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Kind of like coming out all over again…

… except when I came out, email wasn’t invented.  OK, so it probably was, but back then, I was way more interested in partying and womanising than fiddling around with computers.

Forgive the gibberish, I am all wibbly because I just emailed about 60 people to tell them our news. Most of them didn’t even know we were TTC, and that doesn’t include our families or about half of vee’s collegues and other people we know but couldn’t be bothered to tell. And no, I have no idea how we know so many people either.

After personally telling some people in individual emails, including FOUR men who could have been our donor but weren’t for a number of crazy reasons that I won’t even go into here (hello, did I say four?! and we ended up with £700 frozen paramedic sperm? oh, yes), I sat in front of my screen and froze as I contemplated sending the “big list” email to everyone else, all lumped together in a large and unwieldy BCC field.

And do you know what?  I didn’t want to tell anyone. Ahahaha.

I’m not sure why, but it meant this 3-year long TTC secret of ours was coming to an end, and I didn’t want it to.  I’m not usually a keeper of secrets, but I hate attention, so maybe that was part of it.  I told a mate on IM what I was thinking, and she said “oh, it’ll be a big relief” and only partly said she knew what I meant when I tried to explain that I felt nice and safe and warm where I was.

Did I say “was”?  Oh yes.  That’s because vee pressed SEND (under duress) and now all the wide eyed congratulations are coming through as if there’s no tomorrow.

This is so, so surreal.  I feel like someone else.

xx jay

Bonus Ball has a nose!

And arms, and legs, and a HEARTBEAT and a chin and other official fetus attributes that made our eyes widen and cloud with tears. Even better, everything is fine and measures all that it should. Thank God.

You can see for yourself here!

We are obviously thrilled and so, so relieved, although somehow we’ve managed to stay remarkably zen about this whole thing, give or take a couple of hormonal and fraught rows last week, because we are women and we women do hormonal so well, don’t we?

So there you go. We managed to squeeze in our civil partnership ceremony AND celebration dates too. Does anyone actually want to fly over?! If so, we’d be delighted (email us)!

xxx jay

12 fu&*%#g weeks!

Twelve weeks today, people! Can you believe that? I certainly can’t. You know those stories that crop up from time to time - “Woman gives birth in toilets; didn’t even realise she was pregnant!”? Well, in a different life, I could have been that woman. Seriously. The measly collection of symptoms I CAN summon up (tired, headaches, indigestion, vivid dreams, veiny boobs) could so easily have slipped by unnoticed and unattached. Providing I see a baby in there at my scan on Tuesday and not a shrivelled blob of nothingness, I will count myself EXCEEDINGLY lucky indeed!

I had an acupuncture session today. I love me some acupuncture. I’m feeling much calmer about Tuesday now. CalmER, not calm, but I’ll take what I can get. She said my pulses were still slippery and for that one comment alone, today’s session was worth every penny.

In other super exciting but slightly stressful news, jay and I are finally getting moving on our Civil Partnership plans. She asked me to marry her years ago, but I wanted a shotgun wedding, so we waited. And waited. But some time soon I’m going to have a big baby bump (please?) and so we thought we’d better get a move on. We’re both big cry babies and can’t bear the thought of sobbing down the aisle in front of all and sundry, so we’re just inviting our parents to the Registry Office for the signing, followed by a nice meal and a night in a hotel. We’ll hopefully squeeze a week away somewhere local as our honeymoon, then plan to throw a big party in early December for ALL our friends and family. You are of course all invited!

vee xxx

Stick it to me.

Yay! Messages were eventually returned and today I finally got to see the midwife. She was as lovely as I remember her being from my first appointment. Nothing much happened really - we went over some family and medical history stuff, she booked me in for a 12 week scan in 10 days time(!), filled out a few forms, took my blood pressure and then totally failed to find a co-operative vein on either arm and so was unable to collect the 4 vials of blood she needed from me. She was most upset about this, having prided herself on her needle skills prior to the first attempt. No matter - it’s not the first time I’ve been difficult to stick. I’ll have to make time next week to go to the phlebotomist at the local clinic to see if they fare any better. Most amusingly, she only had one sticking plaster in her blood draw kit - this is the NHS after all - so I got to pick which arm to use it on.

We’re having a few friends round tomorrow for a BBQ, so please keep your fingers crossed that it won’t pour with rain like it has every other day of this miserable summer we’ve had. It’s a Bank Holiday weekend, traditionally poor weather is to be expected, so we’re not holding out too much hope, and do have a plan B.

Have a great weekend one and all.

vee xxx

She never came!!

The midwife - she never turned up!

There are many, many great things about the National Health Service in this country, not least free midwives who come to your house, but there are down sides too, like crappy admin and missed appointments.

I’m now involved in an elaborate game of telephone tag with the midwife team, trying to rearrange. Messages have been left.

Jay is stressing that this missed appointment will make things difficult when it comes to organising our 12 week scan. Who knows. Mostly I’m just sad that I didn’t get my pregnant-lady do yesterday. Sigh.

vee xxx

Miscellany and Midwives

Firstly, thanks must go to Timaree and Mulberry for the awards they bestowed upon us. Please consider yourselves awarded right back!  We are honoured. However, we aren’t going to be giving out any more awards, I’m afraid, because we simply can’t choose 5 more people, and because Mulberry blatantly encouraged us to break the rules - so consider them broken! Ha.

News on the pregnancy front is that vee is showing ever so slightly. It’s both weird but kind of unmistakable, even if she does insist it’s because she isn’t holding her tummy in so much these days. In fact, I just turned to her and asked, “Am I allowed to talk about your bump?” and she shot back, “I haven’t got a bump!” then laughed to herself as if I was doing it all wrong and imagining everything.

But it is there.

At the weekend, I went to see an old mate; one of our first prospective KDs, in fact, but that never got off the drawing board largely because he “wasn’t ready” - about 5 years later, he still isn’t.  Another story! Anyway, just after telling me about someone’s 4th and someone else’s 2nd pregnancy, he reminded me that another mutual friend would soon be moving to the area “to start a family” with her husband. “She wants 5 children!” he said, to which I could only reply, “Ha, well, she’d better get a move on!” Rather alarmed, my friend asked me what I meant, so I explained that she’s the same age as me (33) so if she wants to pop 5 sprogs out in swift succession, she’d better get a move on.

Later, vee and I worked out that if she didn’t have any IF issues, she’d be able to birth 1 kid every 18 months by the time she’s 40. Seriously, though. What’s this with people and their assumptions that all will be well and 2.4 (or 5.0) and go according to plan? Because if you’re in the IVP, Nothing Goes To Plan. As we all know! Good luck to them is all I can say.

Finally, it is nearly 4pm and the midwife is still not here. This is only blogworthy because she was meant to come at a random time that suited her (i.e. when she wasn’t delivering babies or something like that) and there’s just about an hour of the working day left. Should we worry, or do midwives just do what they feel like all the time?

And no, I haven’t got used to the fact that A MIDWIFE IS COMING TO OUR HOUSE yet. It’s crazy. It’s what the pregnants do, innit?!

- jay xx

Of must-haves and meltdowns….

Last night I had the most vivid dream about Fisherman’s Pie.  I cooked the whole damned thing from start to finish, then ate it, and it was divine.  I could even smell the onions frying in butter; the white wine reducing; creamy mashed potato piped carefully on top of chunks of ocean goodness.  Mmmm-mmm.  When I woke jay for work, I told her I simply MUST HAVE Fisherman’s Pie (although by this point I couldn’t face cooking it myself, having already been through the motions once in my sleep).  Sweet girl that she is, she ventured into town and tracked down the most delicious pie for me, which I had for my lunch, with peas, just exactly how I wanted it.  To the Satisfier of Cravings - I love you! Thank you!

Today also marks the day of my first full on hormonal meltdown. I’m generally a relatively calm person, prone to weepiness perhaps, and overly sentimental, but all-in-all pretty well balanced.  So when jay was slightly snappish with me this morning because I grumped that she had been keeping me waiting (the fact that I hadn’t actually told her I was waiting for her should be mentioned in her defence) we were both unprepared for the monumental paddy that I threw. Cue screeching and door slamming and snotty, messy tears.  It was so ridiculously over the top that jay laughed, which of course only made things worse!  She apologised profusely (for what?) and handed me tissues and I calmed down after a while, then started laughing hysterically at how ridiculous I had been. Since then, I’ve been exhausted!

Do you think I might be pregnant?

vee xxx

getting (and keeping) the lid on the box

Vee here. Bad blogger that I am, I’ve been keeping rather quiet these last few days. I’ve been busy with some internal wrestling. Normally I’m a glass half full kind of person. I don’t dwell on things, I try to look to the future, but I went through a week or so back there that really was very negative. Getting those thoughts back under control, squeezing them back into a manageable space and keeping them there has taken some effort.

It started around week 8 when the few symptoms that I had seemed to vanish. Cue restless nights, doom-laden dreams and obsessive g00gling of miscarriage related terms. Shameful really, given that I’m incredibly fortunate to have no history of miscarriage. In part, it felt like some kind of sick, self-indulgent masochism - imagine IF the worst happened…. WTF? And yet at the same time I felt quite detached from these feelings; rather bovine about the whole thing.

This week has been MUCH better. The Telling has certainly helped. Other people’s excitement has proved infectious. Feeling a little queasy has helped too! I’m trying to confine myself to the “bleeding is the most common sign of miscarriage” mantra and succeeding to a large extent, given the lack of blood in my nether regions. Yesterday we bought a foetal doppler (discovered SIL’s doesn’t work until 20 weeks) and we *think* we briefly found the baby’s heartbeat. Monday I see the midwife. In two weeks I’ll get another scan. These things are helping to keep the lid down.

I know I’m in danger of becoming the kind of woman I would want to shout at - “For goodness’ sake, you’re pregnant! Stop bloody whinging!”. But as the wise woman at Reproducing Genius pointed out-

It makes perfect sense that this is how you feel right now. You’ve been down the road of everything going wrong so many times that it is hard to believe something could go well.

So here I am, just trying to keep the lid on, and waiting for the good times to start rolling!

vee xxx

 

Of annoying dogs and dopplers.

I (jay) just wanted to say thank you, thank you, thank you to all the lovely people who left comments on my last post. I WAS scared of posting it, even though the IVP are wonderful and understanding and more, but doing so helped. I now feel less crazy, and a little freaked out at how some of you seem to understand what I’m saying even when *I* don’t. How does that work?!

As I type, we’re literally just back from a long drive home after telling my parents. I’m knackered and a bit hungover - which is a very strange, almost alien sensation - and just totally relieved.

For complicated reasons that I won’t go into, unbeknownst to me, my younger sister had already told my parents - or at least my Mum - that we were TTC, ages ago. I’m not at all bothered, in fact it helped take the unnecessarily dramatic edge off it, though it would have been nice to have known..!

Anyway, to cut a long story short, telling my family involved vee handing me a book with a printout of the scan pic inside (purely to keep it flat), and me putting it down until I calmed my nerves. However, my Dad is a keen reader, so of course picked up the book and had a good look at it, unnervingly leafing through it until I grabbed it from him, threw my parents’ annoyingly scrabbly dog from my lap for the 107th time, and then confused everyone in the room by flicking crazily through the pages, trying desperately to find the scan before I not-so-spontaneously combusted.

Once it was in my hand, all I could do was wave it in the air and shriek “WE’RE HAVING A BABY!!” with zero dignity at all, whatsoever.

My Dad, bless him, turned a fetching shade of purple and looked as if he was about to cry, then managed to beam and say “congratulations.” Mum, with far less restraint, hugged vee so hard that I was worried she might snap, while my sister leapt up and hugged me. My aunt squealed. My brother said we can have all of their *PINKER THAN PINK* baby stuff and hugged me twice. SIL has gone way up in my estimation by chattering happily about baby things and saying we can borrow their doppler.

So all was good. And no other announcements either.

The baggage of TTC

Way before we got pregnant I (jay) remember reading people’s blogs and sometimes feeling astonished that pregnancy wasn’t all a bed of roses. Of course, I respected bloggers’ views, even if I didn’t understand them, but I really thought that being pregnant was kind of the answer to everything. For us, anyway.  But it so isn’t.

I’m typing in slow motion here - when I usually churn out dozens of words by the minute - because I’m finding it hard so to articulate this whole thing, but I do have to get it out, somehow. So if there is more waffle here than usual, I do apologise. Truth be told, I’m really scared about posting this.

Um, yeah. Don’t get me wrong, I’m over the moon that vee is pregnant and I TOTALLY can’t wait to be a mum, but I don’t feel as “cleansed” as I thought I might.  It’s so weird. I feel blah a lot of the time. Before we got pregnant, I was taking St John’s Wort as I had a kind of mild dull depression that I couldn’t shake off, but I didn’t want or need anything more hardcore (been there, don’t want to again). St John’s Wort suited me fine and I guess we always saw it as a temporary thing that would come to an end when we found the answer to everything - pregnancy.

But that didn’t happen. OK yes there was the initial disbelief and euphoria, complete with pee stick art and whatever. Certainly, there was that. Optimistically, I figured I didn’t need my St John’s Wort any more, so stopped taking it. But then after all the excitement wore off a little, I started feeling crap again. Then I started feeling crap about feeling crap… how fucking ungrateful did I have to be?!  Fuck, baby on the way and all that. I couldn’t believe myself. It was beyond anxiety - it was like having PMT all the time!

Trying to explain that to the handful of non TTC friends who know we’re pregnant is not easy. Two of them simply Don’t Get It at all, and kind of sway between being exasperated and just downright confused that we aren’t bouncing off the walls with glee. Another two friends kind of get it, which helps and makes me feel less crazy.

Of course, though, vee gets it, and after a good talk the other day, we came to the realisation that I’d underestimated how quickly I’d be able to pull myself back together again after all that time we spent TTC. So now, I’m back on the St John’s Wort and feeling a bit better. You’ve got to walk before you can run, right?

This is so weird. People say things like, “oh, from this point onwards, you never stop worrying.” Yeah, great. The thing is, I can totally understand how people get postnatal depression. I don’t know how, but I just can. I guess only time will heal and I’ll be able to get rid of all my TTC baggage and have a smiley happy outlook to life again - because yeah, I did use to, though I can hardly remember what I/we were like then. Sociable? Political? Humorous? Probably.

So there you have it. TTC for 2 or 3 years and in the end when you get pregnant, you’ll have permanent PMT and worry about symptoms, the lack of them, and goodness knows whatever could go wrong.

I’m sure this will become fun eventually…!?  This weekend we take another stab at telling my family after our failed attempt a couple of weeks ago, which I’m actually looking forward to - the surprise element’s bound to shake away a bit of baggage.

Oh there she goes, that ungrateful pregnant. She is me. How did that happen?

Blah, blah, blah.

Like water through our fingers.

It’s extra lucky that we got knocked up back in June, because there’s no way we’d have managed to scrape together the dosh for another try - seriously, money has been flowing through our hands like water over the last 6 weeks. It seems to be one thing after another:

• Stray cat with dodgy teeth - nearing £500 so far, with the strong possibility of another £180 dental.
• New oven - to replace the crap one that keeps blowing our electricity supply. £240 plus £50 installation.
• Car - insurance £240; road tax £185; new shocks and wheel bearing - still waiting to hear. And don’t get me started on pertol prices. We’re up to £1.30 per litre (that’s about £$2.60).
• Shed - because our new house isn’t big enough to store all our crap, apparently. £290.

I hope it stops soon. I shouldn’t moan really, as we’re lucky enough to have jobs that pay reasonably well, and generally have the opportunity to simply work more billable hours, but hey, who wants to work MORE?

Life has been good here, save becoming a money pit. Jay and I passed an enjoyable weekend mooching and checking out a vintage car rally being held in our town. You may laugh, but we thought they were cool!

(I hate photo-wrestling with WP - crap! The third car down was made in 1910 and is still running - remarkable!)

Oh and thanks for the cereal advice - I’m sticking with toast for now.

A ticker? Jeesh.

Yup. We have a ticker - partly because everyone else is doing it so why shouldn’t we? - but mainly because we of the sieve brains (one pregnant and one pseudo-pregnant; more on that another day) can’t for the lives of ourselves remember anything. So it is kind of like a calendar for us.

Of course, vee managed to find The Perfect Ticker the other night, then panicked at the very idea of it, and lost it all over again. Much G00gling and surfing later, she found it again, so it can be seen on our special new preggo page*, along with other things that I admit have driven me away from other blogs before**. There are only so many belly shots and shit that people can take sometimes, so ours are all safely one click away, if you are so inclined. If you’re not, don’t click.

In other news, does anyone know if muesli (granola ,whatever) has evil foetus-crunching tendencies? Vee eats it for breakfast every morning and afterwards she gets weird, griping pains at the top of her stomach, stabbing her unrelentingly for a few minutes. This morning we started The Great Toast Experiment, where she ate toast instead, and the pain did not come. Does this mean that vee has to stop eating her beloved home-made muesli and join me in toastdom, or should she experiment further by eliminating ingredients one by one? Gawd, who knew breakfast could be so complicated?

* Oh. My. God.

** No offence meant, so I do hope none will be taken!

And this is the part where we post the scan pic.

So yeah, the suspense almost killed us as we sat in the waiting room swigging Rescue Remedy and wishing it was gin or something like that. OK, maybe not gin, especially not at 10am, but still.

We were lucky enough to get the TRAINEE scan lady who swished around for like, hours, seemingly not finding anything until the boss woman scan lady swivelled around in her chair and told her to go up, down and to the left a bit, and lo and behold…

We would like love be extremely honoured to introduce you all to Bonus Ball*

No, you can’t see a lot, but apparently all is fine and well and “developing beautifully” and BB is now 7 weeks and 3 days old. His/her estimated due date is Friday 13th March 2009. Gotta laugh, haven’t we? Gotta laugh.

Thank you, thank you for your lovely comments, especially those with wise words about boob pain. They helped a LOT!

HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOORAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYY!

-jay xx

* I know, I know, but we couldn’t not, could we?

The Fear.

I (jay) should start this by saying all is OK now, but yesterday morning we seriously wished we had a random delegation of four* IVPers in our bedroom with us (*it would have been good to have everyone, but realistically, our bedroom is not that big).

I don’t think I’m usually such a pessimist, but I AM a worrier, and The Worry has certainly been present these last few days, along with The Fear and the horrible panic attack it brought to me on Friday. No biggie, really, especially as I’m an old hand at panic attacks - I had them on a daily basis in another life 12 years ago, but rarely have them these days, thankfully - but still.

In retrospect (what a fine thing), we should probably have seen it as a sign that The Fear wanted to grip hold of me and shake out all reason, but we did not. I should probably have realised that having a panic attack because you feel immense pressure about telling your family you and your partner are expecting a baby and having to smile and show joy and stuff when all you want to do is freak out about the scan that is happening AFTER you’ve told them, is not a good sign.

But we didn’t. And then yesterday morning at 5am vee freaked out because she went for a wee and her boobs weren’t hurty any more. Cue many tears, which is not a good thing at 5am, though thankfully (!) I had the most dramatic hayfever fit which involved much sneezing and made vee laugh, then we went back to sleep.

Then we woke up at a more socially acceptable time and there were more tears as we talked ourselves up and down off various ledges and reluctantly concluded that going to tell my family was NOT A GOOD IDEA.

And no, it doesn’t feel like chickening out at all. We have learned a lot from this incident, mainly;

1. Trying to feign calm when inside you feel screwed up and mildly hysterical is not possible;
2. It is very different telling someone you’re pregnant JUST AFTER a positive HPT (vee’s family) and JUST BEFORE the most important scan of your lives (mine) - like DUH;
3. If you tell your sister that you and your partner are very sorry that you cannot drive for four hours to visit her on her birthday because you are both ill, she is likely to be lovely and sympathetic and you will feel loads and loads better.

So yeah, we stayed home. And it felt so much better. This is amazingly like a TWW but with a much scarier result on the end of it. Hopefully next weekend when we go to see my family we will have a nice scan picture to take with us which shows a baby, and a baby that measures the right size and is so boringly FINE that really you’d have to think hard to find something to worry about.

And no, we don’t have any reason to worry - apart from the fluctuating soreness of vee’s boobs, which is probably nothing, right? - and for that we are so fucking lucky. But when you’ve been where we’ve been you cannot just throw rose petals in the air and skip merrily around your house without a care in the world and belly rub smugly and wonder what colour to paint your nursery. Not without proof anyway.

And proof will make The Fear go away. For a while anyway.

Meanwhile, it is a lovely day again, so I think we will be going for a very, very long walk. Please send us IVP vibes like never before for a boringly FINE scan tomorrow. Please.

We love you.

Err, excuse me, I thought that was MY thunder?

My brother called with surprising news last night - my sister in law is pregnant with their second child.  Does it make me an incredibly mean and churlish person to feel somewhat deflated at this news?  I can hear some spoiled drunken brat inside me screaming, “But this is MY party!”

What makes it worse in a lot of ways is that she is 12 weeks already.  They waited until her 12 week scan before telling anybody. She KNOWS she has a healthy baby in there. Meanwhile I just have the pee sticks and the crazies. It makes me feel like I’m pretending.

As Cali said earlier - the upstaging fertiles of the world can just SUCK IT!!

She’s due in January, so I will allow her to have a month or so of people cooing over her bub, then OUR beautiful child will come along and steal all the glory!!! Mwahhhaaa!

And once I’ve got over my diva tantrum, I’ll be delighted our child has a cousin so close in age to play with.

Up to see jay’s family tomorrow - wonder if her brother’s girlfriend will be making any announcements too?

vee xxx

Meet the Midwife.

I had my first appointment with the midwife yesterday. It felt a little fraudulent, what with not yet having had a scan and all (STILL!!! ARRRGHHH!), but I did another HPT before I left and it was still positive, so what the hell.

I think I was half expecting her to laugh me out of the room with a “You? Pregnant? I don’t think so!” or maybe a “Come back in a zillion weeks and stop bothering me this early in the game” but she didn’t. In fact, she was very sweet and reassuring and she treated me like a pregnant person (that was a novelty) and after weighing and measuring me she packed me off with an ENORMOUS state-sanctioned information pack and a mountain of forms to fill in and said she’d come over to our house to see me again on 18th August.

Without wanting to bore you with too many details, the system here is different (obviously) and we don’t get to pick a midwife. We’ll be cared for by a team of midwives, with special attachment to the first one I was seen by. I can be seen at home or at the local clinic (5 mins walk from home) throughout my pregnancy. When it comes to the birth (get me with the optimism), we can opt for delivery at home, at their Birth Centre or Midwife Led unit where they take a non/minimal intervention approach and provide pools, birthing balls, bean bags aromatherapy and whale music. Or I can ask them to refer me to hospital where I can get a spine full of epidural or a C-section if I need one. I am as yet undecided, and will remain so for some time I suspect. Once a decision is reached, I reserve the right to change my mind at any time!

The best part of the appointment was the bit where I told my boss it’d take 2 hours and would mean I wouldn’t be able to get to work before 2:30pm, so would she mind if I worked from home in the afternoon instead and she said yes! A bonus day at home with my honey is always good.

vee xxx

OMG!

The best news! Ever! Here.

Something is a little more right with the Universe today.

Mine for the telling?

One serious downside about IVF for me was that I had to let lots of people I wouldn’t ordinarily confide in into the loop. Due to the nature of some of the work that I do, it would have been problematic to have time off unplanned had I kept things quiet. Coming clean meant I was able to put a back-up in place if I was unsure whether I’d be around, and meant my colleagues were able to be understanding and helpful, not pissed off and left in the lurch.

Of course, it also meant my colleagues knew exactly what was happening with my cycle and exactly when I’d be likely to know whether it had worked or not. Even being vague about test dates didn’t give me much leeway, as I’m only there 2 days a week.

And so I found myself telling people I wouldn’t pass the time of day with outside of work that I was pregnant before jay and I even had a chance to tell our own families. That kind of sucked. At least two of my work colleagues have religious difficulties with the idea of jay and I having children, and with ART in general.  Their problem, not mine, but when the response to your announcement is, “Wow! It worked then? So that means you’ll be off during semester two. I hope the management will agree to pay for maternity cover, else things will be really difficult.” it kind of takes the fizz out of things.

Worse still, and something I am still smarting about, one of these people - my immediate senior (by way of being ambitious and arselicky, not because she’s more skilled or experienced - just needed to make that clear) contacted me earlier in the week to inform me that she had shared my news with our line manager, as they had needed to have a discussion about staffing budgets for 2009. I had explicitly asked this person not to say anything to anyone. When I expressed my disappointment that I now wouldn’t be able to tell my boss myself when I came in the following day, she implied that it was unreasonable of me to expect her to keep it quiet within the team.

For one freaking day? Really, your staff budget talk was SO urgent? And I’m so thick I thought I could tell some people in the team and not others despite the fact that they all knew we were having treatment?

Kind of spoiled things for me a bit.

Telling jay’s family this coming weekend will more than make up for it though!

vee xxx