I see you out there...creeping into your child's room in the wee hours of the morning...blood sugar meter and lancet in hand. I see you shuffling over to their bed, bleary eyed and exhausted...still half-asleep. I see you pausing...taking a moment to look upon them and take in their beauty...so peaceful...so sweet...diabetes is the furthest thought from their minds, and that is the most beautiful sight in the world to you. I see you wipe away that stray single tear that managed to escape from your eye and roll down your cheek. I see your face change from one of love and sadness...to one of strength, determination, and routine. I see you reach down and choose one of your child's callused and marked fingers and yield one of your tools of the trade...the lancet. I see you poke a needle into the tip and squeeze a droplet of blood out...while thoughts and mantras race through your mind...please show me a good number...please don't be low...please don't be high...please let it be good so we can all sleep safely and soundly tonight to awaken in the morning. I see you wait for the meter to count down and show you the number...the all important...all consuming number. I see you hold your breath for that last moment as the reading on the meter finally appears. I see you lean down and kiss your child's forehead...content and relieved that you were shown a good number...greatful and lucky that this time you won the numbers lottery and are rewarded with a safe child...and a half way decent sleep.
I see you out there. I know you. I know you better than your own family knows you. I know your deepest darkest thoughts, fears, feelings, and worries. I know your joys, your overwhelming pride, your relief, and your victories. I know your grief, sadness, loss, and struggles. I know how much it means to you to see your child smile...to see them succeed in spite of...in the face of...type 1 diabetes.
I know you. I know you because you are me....and I am you.