When I was at school, the subject of Science appeared on my timetable merely to bridge the gap between the subjects that I, personally, found more stimulating. Like Drama and Lunchtime. Three times a week I was provided with the perfect period in which to smoke fags in the woods and re-do my make-up and thus my entire scientific knowledge could probably be written on the back of a shopping receipt.




Yes I know that H20 is the periodic code for water, (and J2O must, therefore be the code for juice, lol) and I know that gravity is the force to blame for the sagging of various body parts in the latter stages of life. I also know a little about genetics.




My knowledge of the human anatomy came directly from the problem pages of J17 and More magazine and I have never, ever dissected a frog, or any other animal for that matter.




Science bored the pants off of me and I wasn't about to waste what little time I did spend behind the school gates being bored. Perhaps if I could turn the clocks back I would have concentrated a little more, smoked a little less and saved some dosh on foundation and mascara, but then again perhaps if I'd have concentrated a little more I wouldn't be quite so open to non-scientific theories on life in general.




Astrology, alternative therapies and the paranormal are far more likely to gage my interest. I'm not really religious but I'd sooner buy into the story of Adam, Eve and the Snake than I would details of The Big Bang and Evolution. (Not just because I love a good old romance and a bit of nudity, I hasten to add,) I'm ashamed to admit that I am not intellectual enough to grasp the basics of evolution – I've always wondered, for example, if we evolved from monkeys, how come monkeys still exist? Surely they should be humans too? Or did only a percentage of monkeys evolve and the rest simply remained monkeys? You see? I am absolutely hopelessly clueless.




I particularly, whilst I'm on the subject, loathe Science Fiction as a form of entertainment. The entire concept of fusing Science, which by definition is based on fact, with fiction born from the minds of geeky teenaged boys, just doesn't do it for me. I think the two should be separated completely. Either we believe the men in the white coats or we take the imaginative route instead, thank you very much. (I don't mean to offend anyone here by the way, I've never actually seen Star Wars, but I've heard it is quite good and I know that Princess Leia was very beautiful with a fabulous hair-do!)




What I do love is the Supernatural. Not the programme, (which Jay watches religiously, I'm not a fan, though do tune in for the Sam and Dean deliciousness) but the idea of ghosts and angels and life after death never ceases to amaze me.




I am a firm believer in the existence of 'something else,' - not just because of my own, 'magic powers,' (which I won't tell you about for fear you'll think I'm even nuttier then you ever thought before,) but because I cannot comprehend the idea of one coming to the end of their lives and dying into absolute nothingness. (Ooooh I was half expecting a red squiggly line there but apparently 'nothingness' is actually a word.)




Without getting deep and meaningless and starting the 'life – what's it all about' age-old debate, (which one should only ever indulge in after taking drugs or drinking lots anyway, because otherwise it is too complicated a subject for the poor human brain to take on,) – I do have my own little theory and that is that I believe life is all about learning. You live, you love and you learn and when you die your soul carries the traits and the knowledge you've gained from one life, right on to the next. It's reincarnation, but not as we know it ;-)




I also believe that we have the ability to tune into other zones and thus that we can indeed communicate with those no longer living in the 'zone' we're in right now.




Some communicate with the powers of mind, some use ouigi boards, some go to spiritualists church's or mediums, some ring those ridiculously expensive telephone numbers in the back of magazines. But me? I use the powers of the almighty baby monitor . . .




Our house is old, (don't ask me how old, I haven't a clue,) it's a cottage built from stone and decorated by a blind person with very little patience, (I assume? Though that's pretty irrelevant anyway) – and very often one can feel the strange sensation of a kind of 'presence' in the place.




Some strange things have happened, objects have been moved. (I once came down the stairs to find the telly was tilted and facing a wall . . .) and then I went with my pal Tasha to a spiritualist church and guess what they told me? They said my house was haunted.




To be more precise they said that the spirit of a small child might just be lurking around the joint. A week later Jay found some peculiar old toys in our loft. (The little hairs on my arms are now standing to attention, how's yours?!)




So this was months and months ago and although a few eerie things have happened since, none quite so eerie as the episode the other night.




My hubby and I were laying in bed at about 3am, when the lights on our baby monitor suddenly flashed red, detecting movement in our sons bedroom. These lights were accompanied, not so strangely, by the sound of a baby crying. I wouldn't have batted a sleepy eye lid if it wasn't for the fact that our baby was at that moment in time laying in his fathers arms.




We've since heard a number of peculiar noises coming from Leo's baby monitor. The sound of a small child singing, (whilst my other small child was sound asleep,) - the hushed voices of adults talking, Country and Western music, you name it, it's been bought to directly to our bedroom via the monitor.




The simple explanation of course is that our monitor is simply picking up the signal from somebody else in the area, which is totally plausible as many a fresh baby has been born in the village and at least one of the families must have a monitor like ours, yet at 4 in the morning there is something a little scary about hearing a man who isn't my husband chatting away in my room. Lol

And the further it falls the heavier the weight plunging to the depths of my stomach. The nerves, the anxiety, the sheer fear.  

I'm going to have a baby. Oh. My. God.

Have I been in denial this whole time?? I suppose not, I mean I've been counting the days for months now (36 left) yes D Day is definitely approaching and yet it's only just dawning on me that with it comes a little parcel that'll change life forever as we know it in this household. 

I've thought a lot about how this little person is going to make his entrance. Thoughts of labour, of birthing pools, of contractions and pain relief have been permanantly occupying my brain lately. I've prepared myself for, (and indeed am looking forward to,) becomming a 'single' human being again. Being able to sleep on my tummy, having a few, much-missed, drinkies and of course wearing my high heels again, but funilly enough I think i've overlooked the very valid point that at the end of this pregnancy comes a baby.

I should be an old pro by now. Afterall I took on this very same challenge when I had my daughter at 20. Yet 5 years have passed since then, with one pregnancy ending in miscarriage at 12 weeks and another ending in total tragedy at the half-way mark, and I suppose I've just been so occupied by getting through an entire pregnancy that the thought of bringing a new baby into our world has been pushed to the back of my mind.

I should be confident, quietly assured that I've spent the past 5 years raising a bubba, so can easily do it all again. Deep down though, I'm not afraid to admit that I am, (for the purpose of emphasis) totally shitting bricks here.

I know what's coming. It's all returning to me now. Crystal clear memories of the challenges and hurdles that I'm facing. The sleepless nights. The constant crying. The painful boobs. The baby blues. There will be no 'off' button. No instructions. And I'm going to be, once again, completely responsible for a brand new life. Just Jay and I, with our little helper Lori. And together we have to make this whole thing work.

Perhaps it's a good thing that I'm being realistic about this. I mean I know it's not going to be all rosy. I'm kinda prepared, if not expecting, for it to be tough. Unlike the last time round when the harsh realities of life with a newborn sent my preconcieved fantasies of maternal bliss tumbling to the ground. 

It's far better to be realistic than to set myself up for a fall, right? Or should I be thinking in a glass is half-full manner? Maybe positivity will be key?

Ooooh heck, help me!

Can i really do this all over again? Will i cope okay? How about when Jay goes back to work and it's just me and my new creation?

I know, i know, i should have thought about all this beforehand. Preferably nine months ago. But you see losing Harry, just 6 weeks before falling pregnant with his sibling has kinda thrown me just a tad. I was supposed to have my baby at Christmas, instead i have had the worlds longest pregnancy (well almost) and I couldn't really visualise the end, until now.

Well only time will tell I suppose. Wish me lots of luck though won't you? Just in case ;-)

Steph x