This week has been hard. Super hard. Tears and depression hard. And neither of us has been at our best.
On Wednesday you told me that you were struggling at work, because you were so worried about me, you couldn't concentrate. This made me love you even more. And it made me want to ease your mind, so you didn't have to worry, but I didn't know how.
When I got home from work that night, I was startled. Where were our chairs? Hang on, where is all the crap that usually covers our kitchen? What did you do???
You, sweetest of men, had spent the day (off sick from work) cleaning our house. You had scrubbed and vacuumed and even cleaned the oven! You did loads of laundry and emptied the dishwasher, and the house was so sparkly. And you made me dinner.
It was so very lovely to come home to cleanliness. And cleanliness that I didn't have to do! After that shock, I got to snuggle up and had the best cuddles, but it wasn't until later that it occurred to me - you did this for me. You did this to look after me. You can't fix or control or change the baby stuff, but this you could do, and you did it for me.
You cleaned our house. This is you holding up a sign saying I love you. Or standing outside my bedroom with a boom box. Or taking me on a date night. Or any other stupid romantic gesture. This was it. This was the epitome of your love.
And I love you for it. I love you so very, very much. And it did make everything just a little bit better.