Trucking

Two days of discussions (and still a budget talk to go, complete with Excel spreadsheet and a "This is why we can still travel" determination on my part), and we're doing ok.

Some kind of turning point was reached the other night, when after hours of not speaking he came upstairs with a cup of homemade pregnancy-friendly cough remedy for me, as a cold I have threatened to remove my lung from its secure rib cage casing. 

And when I saw the computer, he'd been surfing. 

He'd been here.

And here.

And most touching of all, he'd been reading here.

I can't tell you how much it meant to me.  I can't tell him that, either, because I'll start to cry, but at least he'll read it here.

And yesterday when I got home from work, I saw he'd changed our Skype profile picture and slogan.  We use Skype a lot, to talk to friends and family in the States, Sweden, and across England.  We take turns making up some slogan that takes the piss out of each other, as the slogan and the picture we use is visible to everyone on our contact list.

And although it doesn't mean he's come around, or it's all 100% better, or that we're not both still scared and nervous or that the world is back on its axis and we should stop worrying about the melting of the polar ice caps, I've been extremely choked up and moved by what he's been up to.

And it's not the hormones talking, either.

I can't do this without him, and I don't want to, either.

He'd changed it to this: