But my husband came home not ten minutes later. Full of concern and forgiveness for my terse attitude an hour earlier. With an offering of chocolate and cuddles before he had to rush off to work. A phone call in the middle of the day, just to tell me he loved me and was hoping I wasn't in too much pain.
Words from thousands of miles away, a motherly voice wishing me well. Words written about me by another of my beautiful internet friends, words I didnt' find until a day later, when I really needed them.
My son, snuggled on the couch with me as we watched the State of Origin and talked about my mother and the tradition the two of us had of watching the games together. The adoring look in his eyes as he whispered "You're my mother", in a way that showed he found this to be the most wonderful thing in the world. Words uttered with such awe and love. Tears that spilled down my cheeks as I told him that to me, it realy was. That there was nothing more amazing to me than getting to be his mother. The grip of his little arms as he told me he was so glad he was my son.
Chubby arms that held me as my little one kissed and hugged me to death. A chuckle as upon my suggestion he transfer the hugs to his brother (anything to catch my breath) he yelled he would EAT his "Brubba". The resulting squeals, hugs and giggles from my boys. The warmth that filled my heart and seeped through my bones as my husband and I held hands and smiled over them.
The loving hands of two of the best friends a girl could ever have. Gently stroking my arms, holding my hands when I didn't even realise I'd started to scratch. Feeling the love they were sending my way. More warmth. And such gratitude.
Things are really getting better.