So, this is the last weekend of March Break for Emma. This afternoon we decided to make the most of it and go to the park to meet up with her Aunt and Uncle and 2 little cousins for some fun. My nephews are 3 and nearly 1 year old. Emma and the 3 year old ran around playing and climbing on everything and just having a great time together. They get along so well and I think it is absolutely adorable to see them walking together when Emma has her arm around his shoulder. It's so special to me that she has such a great bond with him. I always know that if Emma is ever having a bad day or is upset about something, that I can start talking with her about her little cousin and it will always put a smile on her face and make her giggle.
Anyway, once the playing was done and we all decided to call it a day and head home...Emma and I started walking down the path back to our car. At first she was uncharacteristically quiet...just shuffling along holding my hand. I looked down at her and I could see the wheels turning...she was thinking of something that was obviously bothering her. Instead of asking her what was wrong, I gave her a minute to sort things out in her head and let it out if she wanted to. Well, she did...she looked up at me with tears in her eyes and said she was scared. I asked her what was scaring her and she took a deep breath and said to me that she was scared of the needle for the pump...and the tears immediately spilled over her beautiful eyelashes. My heart sank to my feet and I knelt down beside her...I put my arms around her little body and hugged her. I didn't say a word. Not because I didn't want to comfort her...but simply because I couldn't...I couldn't speak...I was choking back my own tears and there was a huge lump in my throat that I was fighting. I didn't want her to see me cry over this. I didn't want her to see that I am scared too. I want her to think that I am confident...I want her to know that even if she is completely frightened of this whole thing, that she can ALWAYS count on me to be strong...she can always count on me to be right there beside her...to be her rock...her strength when she needs it...to be brave enough for both of us when she doesn't feel like she can be. So, I knelt there and held her and let her cry for a minute. Then I pulled back and looked in her beautiful brown eyes and put my hands on her little 7 year old shoulders....and I told her it was ok...it was ok for her to be scared...it was ok to be nervous and worried and stressed...whatever she is feeling about the whole situation is ok. I told her that we will do this...we will handle it and we will be ok. Whatever comes our way with this whole pump process, we will take it one step at a time...and we will be ok...we will make it. She hugged me again and told me she loved me and then took off running down the path again wanting me to chase her...giggling away.
Diabetes is hard.
Yea, I felt that last sentence meant enough that it deserved to be it's own paragraph. I had a glimpse today at what diabetes is doing to my kid mentally and emotionally. Seeing her beautiful little face...the sun shining down on her...walking through a place that is supposed to be all about kids running around, laughing, playing, swinging and climbing, having fun, and just being a kid. Yes, she did do all of those things just hours before the tears....but I would give anything for her not to have to even worry about something like this. Thankfully she didn't give diabetes too many of her tears today. I suppose this is just one more of the stepping stones on our new path of type 1 diabetes...the pump path. I think I should have brought my GPS for this journey.