Reunited

We're back together again. I picked Dave up from the airport on Wednesday. I exited the elevator the exact moment he exited the gate. And from that strangely synchronous moment, everything's been back to normal. I thought it might be a little weird, being a couple again, having someone around all the time. But it's not. I'm a little more giddy than I was before -- Dave got himself trapped between the sofa bed and the wall yesterday which had me laughing to the point where I thought I may be doing harm to myself and the unborn.
Speaking of, I finally went back to the OB who didn't seem to mind at all that it had been over two months since my last visit. Dave came with, smiling politely while sitting across from the briskly efficient -- and still tan -- docteur who was muttering to himself in French about glucose tests and echograms. But after weeks of anxiety and embarrassing phone calls to receptionists, over bad reception, in broken French, as soon as I entered the waiting room I already felt better. I knew nothing was wrong. I felt healthy. I just needed the surroundings there to verify it.
And also, it doesn't hurt to have Dave back again. To reassure me that I don't have gestational diabetes, or high blood pressure, or a fat ass, or a dumb dissertation. Phew.