may or may not be the same as that of a standard Oxford English dictionary.)




As you know I am currently 15 weeks (plus 4 days) pregnant with bambino numero three. Except this is not my third pregnancy. It's actually my sixth.




(Now I know what you're thinking . . . and we do indeed have a telly in our house. And hobbies too. It's just that it seems my husband needs only to look in my direction and I'm pregnant again! It's quite spectacular really! Lol But that's enough of that!) ;-)




One of the most tragic situations we have faced in our relationship is having our son, Harrison, diagnosed with a variety of fetal abnormalities whilst he was still in the womb, back in 2008.




I was 16 weeks pregnant with Harry when we first learnt that something was wrong. I'd had a triple bloods test taken and the results returned stated I had a high level of HCG in my blood. They called me in for a scan within a matter of days and Mr. C and I were informed immediately that our little man had a number of problems with his little body.




He had a gastroschisis for starters (which is when the intestines are floating around on the outside of the abdominal wall) – it's not uncommon and can usually be sorted with a quick op after birth, so it didn't worry us on it's own a great deal.




We heard he had 'rocker-bottomed' feet, meaning his soles were convex as opposed to concave and this could cause great difficulty in his future, with walking etc. Harry also suffered from hyperflexed wrists and arms.




We had numerous appointments, we visited 3 different hospitals over a period of 4 weeks. And finally at week 19 we learnt that Harrison had part of his bladder missing. A meeting with a top surgeon operating in Great Ormond Street Hospital confirmed our worse fears, that our son's problems couldn't be fixed and he would face a life time of suffering.




At 20 weeks I went into labour and gave birth to Harrison Connolly on August 4th 2008. But he was already living with the angels by the time I got to see his little body.




I can't express how heartbreaking the experience was, but I cannot forget the pain even for a second.




Harry's funeral took place a few weeks later, and the results from the autopsy were never shared with us, his parents. So we didn't really know what had caused his problems.




My husband and I had our DNA tested and the Genetics department informed us that we wouldn't have the results of the DNA and genetics tests for some time.




A mere six weeks later we discovered that I was once again expecting. And this time I was absolutely petrified.




I visited a special consultant early on in the pregnancy and had a number of ultrasound scans. They took good care of me and put my mind at ease and my pregnancy progressed smoothly.




Until I went, alone, to a meeting with a specialist from Peterborough one afternoon, and not understanding the nature of the meeting, was totally unprepared for what I heard.




'Otopalatodigital Syndrome Type 2' was what the genetics doctor suspected Harry had suffered from. A genetics disorder that is considered to be 'incompatible with life.' It affects one in four pregnancies and is more common in boys.




She shook her head and tutted when I informed her that I was currently expecting. She made me feel like an utter fool.




And so I broke down outside of the hospital, clutching my bump and wailing like a wally. Because my dreams of having a healthy baby boy had been shattered.




Until at 17 weeks I received a letter from the genetics bitch (oops 'consultant') which stated that Harrison did not suffer from OPD2 or any other kind of disorder. All of his abnormalities were isolated, none had anything to do with the other, it said. So what had happened to Harry was just bad luck. Devestating, but bad luck and there was every chance on earth that the baby I was carrying would turn out to be absolutely fine.




And at 20 weeks we went for our scan. No gastroschisis, No rocker-bottom feet, wrists were perfect, bladder intact and the cherry on the cake? Our gorgeous healthy baby was another little man. Still makes me laugh when I remember how Jay and I clung to each other, grins like soppy teenagers, squealing with excitement, joy and, above all, relief in the hospital waiting room.




Leonardo Harrison Connolly, (Leo) was born happy and healthy on 19th June 2009. He is our little cherub and the perfect addition to our little family.




And you know what? I am possibly the most grateful girl on the planet these days. I count my blessings every night before I go to sleep and boy are there a lot to count. I know how lucky I am, sometimes I feel like the wealthiest woman in the world.




So it hurts me even more when something comes along to knock the wind from my sails. And that is exactly how I felt when I went for my routine appointment with the Obstetrician on Monday.




You see they had a letter from the genetics bitch too. Only their letter did not say all was fine. Instead it said they suspected my son did indeed suffer a genetic problem. Something to do with the X chromosome from what I could read, (upside down.)




My OB, one of the kindest men I've ever met, assured me he would ask his secretary to gain clarification from the genetics bitch. He said he'd get to the bottom of the matter and find out the truth for us.




I told him that if I had received the letter as I should have, I may have thought twice about conceiving once again.




Mr. Ob then referred me to the ultrasound department, he told me that, given the fact that I am at the stage of pregnancy when Harrison's problems were detected, a scan would be just what we need right now for reassurance. So off I went to the ultrasound department.




'It's very unlikely we can give you a scan,' says the pig behind the desk without looking up from her screen, 'it's not our procedure to deal with things like . . . this.' She tells me. 'things like this,' I take to mean, situations such as mine, though she may as well have just addressed my situation as some kind of freak-show in a circus.




'I'll have to talk to my supervisor. We'll call you.'




I told her I'd wait. That I would rather know now whether I would have an appointment soon. She rolled her eyes to heaven and continued, 'we don't normally do scans at 16 weeks so if my supervisor says no you'll just have to wait til you're 20 weeks to be scanned.'




I managed to hold back from flying over the desk and flooring the bitch, though I could feel hot tears threatening to spill.




'Do you know my situation?!' I asked her, she shook her head. 'Didn't think so, I'd hope you'd have a little more sensitivity if you did.'




Eventually the supervisor appeared and much like her colleague began speaking in a tone that suggested she A. Could not be bothered with me and B. had already decided she was going to be difficult.




'Right. We can't check for abnormalities til 20 weeks.' she says, (true in most circumstances perhaps, but my experience shows that it is possible to detect problems earlier than that.) 'It just isn't possible. So we're going to give you a very brief scan. Only 15 minutes, and no more.' She glares at me as though I'm a whingy woman who just wants to view her baby for no real reason other than to see how cute it is.




'Really it won't give you any reassurance at all so it's hardly worth us doing it.'




Not worth doing?! Well it might not have been for her, but it sure as hell was for me. So I stood firm and told her I'd go along with that.




And then with my scan safely booked on their screens I asked,

'Will either of you be performing the scan?'




'No . . . ' Replied the first pig.




'Thank fuck for that.' I spat, unable to help myself.




And so I left with a heavy heart and a head full of muddled thoughts. Thoughts of the past, fears for the future.




I have decided, thanks to advice and support from so many wonderful friends and family, that I shall go to my scan next Wednesday and I will be as nice as pie to the sonographer, then I shall lay in protest until I feel that my unborn bubba has been examined thoroughly and adequately. Just let them try to move me. ;-)




Despite the tears and worry that I have suddenly found weighing me down I am going to continue to count my blessings and remain positive.




And inspired by my thoughts, ( that and a copy of the wedding slide-show that I found during today's ransack) I'd like to present you with this, extremely soppy, sequel to the first movie :-)




Whatever we have to face we're doing it together and for that I shall always be grateful!




With Love From (a very hormonal and emotional)

Stephie x x x

I remember time ago our tale had just begun
With a union of two hearts, soon to beat as one. 
When Cupid struck and took aim to fire
Upon a Girl and Fella,
And pupils locked and hands entwined
Around a pint of Stella.

That moment there, their first to share, of many more to come.
With some containing sorrow :-(
But most filled with fun! :-)

Foundations were laid,
A family made
And a vow to love for life.

When the Fella got down on one knee and the girl became his wife.

Sweet and Tender ~ Bound forever
Wrapped in a love like no other.
In June last year they were blessed, with the gift of Lorelei’s brother!

And the Connolly crew simply grew and grew
With the addition of Ducks, Dog and Cat/
And the Mrs asked for a pig. But the answer was, ‘No and that’s that!’

Light and laughter fills the air of a home generating such love to share.
Indeed enough for the family of four.
In fact enough for even one more . . . ;-)

The pitter-patter of tiny feet could be heard when New Year is near.

For just after Santa comes, a new Connolly shall be here.

A beautiful baby with all it’s charms welcomed into our hearts with open arms.

And we are overjoyed! With a gift as great as this whether it be girl or boy!

 

*The Pregnancy Project* 
As you know, I'm on a mission at the moment to capture the truth, the whole truth and nothin' but the truth on the subjects of pregnancy, labour and beyond. And no-one knows the journey quite like you, my fellow Mumma's and Mumma's to be. I've built a little forum, a place in cyberspace for you lovely ladies to lay down the law, share your suggestions, ideas and opinions and let me know what subjects you'd like to see included in the book. Please visit if you have a mo!

(Yep, still writing novel too in case you were wondering! Am tying to multi-task! Haha!)

Hope you are all well!

With Love

Steph x

The human bitch. She exists in so many forms. The fat bitch. The skinny bitch. The lying bitch. The man-stealing bitch. The bitch at school. The bitch at work. The bitch you no longer talk to, and yes, let’s face it, the bitch you occasionally glimpse in the mirror.  

Yep. Everyone knows a bitch. And I’m no exception.

My bitch is a cruel, conniving, bitter, twisted, jealous, unpleasant and considerably ugly bitch. And thus far, she is also without a name.

Which is where you come in. :-)

Please help me name my bitch.

My new novel is practically writing itself at such a furious pace that my (in-need-of-manicure) fingernails and general typing skills are struggling to keep up. Seriously I’ve spent so long here at my desk, tapping away with lightening speed, that the ’N’ and ’O’ keys on my keyboard appear to have got the hump and buggered off, leaving me with millions of misspelt words highlighted with squiggly red lines littering my screen. Highly annoying.

Alas I am so excited about my new book. The roots are firmly in place, the characters have come alive and I’m busying myself with paving their routes to happiness. Or at least I would be. If I hadn’t spent the best part of the last 48 hours trying to find a name for my bitch.

Can you name her? (She is a she by the way, though I am fully aware that bitches come in both genders.)

Is there a name you can think of that might be suitable for my bitch? Something really erm, ‘bitchy’?

You don’t need to provide a reason for why you consider the name to be suitable, though I’d gladly welcome any stories that might accompany your suggestion. :-) (It wouldn’t be right to name a bitch without having a little bitch about the bitch that might have inspired your bitches name in the first place now would it?!)

Please suggest some. And we’ll vote on the best!

Love to all

Steph x

 

My *ahem* 'Music Video'
*Not to be taken too seriously :-)
x x x

We may be a small country, but we're a great one, too  . . . We’re the country of Shakespeare, Churchill, the Beatles, Harry Potter. David Beckham's right foot. David Beckham's left foot . . .’ - Love Actually 2003

  Happy St George’s Day everyone :-)

Tis a beautiful day in Steph’s world. The sky, a cloud-less powder blue blanket, the sun bright and strong.  The garden alive with luscious greenery and baby buds awakening for the first time with spring.

The air smells fresh, clear, as though just one big gulp of oxygen would be enough to rejuvenate one entirely. The birds sing, the flag flaps in the breeze. And I can’t help but think, man I love it here.

There really is no place like home and this country, steeped in history, for which our ancestors fought and defended, will always be home to me.

Of course there is a lot that needs to be updated or changed entirely. (Not much we can do about the weather though, eh?! Lol)

Yet today, in order to demonstrate my immense pride and adoration for this tiny little land with big, big influences I’m going to be putting politics aside and focusing on all things positive. <3

So allow me to present you with this, my very own A-Z on all things to love about ENGLAND :-)

A-
*Accents. From the toffee-nosed, stiff-upper-lip, ‘BBC broadcaster’s’ voice to the sing-song Geordie accent. The ‘Combine Harvester’ country-bump-kin to the ‘Calm, down, calm down’ Liverpudlian sound. I love them all!


B–
*Bowler hats
*British Bull Dog
*Bacon (none quite as tasty as the English piggy) -
*The British Army. (I know, I know, 'British' not 'English' but I’m also highly proud of our United Kingdom and the Army definitely deserves to be here.) - Thoughts of our Army, past and present hero’s, those that lay their lives down everyday. As I said, I’m leaving the politics to the politicians (after all they need something, other than shopping, to do!) - but as an English citizen I am immensely proud of our Army.


C–
*Cream Tea’s. Mmmmmmm. ‘nuff said.
*Cadbury’s Chocolate. Just try to find better. I dare you.


D-
*Dandelions. Legend amongst the kids at school had it that these, cheerful weeds would make you wet the bed if picked. Yet when the season changed and the dandelion became the bearer of hundreds of fluffy white seedlings, they became quite magical. (We used to pick them, blow the seedlings, count how many breaths it took to clear the entire flower and then conclude that that number determined the time. (i.e—three breaths and it would be 3 o’clock, of course! Lol) ) - I don’t think Dandelions are exclusive to Britain, but nevertheless the countryside wouldn’t be the same without them.
*Dogs. We are a nation of dog lovers. Our four legged friends certainly are mans best friend. And to Englishmen they are so much more than that.

 
E-
*The English Rose. Pretty as a picture, our national flower is a symbol of love, pride and immense beauty.
*Eggs. I know, you can get them anywhere. But English eggs are always the yummiest.


F-
*Football. A universal language, perhaps, but nobody understands it better than the English. We invented it afterall.
*Fish and Chips and Mushy Peas. Perhaps it was our French friends that invented the concept, but we added the salt and vinegar and newspaper too :-)


G-
*Galaxy Minstrels.


H-
*History and Heritage.—We are steeped in history, with England being the birth place of so many influential characters, so many courageous battles, hero’s and villains. The English history is captivating and makes us the envy of the rest of the world.


I-
*Ice Cream Vans. The 99, the screwball, the knicker-bocker glory. (Nope, not what you think. Don’t be smutty.) delicious ice creams sold by smiley Italian men in brightly-coloured vans. Just the sound of the tinkering musical tune would be enough to have my little heart fluttering with excitement as a child. And now I watch my own daughter as she hears the approaching van of deliciousness. Magic.

J-
*Jelly with the aforementioned ice cream. (Jelly, jelly. By the way. Not ‘Jam’ jelly lol)


K-
*Kites. Oh heck, couldn’t think of one for ‘K’ - Kites will do :-)


L-
*Language. The English dictionary is absolutely legendary. We have the best language. What do Americans, Australians, New Zealands, Welsh, Irish, and countless others have in common?? They all speak, ENGLISH :-D


M-
*Manners :-) When it comes to common courtesy, etiquette and good manners, we have it down ;-) Oh yes, we know our P’s from our Q’s. Where else in the entire world would you find yourself arriving at a roundabout, in the same split-second as four other drivers, unsure as to who has the right of way and therefore, sitting patiently, smiling politely, and gesturing ‘you go first,’ ‘No, no, you go first.’ ‘No, you, I insist!’ lol
 *The Monarchy. Love ‘em, or loathe ‘em, there’s no arguing that we have one of the most amazing, influential, famous and legendary Royal Families of all time. 
 *Marmite.


N-
*November. (I’m kinda clutching at straws here, on ‘N’ - so go with me on this one?) - Bonfire night. Guy Fawkes.—He was English. :-)

O-
*(Having spent at least 5 entire minutes contemplating a love for the letter ‘O’ I have admitted defeat. Cos English people don’t have to win all the time. (Unless you’re my husband, he’s an exception.)

P-
*Pickled Onions. Yummy!
*Pie, Mash & Liquor. (Though I reckon that’s a London thing! Haha!)
*The Pub. The proper pub that is. The home-from-home. ;-) Where English spend at least 70% of the entire Summer months. And winter too come to think of it.

Q-
*Queues. We bloody love ‘em. :-/ lol
*The Queen :-D

R-
*Rugby. Although perhaps I am the worst person to explain why. Muscly men and mud. Though I’m sure there’s much more to admire about the sport that we play so well. ;-)
*The rain. Because, erm, we know it oh-so well.
*Route Master Buses.


S-
*Sunshine!! Tis appreciated more so in this country than anywhere else! Lol
*Surf in Cornwall (in the Rain) lol
*Shepherds Pie. With Bisto Gravy. Ahhhh Bisto . . .
*Sarcasm. We have it down to perfection.

T–
*Team Spirit. We call it the ‘Dunkirk spirit'. Generally speaking we are a nation that looks after our neighbours. Especially in a tragedy, we (make tea) support and comfort one another like no other nation.

U-
*Umbrella’s—the must-have accessory for the Englishman (and woman, and child . . . )

V-
*Victory. Our grandparents, great-grandparents and ancestors, who fought so bravely for us and our Country.


W-
*The Weather. Hahahahaha (Told you we were good at sarcasm!)
*The World Cup. It’s coming home ;-)
* Our Wildlife. All creatures great and small. From the teeny-tiny dormouse, to the prickly hedgehog, the fox, the badger, the hare. England is home to some truly beautiful species.
* William Shakespeare. Who so was.

X-
* x x x  - Kisses. English boys are the best kissers. I know this as I have conducted extensive research. Somebody had to do it.

Y–
*The Yorkshire Dales—(Oh and Yorkshire puddings, Yorkshire tea, the Yorkshire accent.—Ha, should have done one of these on Yorkshire alone!)

Z-
Zed. I know it doesn’t rhyme with ‘G’ ‘P’ or ‘V’ and therefore doesn’t sound that great in the ‘Alphabet song’ we were taught as kids, bit it is a fabulous word all the same.

So there you have it. Thank you everyone, for your suggestions. I hope I didn’t miss anything out. And I also hope that my friends from all across the globe won’t be offended, (English girls don’t like to offend—well, this one certainly doesn’t) - but on a serious note, we live in a country that is so influenced by ‘political correctness’ and it’s got to the point where English people are afraid to fly their flags for fear of being deemed racist, offensive or otherwise rude. Yet we are the first nation to join in (and indeed accommodate) the celebrations for our friends from other nations.

I’m young, but I’m aware of the sacrifices that my ancestors made to secure this country, our beliefs and everything that we stand for. And I am so proud to call this place home. So I’m flying my flag high. Not to be controversial, but to show gratitude to those citizens before me and to demonstrate my patriotism.

And now a trip to the pub, to drink gallons of beer is of course required on a day as fine as this, and I won’t be letting anyone down :-) But before I head out, dressed from head to red-high-heeled toes in the colours of our flag I’d like to wish you once again a very happy St Georges Day. Wherever you are :-)

Steph x x x 

*Some of the above facts may not be entirely accurate. But hey, I have lots of celebrating to do, so might not have used as much time researching as I could have :-/ lol

- Feel free to add your own loves below x x x

 

I’d love to possess a more ‘scientific’ brain! Actually that’s bollocks. Science bores the pants off me. But right now a little knowledge of physics wouldn’t go amiss.

Something terrible might have just happened. I can’t be sure. 

Of course really I shouldn’t disclose this kind of information to you, because confessing to being so dim is rather embarrassing, and generally speaking humans aren’t supposed to admit, let alone, highlight, flaws of this magnitude.

Well forgive me but I am human. And I am delightfully flawed. And this, my sweets, is a little example of how flawed I am.

I dropped a drawing pin into the toaster.

Will I die?! Will I be propelled like lightening across the other side of the room the next time I go to make peanut butter on toast?! Will sparks fly? Will the toaster explode into teeny tiny pieces?  Oh if only I had the sense to be sure.

I have, of course, considered turning the toaster upside down in order to retrieve the aforementioned drawing pin, but the idea of lots of toasty crumbs everywhere is putting me off. So I guess I’ll just have to risk my life instead. Cleanliness is next to Godliness you know.

Now don’t go thinking that this extremely intense dilemma of mine will not affect you. Because it will. In fact it could confuse you completely. Cos you’re not gonna know now, whether my absence from the blogosphere and world wide web in general is as a result of my fatality with the toaster and pin, or not . . .

Poor Steph is dead. You might conclude. After all loads and loads of people die from accidents around the home, (and loads and loads of those accidents occur to me every day— honestly I’ve had fires, sparks, electric shocks, I’ve walked into walls, patio doors, windows. I fall down the stairs all the time. Once a roof tile fell and missed me by about an inch and only yesterday I got my head caught in the clothes horse when I bent down to collapse the damn thing.) - the odd’s are not in my favour.

But I mightn’t be dead at all. I might be simply working hard away from the comfort of my beloved blog. As are my intentions for a while.

In the unlikely event of my survival from accidentally killing myself with stuff in the home, I have plans for a little blog-break. Why? Well despite my talent for running in high heels, (which indeed requires lots of balance,) as yet I haven’t mastered the art of balance in the other important aspects of my life. So other tasks of importance are suffering. Tasks like shopping, getting manicures (seriously you should see ‘em at the moment. I look like a boy.) and laundry. (My life isn’t quite that glamorous just yet.)

And it’s high-time I sorted it out. So, dear blog and lovely, lovely readers—It’s not you. It’s me. I’m just rubbish at juggling.

I’ve been asked to contribute on a Project on the topic of Pregnancy, which I am uber excited about, (thank you to everyone who took part in my survey by the way!)  - so I’m still going to be working hard, even though you won’t see my blogs very often and I’m also going to spend as much time as I possibly can in the depths of a fantasy world by concentrating on my new novel , which thus far, exists only in my imagination. (When it’s longing to be put on paper.)

I’ll be back before you know it, blogging regularly and lavishing you with the undivided attention we both know you deserve. But in the meantime forgive me if my posts are few and far between for a while. And rest assured that it’s not because I am lounging around on my (award winning—I hasten to add) butt eating Snickers Bars (Ooooh I could just scoff one of those right now . . . )

In the words of Arnie himself,

Hasta La Vista Baby!

I’ll be back ;-)

Steph x