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

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

 

And 8 hours later I became a Mummy for the very first time :-)

"There is a rock on the banks of the River Rhine in Germany where a beautiful mermaid sits and sings.  Her beauty so radiant, her voice so powerful, and her song so alluring, that many a sailor has met his fate distracted by her presence.

Her name is Lorelei.

So too was the character played by Marilyn Monroe in the 1953 hit-movie, 'Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.'

Many poems have been written, many songs too, all inspired by the magical qualities of which the beautiful Lorelei possesses.

Mumma's darling girl,  your name suits you to a tee.

Lorelei Jasmyn, you are but five years old and already you are making your mark on our world. You are so intelligent, so knowledgeable, so inquisitive and the more I get to know you day-by-day, the more certain I am that you are destined for great things.

You're an absolute blessing to me, you always have been and you always will be.

When you first made your presence known your Mumma was just nineteen years old, in college, studying Music, working part-time as a waitress. I knew very little of the meaning of life, but you changed all of that.

Fate had decided that that Summer, 2003 would see many a new discovery in my life. And before I started my second year of college I packed my Rainbow Stilettoes into my back-pack and jetted solo across the globe to spend the season with my best friend in the land down under.

Together Katy and I travelled along the east-coast of Queensland, Australia. We swam in the Great Barrier Reef. We rode horses along the beach. We got lost in the Rainforest. Got stuck in a cable-car high in the mountains. We sang in bars, slept in hammocks under the stars and survived on a diet of watery beer and instant noodles. We had an absolute blast.

That was to be my last Single-gal Summer.

And by the time I set foot on English soil again I knew you were there.

I couldn't eat anything. Couldn’t stand the scent of food full stop, never mind the taste. And my hormones were shot to pieces. The in-flight movie on the way home, Bambi, had me sobbing almost hysterically.

It wasn't a big shock when the pregnancy test proved positive. But it was terrifying.

Nobody teaches you how to be a Mumma. And babies don't come with instructions. I was young and society often frowns upon young Mummies. But determined to prove myself I tried endlessly to do as good a job of raising you as I possibly could.

Often when Babies are born Mummies can suffer from something called Post Natal Depression. Nobody really talks about it. Perhaps because nobody likes to admit it. But Post Natal Depression can leave you feeling desperate, lonely, sad and unhappy. And because babies bring so much joy, when a new Mummy feels unhappy she also feels guilty. And guilt has to be one of the worst emotions to feel.

I thought perhaps I wasn't very good at being a Mummy at first. Nobody tells parents whether they are doing a good job. Instead people only point out the things that a new Mummy or Daddy is doing wrong. Not holding the baby correctly perhaps? Or bottle-feeding instead of breast feeding? There are endless reasons to feel guilty as a parent and very little recognition for the things that you do perfectly.

I had wanted everything to pan out perfectly. To feel the instant rush of Mothers Intuition, to bond with you as they do in the movies. Yet it was a slower process for you and I. At the time I felt I couldn't tell anybody. I painted a smile on my face to hide my fear, and I cried in my bedroom, where nobody could see. Because I thought I was alone. I thought it was different for everybody else and I thought you would be better off with somebody older and wiser, who knew what they were doing.

Yet my gorgeous baby girl it was you who saved Mummy from feelings of utter despair. Your first smile, at three o'clock in the morning, about 12 weeks after your arrival, was a moment of euphoria that shall never be forgotten. The way that you gazed at me. Your eyes wide and full of love. And it was at this moment that I knew. You needed me. I needed you and together we would be okay.

And as you grew you showed so many signs of love and appreciation. And you'll never know what that means to me. To hear you say, 'I love you,' to watch your face seek mine for approval and encouragement. To feel you in my arms and to watch you blossom into the most beautiful little lady I have ever known.

You have given my life a real purpose Lorelei and I pledge to you that no matter what I will always be the very best Mumma I can be."

~Excerpt taken from my book, 'Give a girl the right pair of shoes . . . And she can conquer the world.' ~