Faulty insulin cartridges and my pool of despair

Today was one of those days where I felt like I might as well have just been banging my head against the wall. Frustration, despair, anger....all rolled up into a tight little ball...hung out in my brain all day long. It all started around 3:00 this morning...I woke up from one of diabetic narcolepsy situations on the couch. I vividly remembered laying there channel surfing...blinked my eyes...and then I was out like a light. Anyway, I sat bolt upright in a complete panic...the first thoughts to shoot through my still dreaming semi-conscious brain was of course...as always...diabetes. I tried to remember when the last time was that I checked Emma's blood sugar. It was like trying to organize and shuffle the world's largest deck of cards that had been tossed in the air in the middle of a hurricane and float around landing where they may. I literally shook my head and got my wits about me and made my way upstairs to check on her. I was greeted with a not so pleasant high number, so I gave a correction and made my way to my own bed to sleep the rest of the wee hours of the morning away.
Once she awoke for breakfast, she was still high...so I made the executive decision to do a site change...it was time anyway, so i thought let's just do it now. As I was pushing the little blue plunger on the cartridge preparing it to put the insulin in, I happened to notice that it was a bit more resistant to my pushes than normal. Well, I filed that away in my mind and for some reason continued on about my business of changing the site. I should have never ignored that little voice in my head...I should have given it a bullhorn and let it shout...because that split second occurance of my morning routine caused me an entire day of frustration. I should have listened...I shouldn't have filed it away. Emma was high ALL day long...not just a little bit high....a lot high...the entire day...i kept correcting, doing temp basal increases, drinking water, checking for ketones....over and over all day long. I changed the site once again...and still high. To make a long unpleasant story short...I phoned the nurse and changed the cartridge...new insulin...new everything...and I phoned Animas to troubleshoot the problem too. We all came to the conclusion that it must have been the cartridge...it was faulty...because it was so sticky and resistant to movement, Emma hadn't been getting any (or very little anyway) of her basal all day. Spectacular....Mother/pancreas of the Year award goes to...........NOT me!
The corrections started to work. The blood sugar came down...rapidly....scary. Emma felt nauseous...she was pale...dark circles under her eyes...she was scared again....feeling low. I was still keeping close eye on her blood sugars...and finally got them down where they belong. It was totally and completely exhausting for the both of us.
I hate moments like those...seeing her sit there in the bathroom leaning over the toilet...feeling awful...not from an actual tummy bug or virus...but because of diabetes. I could see that bastard diabetes monster standing right behind her....laughing through an evil smirk...cackling in it's horrific voice...mocking my child...pushing her and shoving her trying to beat her...glaring down upon her casting it's evil shadow over her small body. I could see it. It hurt my heart...it crushed me. I hate what it does to my daughter. I hate how it is always there...never leaving...stealing moments of her life that should be fun...moments that should be good...moments that should be specially saved for sweet kids like herself. I hate the never ending-ness of this. I like to think that I am a strong willed person. I like to think that I can do anything I set my mind to if I simply want it bad enough...but the never ending daunting day and night moment by moment, month after month, year after year...well sometimes it honestly just gets to me. I am allowed to feel this daunting negative emotion...I've earned that right over the past 3+ years. I know we came out of this round probably unscathed (although who knows what sort of damage was done to her body in the process...complications down the road will only tell if they do in fact occur). I know that the sun will come out again tomorrow. I know that it will be a new day and I can turn the page...close this chapter of today....yada yada yada....i know all of this. Howeverm at this moment in time...I just want to sit and wallow in my despair for a minute...soak it up...let it wash over me...letting me feel validated...letting me feel that any and all emotions I feel that are a result of my job as a pancreas to my child...that they are ok...it's ok for me to feel that way...it's ok for me to sit in this pool of mucky cloudy despair for right now. I know I will plant my feet firmly beneath me again eventually...I will stand back up...I will climb out...and I will begin again....but for now, I just need a minute to breathe it in.

Moment of clarity and accomplishment with Emma's teacher

I love those moments in time that give you the warm fuzzies...the feel good feelings...the stuff that makes you truly believe that all the hard work you are doing is actually paying off...actually making a difference. I was lucky enough to experience one of those moments today.
I brought Emma back to school after lunch and dropped her off on the playground to join her friends for the remainder of recess. Tomorrow is pizza day at her school and they will also be making one of their frequent visits to mass at the church tomorrow afternoon (Emma goes to a Catholic school)...so I walked inside to chat with the teacher about all of this to make sure we were on the same page as far as things go with all of the added activity tomorrow. Usually what I would do is come in to see how much of the pizza Emma had eaten and help her bolus correctly for it...and then I would drive her to the church as opposed to letting her walk with the school there because it is quite a hike and I am too paranoid of lows happening. It's just a plan that works best for us...so I wanted to make sure the teacher was on board with it this year. Anyway, we stood there talking about things and got everything squared away and I turned to head back out the door so she could finish up her lunch before the bell rang and the kids all headed back inside. She stopped me though and as I turned around to look at her, I noticed tears in her eyes. She told me that she had finished reading my book and she wanted to let me know that it really opened her eyes to this whole diabetes life that we live. She told me that she never knew how much those of us with healthy children...those of us with fully functioning pancreases take for granted. She told me that reading my book now and knowing Emma and her personality just totally hit her hard. She said that she really admired us and my strength as a Mom. She told me that the part I had written about sending Emma off to school every year and trying to trust a new stranger (teacher) with her life...just really got to her...it made her realize how difficult it must be. She continued to go on for a while pointing out certain parts of the book that got to her.
It was such an awesome feeling...incredible...it made me feel like I had accomplished something great. It made me feel like I had reached this seemingly lofty goal. It was honestly hard for me to hold back the tears while I was standing there hearing her talk about this. I think that alot of times I look at things in this diabetic life as being overwhelming and impossible at the time. I look at it as the majority of people will never truly get it unless they live it every day. It's hard to change a persons way of thinking and make them understand...seriously understand how stressful and intense diabetes can be. So when I was standing there in the school hallway...looking in this woman's eyes...seeing the feeling and emotion behind them...hearing her words...from one Mom to another...it meant the world to me. I felt like I won the battle today...and for that I am truly greatful.

My diabetes map

This is going to seem like I spend entirely too much time at Walmart....which i suppose that I really do to be honest...but in any case, I thought I would share something that happened yesterday. I had to run out and grab a couple of things from the store, so I dropped Emma back off at school after lunch and made my way over to Walmart. As I pulled into the parking lot, I started to think about our experience the other night...the scary low...the panic in Emma's eyes....and my heart began to pound once again even though she was not with me. I have written before about how I find it strange that since diabetes came into our lives, I can drive around town doing errands or going to our usual places, and it's sort of like a diabetes road map for me. I see the park where Emma went low and had to take a pause and drink juice. I see the McDonald's where she had a belly ache and tested and came up with a 26.1 BG....I see the public pool where she got a nasty stomach virus and almost got sick in the pool. Now I guess I can add Walmart parking lot to the map....add it on my list of diabetic memories around town. I wonder how long it will be before I stop doing that. Will I continue to add these points around town to the mental map that I carry around with me wherever I go until a cure is found?
This most recent addition to the map seems to be the most difficult one for me to handle though. Maybe because it's still so new...so recent...so scary. Will I always drive past that particular parking space and get that sick feeling of panic in my gut? Will my hands continue to shake...remembering...knowing that things could have ended completely differently than they actually did? Will the wave of nausea ever stop hitting me as I walk by that spot and know that we were trapped in that bubble of diabetic existance for a brief moment in time? Will I ever forget?
Even though I wish that I could forget, I think maybe it's a good thing that I probably won't...
Maybe that point on my diabetes mental map will serve a purpose. Maybe it will stick around to remind me of how lucky we are....how each moment in our lives together are fleeting and precious...how I need to recognize that horrible awful things could happen at any given moment and I need to accept that...but not let it run our lives...don't let it become the focus...don't let it ruin all of the other moments. Because those moments are what's most important...those moments are the bright shining neon lighted locations on my map.

A Simple answer

Next week Emma and I will be attending the JDRF Ride for diabetes research. It will actually be the first Ride event that we have attended, so I am excited to see what all goes on! Because Emma is one of this years youth ambassadors, they will be asking her to answer a few questions from the media that will be there covering the event. We received the questions ahead of time, just to kind of go over them and give her a chance to think about what her answers would be...which I think is a fabulous idea seeing as how she is only 7 years old...and I don't know about any of your kids...but 7 year olds tend to take a looooong time answering things and describing things and telling stories....it's a bit exhausting on my poor brain sometimes...but then I force myself to remember that I would choose this type of exhaustion ANYDAY over the exhaustion that comes with a type 1 diabetic being ill.
Anyhoo, one of the questions was "What would a cure mean to you?"....I asked Emma this while driving to her piano lesson tonight. I expected the usual big loooong drawn out answer full of uuuuh's and ummmm's. Instead I got this as an answer.....

"Mommy, it would mean the world to me!"....said in a total "DUH Mommy!" tone of voice.

Simple as that...it would mean the world to her. It would mean the world to all of us I know. As each day passes and we get closer and closer to that 4 year mark, this feeling in my stomach grows. It gets heavier and heavier...weighing me down...trying to break me and let the despair of the situation take over my spirit.

 The first year was most definitely the hardest for us so far. Everything is new, unfamiliar, and scary. I spent the majority of that first year hating diabetes. I hated what it had done to us. I hated how it had invaded my daughter's life. I hated how it was always there...taunting me...trying to make itself comfy in the forefront of my mind every single second of every single day...making me feel like I was losing my mind at points and making me feel like I was no longer able to simply have fun with my daughter. The second and third years passed with a tiny bit less of a sting. I was learning to let go of the hate...I was learning to recognize that the only way to make this work was to live....live our lives just like we did before diabetes moved in...live, have fun, learn, experience new things, laugh, cry, rejoice....just live. I was learning to not let diabetes get in the way. I was learning to make sure that it knew that it's place was no where near the forefront of my mind...that place was and is reserved for my child, my husband, my family. We've still got 9 months to go before we reach that 4 year mark. I think the thing that hurts the most for me to think about that day arriving is that it will mean that Emma will have had diabetes for half of her life.

I'll say it again.....half of her life....

That is going to be a hard one for me to swallow. Who knows though...maybe a cure will come before that day...it would mean the world to her...to me...to all of us.

I could have lost her

It was just your run of the mill average ordinary Friday. Emma went to school, came home, did the usual supper routine, and headed out to Walmart to pick up a few things. Just before we left I felt the exhaustion settling into my brain causing me to be a little more loopy than I normally am...I had only gotten about 4 hours sleep the night before (been struggling trying to get overnight basals good again...and we had to get up early to drive Shawn to work so I could have the car during the day to run some errands). In any case, I could feel it coming...the giggles, the craziness, the typical low feeling that I sometimes get (I'm actually hypoglycemic myself). Whenever I get this way Emma thinks it's hilarious and we usually wind up laughing like lunatics together having a great time. So, off we went to the store. On the way I had Emma check her BG just to make sure she wasn't low too because she was acting just as silly as me...she came out with a reasonable 9.9 (178)...I was ok with that because she had really just finished eating supper anyway. Well, we skip into the store and grab the usual juice, fruit snacks, and various other items that I always have on hand for low BG situations. We make our way up to the register to pay and Emma looks over at me from in front of the candy display and says to me "MOMMY, I think I'm looooow!" UGH...So I handed her the meter bag and she set up shop on that little shelf thing at the register that people would use to write checks back in the olden days...I mean seriously, who even writes checks at the store anymore? Not I anyway...it's all about the debit card in this house. Anyhoo...as she's checking, I go about my business of taking everything out of the cart and putting it up to be scanned. I happened to glance up and notice the cashier standing there...mouth hanging open...with a horrified look on her face. My first reaction was to giggle...because it was really ridiculous...she looked like she had just seen Emma performing open heart surgery at her register or something! So, I explained that my daughter has diabetes and she felt low so she was just checking her blood sugar...that seemed to calm her down a bit thankfully. Well, the meter informed us that she was 3.1....low...but not her lowest by any stretch of the imagination. So, I grabbed a thing of candy off the shelf and threw it at the cashier to scan and then gave it to Emma. She ate it no problem and we made our way to the parking lot and got in our car. I sat down and caught a glimpse of her in the rearview mirror. My heart raced up into my throat. I instantly began sweating and shivering all at the same time. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.
Emma was sitting there shaking uncontrollably...trying her hardest to focus all of her energy on eating the rest of the candy I had given her. The look on her face was like none I have ever seen. She was scared...terrified actually. I wanted to scoop her up in my arms and hold her as tight as I could and take that fear from her...take the shaking away...take the low feeling away...take the DAMNED diabetes away. It was the most helpless and lost feeling I have felt. Instead I ripped open my recently purchased food and gave her more...I gave her a fruit snack...opened the new orange juice container and had her take a couple swigs of it. We took it one bite at a time...I held the pieces for her and put each one in her mouth so she wouldn't have to contend with her shaking hands. I portrayed this calm and reassuring person on the outside just for her benefit...I wanted to exhude confidence...reassurance that she would be fine...she wasn't going to pass out...it would come back up and she would be just fine in no time at all. On the inside I was screaming and crying...praying...begging...shouting for help. Fear...fear that my child...my baby...my sweet, loving, and caring girl was going to pass out and have a seizure right here in the the car in the Walmart parking lot. I forced my eyes to leave her face for a second and they darted over to my purse...knowing the glucagon was in there if it came to that...my heart was pounding...praying that I wouldn't have to use it...sitting here in the car....at night...alone. I was praying that it wouldn't come to that. My mind was moving at lightening speed...trying to take in everything at once...fixing the low...saving my girl...searching out all of my tools for doing this...praying...begging for help...cursing this damned disease once again...cursing it for coming into our lives and causing such an enormous amount of stress and worry and terror in the most typical and ordinary of places...Walmart. All the while...my exterior was calm...relaxed...serene and reassuring...all for Emma...all for my sweet girl. There we were trapped inside this car...tucked away in the dark recesses of diabetes...fighting the good fight...battling the beast and hoping that this time we would still come out on top.

Well....we did....eventually...we won again. I wonder how many more times we will be lucky and win.

We went home and I spent the next 6 hours battling the most stubborn of highs. Was it a direct result of my overcorrecting her low? Was it her liver shooting out some stored glucagon to help the situation? Was it a combination of both? Who knows....who really cares.
All I know is we survived. We got the highs back down and survived. I wonder if the average person would think twice about the adventure in diabetes-land that could occur for a type 1 person just by simply making a run to a place as common as Walmart. I could have lost my daughter last night. I could have sat there in the drivers seat of my car in the dark parking lot and watched her slip away and leave me. Simple as that.  I don't know how any of us manage to still stand up straight at the end of the day after walking around with that amount of stress on our shoulders...the stress of keeping this amazing human being that we brought into this world alive every single second of every single day. It truly boggles my mind.

Random thoughts by Flo

So we found out the other day from reading a book in the pet store that when cats quickly move their paws back and forth in front of them on the floor that it is because they are happy...and it's called "making biscuits" lolol...i find this term very amusing for some reason.

Sometimes you just gotta sing...no matter where you are...who your with...what song it is...you just gotta let it out. For example, busting out with "Danka Shane" (or however the heck you spell it!) while standing in the kitchen buttering a biscuit (hehehehe...again with that word...biscuit!) for Emma is a perfect time to sing it.

I think they should make those little bouncy ball jumpy things that you sit on and bounce around on in grown up size...it's fun...Emma has one and I want one too.

They make scented nail polish now...how awesome is that?? I haven't purchased any yet though because I know that I would spend a whole lot of time sitting there smelling my own nails...and people would stare...and that would be awkward...

I hate when Emma is low. It scares me. It actually scared her tonight. She was afraid that she was going to pass out. I will post another post on this moment in our lives later I think...still a little shook up from it at the moment.

There are really only two places in this world that I am a teensy bit less nervous for Emma to be low at...#1 being the grocery store....because there is food all over the place...just grab it and eat. #2 being when we are out trick or treating...feeling low? just reach in your bag and munch away.

It is impossible to look cool when walking into the non-moving side of the automatic glass door of the pharmacy.Yep...walked right into it...good stuff

Getting only 4 hours of sleep makes it next to impossible to function like a normal human being all day.

The best dream I have ever had

I find myself thinking about the day a cure is found a lot these days. I don't know why really...I mean it's not like we are new to this necessarily...I've had a considerable amount of time to get this straight in my head...the whole patience thing...waiting...hoping...praying. Every so often though I do find that the thought of that day will creep it's way into my mind. I imagine myself sitting at home watching TV and hearing the news. I imagine sprinting to Emma's school to tell her. I imagine scooping her up in my arms and twirling her around and around not caring about the dizziness...feeling the layers of stress and anxiety fall off of my shoulders with each spin around. I imagine falling to the ground with her still in my arms as the world continues to spin by. I hold her face in my shaking hands and see the tears of pure and total joy falling from her eyes...I see the relief...the feeling of "FINALLY" wash over her in waves. I see my own face in her eyes...my tear streaked cheeks...bright red...flushed from the realization that this is finally here...the thing which I have dreamed about every single day and night...prayed for in the wee hours of the morning as I battled the unwelcome monster that moved in 3 years ago...the thing I have begged for with tears of anger and frustration in my eyes as I laid next to her during one illness or another. I see us looking at each other for the very first time...knowing it's over...knowing that we made it...we did it...we were more brave and more strong than we ever imagined we could be...we are better human beings for having fought this. We know what it's like...we know how it feels to not have a guarantee that we will see each other in the morning...we know how it feels to drag along all of the excess baggage (literal AND emotional) that is diabetes...we know how precious each moment is...not very many people are lucky enough to have that knowledge...to know how that feels...that will never leave us.
I can't wait to experience that day in the real reality of our lives. I can't wait for it to come true and occur instead of remain trapped inside my head taunting me...shouting at me from the sidelines that it's just a pipe dream...it's a nice dream...a nice scenario...but that is all it is...it will never happen in reality. Sometimes I feel like it's so close...so within my grasp that I can almost feel it...I can almost feel that embrace...touch those tears on her cheeks...it's right there...and then I blink and poof...it's gone once again.
Sometimes I stop myself from thinking of this dream...because it hurts too much when the reality sets back in. Sometimes I like to think of it anyway though...maybe I'm a glutton for punishment? Or maybe I'm just preparing myself for that day...preparing my heart...so that I will be able to handle the overload of joy and relief and actually live in the moment...relish it...hold onto it and never let go.
Either way...no matter how much it hurts to think of it....it's still the best dream I have ever had in my life.

Teamwork

So I'm convinced that this disease that we all live with every day requires a team effort. I'll admit before Emma was diagnosed, I was not one to ever be thought of as a control freak. I was (and still am for the most part) a laid back, go with the Flo, mellow person with a tendency to lean towards the procrastination side of life. So, it came to be quite a shock to my system to have to retrain my brain to become more organized and aware of time management and the "ordered" style of living/thinking. Anyway, I think I took it a little overboard right off the bat and became a bit of a control freak. I grabbed the bull by the horns and did every injection, every finger poke, every carb count, ratio, dosages....all of it...I had convinced myself that if I wasn't the one doing it that (A) it wouldn't be done right and (B) Emma would suffer because of it.
Well, as the years have passed I realized that I am not Superwoman...I'm not Wonder Woman...I'm just Amy...D-Momma extraordinaire. I do need help...I do need breaks...I do have to remember to take time for myself. I learned that old saying of "it takes a village" really is true. I have learned to look at things differently. I of course get that help from Shawn on a daily basis...but I also get help from the school staff and Emma's teacher (who is FINALLY on board with things as far as remembering to remind Emma to bolus goes! can I get a WOOT?!). I get help from local D-families that we met through JDRF. Emma gets help from friends who are there for here. Kids that look at her and see EMMA...not Emma with diabetes...not the girl who wears the pump...not the girl with the Mom who is always hanging around the school at some point or another....just EMMA. I get help from you all...the amazing friends I have made through the DOC.
It breaks my heart to hear about and read about the division that has been going on recently. I love reading all of your posts. It makes me feel like part of the village. I read of other Mom's sending their little ones off to school...stressed...frantic...worried...and I can relate. I read of other Mom's struggling with multiple other medical diagnosis going on and tears fall from my eyes because I wish I could help ease their burden and comfort them. I read of other Mom's walking alongside us on our path to a little more independence with the management of this disease being given to our kiddos...and I feel the same same...I feel grounded...I feel comforted. I could go on forever recalling all of your posts and how they make me feel. Basically I just want to put it out there that I created my blog because I like to write. It was and still is a bit like my own personal therapy sessions. I share my experiences not to get praise or sympathy...I share them because I hope that there is even a remote possibility that somewhere out there in the big bad world...there is a D-Mom...newly diagnosed or even an old pro, and she will read it and feel the bond. I hope that she will feel the same same and be comforted just like you all comfort me. That is why I post things that I write. I owe my friends in the DOC so much and am so greatful for you all. You all have saved my sanity on many an occasion and I hope to pay it forward. In my opinion, that is what's important and special about the DOC.

stick a fork in me...i'm done

WARNING: if you are going to judge me and my lack of happiness today, please read no further.

today was a hard day. emma's blood sugar numbers weren't horrific or anything...they were ok for the most part....simply ok...not spectacular...just ok. it was hard for other reasons relating to diabetes. i'm tired. i'm tired of feeling like a broken record. i'm tired of being tired. i'm tired of advocating. i'm tired of living in the land of numbers. carbs. blood sugars. time. i'm tired of staying up to make sure my kid will live through the night. i'm tired of my own voice sometimes. im tired of doctors. hospitals. insulin. pancreas. questions. loss. tired of trying to make people get it who will never get it. because they don't care. im tired of trying to make people care. im tired of thinking about fundraising. im tired of waiting for a cure. im tired of asking for help. im tired of feeling guilty for asking for help. im tired of the chaos that goes on inside my head. im tired of the noise. im tired of the effort it takes to slap that smile up on my face. im tired of pretending that im ok. im tired of making excuses for others inability to take this disease seriously. im tired of telling them its ok....i understand...you are busy too...im tired of being brushed off. im tired of faking it till i make it. im tired of forcing myself to accept this. im tired of pretending that it is all ok. that it will all be ok. im tired of judgement. im tired of feeling like i dont have the right to be mad once and a while..i believe i've earned that right. im tired of the expectations. im tired of ignorance. im tired of those that try to one up others. im tired of the elitist attitude of others. im tired of not being accepted in some cases. im tired of praying. im tired of the judgement. im tired of the judgement. im tired of the judgement. im tired of hoping. im tired of diabetes. im tired of the ignorance. im tired of the ignorance. im tired of the ignorance. im tired of being tired.

i just don't want to do it anymore.

my poetic therapy

We are here together for what we hope to be forever
when in reality it's more like an instant...
the blink of an eye.
I wake each morning simply to see your face
to watch you grow
to watch you learn
I try to teach you how to be good...to make a difference...to be uniquely you
Each breath I take, each beat of my heart...
each tear I shed, each burst of laughter that overcomes me...
it is all for you...because of you.
I try to let you live the life you were meant to live
try to make sure this disease that tries to overtake my mind...
does not overtake yours
With each morsel of food that goes into your mouth,
I calculate diabetes
With each playdate, school day, activity,
I worry diabetes
With each illness, emotional turmoil, stress,
I panic diabetes
With each fundraiser, Walk, news of research,
I hope diabetes
With each kiss goodbye, each goodnight hug, each wave and call of see you later,
I pray diabetes
I tip toe into your room many times at night
to watch you sleep, to watch your chest rise and fall with each sweet breath.
I check your blood sugar to make sure you are safe
I pray that the last kiss I gave you will not be the last
I pray that when I finally do lie my weary head down,
that you will awaken once again in the morning
I pray that you won't leave me in the night...
silently slip away
to fly above the clouds
free from needles, insulin pumps, and finger pokes.
I pray that my time with you will continue,
that we will not be separated...
that when I walk into your room with the rising sun...
I will find you smiling up at me once again...
eager to LIVE another day together.

Emotional mixture

Such a mix of emotions today...complete and total admiration and pride in my child for conquering her fears at gymnastics class today. Seeing the grin on her face and the light in her eyes as she came running towards me after class...sweaty, red faced, and shouting that she did it! I am in awe of what our diabetic kids do every day. It's incredible...they are made and wired differently than the average person...they have this deep fire in their belly that makes them fighters...it makes them strong and more brave than most adults...even when they are unsure and doubting their own abilities to succeed or make it through a difficult time. I am blessed to have the chance to witness this firey light within my own child on a daily basis. I look up to her and admire her. I am in awe of all our d-kiddos. They are amazing.

I am overwhelmingly heartbroken and saddened to hear of yet another loss in the diabetic community this weekend. I'm sure you have all heard about it as well. My heart aches for the mother...I don't know her...have never spoken to her...never met her online....and yet my heart weeps for her loss. Not simply because I know that it could very easily be any one of us in her place, but also because it has got to be the most gut wrenching, torturous, unimaginable pain that any one person could ever have to go through...to lose your own child.

Someone said something to me this week that really got to me. She told me that "many people live with diabetes...so I should dwell on the positive." It bothered me a lot. To all that know me...I mean really truly know me...they know that I am a very positive person. I usually have a smile on my face...i love to laugh. I never talk about diabetes in a negative way around Emma...or really anyone other than my Mom and my husband...and the occasional facebook status when I am having a rough time with things. However there is no denying the fact that a diabetic child could die at any moment...too much insulin, too little insulin, seizures, illnesses, ketones...so many variables. I wonder if people like this person who said this to me really comprehend the magnitude of stress that we as diabetic parents walk around with on our shoulders every minute of every day. I wonder if these same people really understand how much effort it takes to remain positive under all of that stress and worry. I wonder if they know how dark and sad and full of negativity and despair I could be if I let my guard down for one second and my attempt at positivity falters. Until you walk a mile in someone elses shoes...

The kindness of a friend

This school year has been different than the others so far. It's been a struggle when it comes to all things diabetes. I've been filled with stress, worry, and frustration. Emma was having a hard time remembering to bolus for her snacks...and the teacher was having a hard time reminding her to bolus.
One day after school, another Mom of a little girl in Emma's class asked me how things were going so far with the new teacher and diabetes. I let out a big sigh and explained to her my frustrations with the whole situation...told her how it was harder this year...how I'm trying to give Emma more independence when it comes to managing this and how I was having a hard time getting the teacher to help her with things like remembering to bolus at snack time. I felt bad for "dumping" it on this other Mom...because really I understand that it is my own problem and every one has their own problems in life...this particular Mom has 3 children under the age of 7 and she went back to school herself...so she has her plate full too...she has plenty of things going on and plenty of stress in her own life. It was nice though to be able to get it all out...and talk with someone and see them actually listen. Not that smile and nod fake kind of listening...where they really aren't hearing a single word you are saying...they just look at you with that "oh yea...you're the Mom dealing with diabetes...I don't know anything about that...so I'm just gonna pretend like I'm interested in what you're saying" look on their face. This Mom was actually listening to me...it felt nice.
Well, the next day when I picked Emma up from school at lunch time...she came walking out with a huge smile on her face and told me that her friend (the little girl of this particular Mom) had asked Emma that morning if she wanted her to help her remember to bolus for snacks. Tears stung my eyes and I instantly had that warm fuzzy feeling in my heart...you know the kind of feeling...the same one you get when you see a commercial on tv with an adorable baby...or fuzzy kittens...and something of the sort. Emma was so excited and so happy that her friend had offered to help. It made her feel special. It made her feel important and like she had people...kids her own age...willing to be there for her and help her. Sure, she gets help from Shawn and I every single day when it comes to her diabetes...but to get the offer of help from someone her own age...someone she plays with and laughs with on the playground...well, that just meant the world to her...and to me.
This small act of kindness and compassion left me smiling for the rest of the day...actually I'm still smiling. This life with diabetes is hard as we all know. There are dark and scary difficult times that leave us feeling helpless...hopeless...alone. So, when these little sparks of goodness in our lives come along....it makes it all the more sweet. It makes me realize that there really are people out there in the big bad world that care....people that love us...people that want to help us...people that want to see us succeed and are willing to help us get there. People that have plenty of their own things going on in their lives and they are still wanting to reach out and touch our lives...be there for us in any way they can...big or small. It's amazing and I am truly greatful to have a few of those people in our life.
Emma made a little certificate for this girl...an awesome friend certificate awarded to her...and we bought her a little halloween bear (this little girl's birthday is actually on Halloween!)...and Emma gave it to her this morning. I love seeing kids show kindness to one another. It makes me hopeful for the future...hopeful that my little girl will be ok and will have plenty of friends around to help her out and keep her safe...just as she will for them. They will make the world a better place...I believe that with my whole heart.

The Clawwwww!

What's the deal with those one touch test strips that we use with our animas ping? Why is it that everytime I open the bottle to take one out...like three or four of them are all stuck together. Like they have some sort of static cling thing going on. Maybe I need to put a little fabric softener sheet in there with them. Maybe they just like to stick together because they are a friendly bunch? Maybe they are too clingy? Maybe they have issues of their own and figure if they stick together, the odds of them being pulled out and being the chosen one will be less likely to happen? It sort of makes me think of the scene from Toy Story in Pizza Planet with the little alien toys in the claw machine....."the claaaawwww! I have been chosen! farewell my friends!"

That's all I got today....not in the mood to write about the past couple of days nonsense/stress/lack of concern from others/ignorance....maybe I will another day.

Stop what you are doing and simply laugh

Sometimes you just have to laugh....it can seem like absolutely nothing in the world is going your way..the whole one step forward two steps back scene is taking over. Everything you have planned for is not happening. Every attempt at preventing that worst case scenario is shot down. The diabetes world is closing in on you trying to knock you down and trample you in a stampede of BG checks, blood, carbs, and insulin. What can you do to make it through? What can you do to get up, dust yourself off, and take control again? What can you do to survive?

In my experience..............

Laugh

Yep...simply laugh...stop what you are doing, pause amidst the chaos of the craptastic day going on around you...take a deep giant sized breath and let out the biggest laugh you can muster. Laugh like you did when you were little. Laugh at the craziness you are having to deal with. Laugh at the fact that you have test strips out the wazoo falling out of your meter bag. Laugh at the fact that in your quest for loosening the reigns and giving more independence to your 7 year old...she has not only forgotten to bolus for morning snack at school....but ALSO afternoon snack. Laugh at the fact that for some reason even though she forgot to bolus for afternoon snack, that she still came in at a nice clean 8.9 BG come supper time. Laugh at the fact that you completely screwed up in the SWAG department for that hamburger bun she ate at the parents night BBQ at school. Laugh at the fact that she wound up with 1.65 units left on board and only had a BG of 6.2. Laugh that you got caught in the thunder and rain while trying to locate the piano teacher's new house out in the boonies. Laugh that everything in your day is seeming to come up smelling the total opposite of roses.

Laugh....laugh until it stops being stressful...laugh until your belly hurts and you can't breathe...simply laugh.

Know that the sun will rise again the next day. The rain will clear up. Your kid will actually listen to you (and your multitude of post-it notes all over her desk, snack bag, BG meter case, and notebook for recording BG's!) and finally remember to bolus for her snacks. She will get it. She will take a minute and a breath of her own...slow down...do each step and not rush through them just so she can get outside to recess...she will remember.
Most important of all, know that you are doing an amazing job. You are doing the best you can with the hand you were dealt. You will make it through to the other side of this path to independence. You and your kid will survive. You both will learn. You both will laugh together.

What a morning.....

This morning we are settling into our usual old familiar back into the swing of things routine with school and diabetes. Ever since Emma was in junior kindergarten, I have always gone into the classroom at school to change the needle on her lancet every other day....I know, i know...shame on me...I should have Emma change it every time after each poke...but honestly, I think that is a bit much...so we have stuck with our every other day plan instead. (really she only pokes her finger 2 times a day at school anyway, so it's not a ridiculous amount that I am having her reuse the needle.)
Anyway, I walked into the school and down the hallway to her class this morning...just like I have a million times before now. As we were walking, Emma was chattering away next to me (she is SO a morning person...I am not...in fact, I rarely speak at all until I have had my first cup of coffee)...and she mentions to me that a little girl that we know has her picture hanging up in the hallway behind us. Out of respect, I will refer to this girl as H. I assumed that she had done something nice at school and was being honored with her picture on the wall for everyone to see...so I didn't think anything of it really...I just said, "Oh that's so nice!" to Emma and went about the business of changing the lancet needle. As we walked back out of the school to go outside on the playground and wait for the bell to ring, I happened to glance up on the wall and see the picture of H that Emma was talking about. We stopped to read it...I saw that it was a fundraiser for this little girl...she was diagnosed with oral cancer this past May...my heart leaped up into my throat...I felt nauseous instantly...tears stung my eyes as I heard Emma read the poster aloud...as I heard my daughter ask me, "Mommy? it says that H has cancer? How come?" I felt like I was frozen in place...I couldn't make eye contact with Emma. I didn't want to see her wondering eyes...and try to explain to her sweet innocent self that yes...even kids get cancer...even people she knows can get cancer. Our family has known H for at least 10 years I believe...I have seen H grow up right before my eyes...I have seen her play outside on our street...ride her bike...laugh with friends...hug and reassure my daughter when she was about to start school...hug Emma when she was diagnosed with diabetes. She is an incredibly sweet girl. Her family are some of the nicest people I know. She is always showing up at my doorstep with bags of hand me down clothes of hers to give to Emma. She is such a sweetheart.
So, there I stood...wanting to avoid the questions from Emma...wanting to not steal away that part of her innocence already...wanting to say the right thing to her. Being a parent is hard. I took a breath and looked at Emma. I told her that yes it does say that H has cancer which is incredibly sad...but she is a strong otherwise healthy girl...and she is tough...she will be ok. I told Emma that if she sees H at school to give her a hug if she wanted to...but don't treat her or say anything differently to her...she is still the same H...she is just now dealing with something in her life that is difficult, but with good doctors and medicine and the support of friends and family...hopefully she will be ok.
What a morning....

My jumbled thoughts and wishes

Feeling a little overwhelmed today and just had to get it out...not sure if you would consider this a poem or just my random thoughts...either way, to me: it's....

what really matters

the love we have for each other
the warm feeling you get in your heart when you look upon your child
the hope
the overwhelming desire that they will grow up and one day make this world a better place
a safer place....a happier place...a free place
the feeling that takes over your body and forces that smile upon your face
when you see someone helping another
not because they have to...or feel obligated to...
simply because they want to
because it is the right thing to do
the look on your child's face as they are growing and understanding more of the world
seeing them look upon another,
one who is different...unusual...completely opposite of themselves in every way
and noticing the look turn to wonder...curiosity
not hate...not judgement...not a look filled with malice
wondering where and when the human spirit changes
and why we can't all hold onto that innocent acceptance forever
the capacity to be good...accepting...caring
it's boundless
all of the politicians, beaurocrats, powers that be...
need to take a moment...pause amidst the chaos and arguing
reflect
remember that childlike acceptance...innocence...
the world we live in could be so much better if they did
so while I sit here and wait
possibly forever...well past the moment I take my last breath on this Earth,
I turn my attention to what really matters...
my family...our health...our happiness...our acceptance of others...our willingness and desire to help,
our spirit....our bravery...our undying courage to keep trying
our love

What goes on inside my head

Today was the first gymnastics class that Emma has been to in 2 months. We took the summer off. It was only the 3rd time doing gymnastics on the pump...and the first 2 times were shortly after beginning pumping...so I don't truly count those....I had no idea what I was doing at all...I was winging it big time and flying by the seat of my pants giving a one two kung fu punch at each daily obstacle that dared to cross our paths and mess with our first few baby steps on the pumping path. To give all of you not living with diabetes in your lives a little perspective as to what flies through the parent of a diabetic child's mind while embarking on something like this...I thought I would share all of the thoughts crashing around in my brain on the 10 minute car ride to gymnastics today. For those of you who do deal with diabetes in your life...I am sure you can all relate to most of the thoughts yourselves...at least I hope that I am not alone in this crazy thought experience...lol...maybe i am just a dramatic crazy Momma...I honestly don't think so though. Anyway, here goes.....

I drove to class nervous beyond all belief. Emma happily chattered away in the back seat munching on a pre-class snack that I made her half-bolus for out of fear of lows occuring. Her voice sounded to me like Charlie Brown's teacher honestly. I knew she was talking to me...jibber jabbering away...excited to get back to the gym after the long summer break. I used all of my focus to concentrate on driving...thoughts of should i not have bolused for that snack at all? should i start a temp basal now? should i wait till we get there? will she be low? will she make it to the halfway point break for a snack (class is 2 hours long)? Will she like her new coach? will she have a good time? I wish she would stop getting all excited and jittery cause I am sure that's affecting her BG...I wish she would sit still and not expend any energy at all...lol...but i know thats wrong to expect that of her...shes 7...shes a kid. will she go low? will she recognize it? will i spot it from all the way across the gym through the viewing window while standing in the hallway? can we do this? can I do this? can i give her this experience that she loves so dearly and make it as normal as possible for her without D getting in the way? will she go low? will she go low? will she go low? will she pass out? will she have a seizure? will the coaches have to run across the gym as she is collapsing in a pile of LOW-ness on the gym floor so they can reach me and call 911? will i be able to use the glucagon if need be? will i be shaking to horribly to get the job done to save her life? will she go low? oh God, please don't let her go low...please let her be ok...please let me spot the low if you have to make it happen here...please let her be ok...please don't let her go low...please let her enjoy this thing that she loves just like all of the other kids out there...please don't let D get in the way and screw things up. I will do anything to make this happen...please don't let her go low....please let her be ok...

We arrived at the gym. She went in. I stood at the window for roughly 2 hours staring at her face as she ran, climbed, swung on the bars, did tricks on the balance beam, jumped on the trampoline, and so much more. I wished for binoculars when she was all the way on the other side of the gym. I wondered if her college aged coach was really paying attention to spot lows. I wondered if she was too distracted with the other kids. I wondered if I would have to ring her neck if something bad happened and she didn't allow Emma to stop what she was doing to come out for a BG check. I stared at the coaches face...willing her to understand the gravity of what could happen with diabetes and intense activity. I stared at Emma's face searching for anything unusual...paleness...dark circles under her eyes...lethargic...any sign of a low. I know that face so well...I have stared at her beautiful little face for 7 years now. I know every freckle, every expression, every look she gives...I know her.
At the end of the two hours, we went through 47 carbs...only bolused for 9 of them...and a -20% temp basal for the entire time....and she walked out of the gym at a 6.8. I was just as exhausted as she was. I felt like I had just gone a few rounds with Mike Tyson...but we did it...we walked out of there into the bright sunshine...hand in hand...victorious once again.

The icing on the cupcake of our amazing day!

When things are good they are truly GOOD. I would like to not only hang on to these fleeting moments in time, but try to imprint them in my memory so that I can recall them...go back to them during some of those dark and scary times with diabetes. I would like to sit back during the wee hours of the morning and recall them just so I can remember that things aren't always bad...they aren't always scary...there are times when we are in control of this disease and WE are the ones running the show.
The past few days have been nothing short of incredible. We had a bit of a hiccup on the first day of school with some stubborn lows in the afternoon that carried on through to the evening...but other than that, Emma and I have been kicking some major booty in the diabetes/blood sugar department. We also happened to have her 3 month clinic appointment on Wednesday. I was nervous...just like we all have a tendency to get before clinic time. I was sitting there waiting for the judgement (all self-inflicted by the way). I was waiting for the a1C results...and of course putting too much emphasis and importance on that number. I know I shouldn't...I know it really is not a reflection of the effort I put in. Trust me...I stay up all hours of the night, I check blood sugars frequently, I run myself ragged on a daily basis trying to gain control of it and be the front runner in this race with diabetes. Like I have mentioned before though...I have gotten quite good at pacing myself. Anyway, the nurse pulled up our records on the computer screen and got me to stand in front of it. She pointed out our past a1C results since Emma was diagnosed...none of them were spectacular...in fact the last one was downright horrible...I was embarassed and for some reason ashamed of that darn number...it was like standing there getting the results back from an exam I took in high school...and seeing a big fat "F" staring back at me. (not that I ever got "F's" in high school...lol...I was a good kid...I was smart...until I grew  up and had diabetes move in and steal my sleep which causes me to be less than smart on a good day now! LOL!). Anyway, the nurse got a huge grin on her face and pointed on the computer screen to show me our last result...it was 7.7...my jaw hit the floor...I was beyond happy...I was elated! I know this might not seem like a good a1C number to some of you...but this is the lowest one we have ever gotten...so I was incredibly proud of that number! The nurse could not have been happier either with our progress...she couldn't stop smiling...I couldn't stop smiling...and Emma sat there looking at us like we were a couple of loons because she didn't understand what was going on...it was awesome. I have had so many unpleasant experiences in that little nurse's office...first injection on diagnoses day, tears, screams from Emma when we first tried to show her the pump at 5 years old, fear on my part, despair. That room is the background for so many terrible memory photos in my mind...so when this moment came along, I made sure to grab it...hold onto it for dear life and put it on top of my pile of mental images. Score one for the D-Momma's...score a big fat ZERO..nothing...NADA for diabetes!! I am so beyond proud of us!!!
The icing on the sweet delicious cupcake that was our day? The parking garage meter was broken...so I didn't have to even pay for parking at the hospital.

Driving, Foo Fighting, and Independence

As I was driving home from the store just a bit ago, rocking out in the car all by myself to some Foo Fighters "I'm learning to walk again! I believe I've waited long enough...where do I begiiiiinnn?", my thoughts as usual turned to Emma and diabetes. Immediately I stopped singing along and chair dancing...and the tears burned my eyes threatening to spill over if I let them. I realized that I spend the majority of my "diabetes/Emma" thought time dedicated to thinking about the logistics of it all, the prevention of worst case scenarios, and how it makes me feel...how exhausted I am most of the time...how the sadness and depression can slip in at any moment when I least expect it...the sometimes overwhelming urgent firey feeling in my gut of how I wish that I could make those in our lives fully and completely understand the seriousness and gravity of this disease. It's constantly swirling around inside me...inside my head...inside my heart. I have gotten good at drowning out those ugly feelings and thoughts over the years. I've built up a serious strength inside myself because of diabetes.
However, I began to think about how much this disease affects Emma in her day to day life. Don't get me wrong...I do care about how she feels tremendously...more than my own feelings to be honest. I have always been one to put others wants, needs, and feelings ahead of my own...and that just goes double for my child...but sometimes I think I get so caught up in the day to day-ness of it all that I lose sight of how she handles it all every day. Starting 2nd grade this week, I have realized the whole importance of her independence with this. I'm learning to walk again...I'm learning to release some of this burden and lifestyle and give a little bit of it to her. It's scary and it honestly freaks me out...but I will do it...I know I will...because I have to...it will benefit her in the long run.
Anyway, I have to remember the emotional side of it for her too. On the night before the first day of school I was talking to Emma about what to do if she feels low at recess time. The whole...find an adult, go inside school, eat a "low snack", check BG" scenario. Just to share some of the "worst case scenario" situations I think of with her, I then asked her what she would do if in fact she couldn't find an adult she knew. She said she would tell them that she is diabetic and she feels low and needs to go inside. So I asked her what she would do if then this unfamiliar adult on the playground told her that it was ok...to just go sit down and relax and they would go in soon. Emma didn't know what to do then. She had a look of complete and total fear in her eyes. It broke my heart. I emphasized to her that if this worst case scenario happened, that she would need to go sit down and eat the fruit snack I stuffed into her pump pouch...and if anyone had a problem with her eating to or gave her trouble (they aren't allowed to eat on the playground at her school)...then to just keep eating it...don't listen to them...I would deal with any issues once she got back in and told her teacher she was low and the teacher calls me. I tried to stress to her that her health comes first above all else. If she's low and people aren't listening to her or taking the appropriate actions to help her...that she needs to eat...she needs to do it herself...regardless of if she were to get in trouble or not. (getting in trouble or getting yelled at is the WORST thing in Emma's eyes) I wasn't trying to scare her or worry her...I just wanted her to understand that basically...shit happens in this life with diabetes...and if no one else is listening...she needs to know that she can always count on herself. I hope I did the right thing. I hope I didn't scar her by sharing this bit of information with her. She is only 7. She seemed ok with it all and even giggled a bit at the thought of me giving the school a piece of my mind if something like this ever happened. I know that the odds of it actually happening are slim to none...it's a small school and everyone knows Emma and that she is diabetic...but you never know...shit can happen. One small step in educating my kid about what is truly important in her life I suppose....learning to walk again...so very true for us today.

Standing at a crossroads

So the first day of 2nd grade went pretty well thankfully. Emma's blood sugar #'s stayed good all day...until she walked out the door as the bell rang this afternoon. I was standing there chatting with some parents and expecting her to come running out full force smiling like her usual self and talking a mile a minute about her day. Instead I stood there watching the kids walk out the doors and caught sight of Emma...her face was pale...dark circles under her eyes...she was trudging along towards me...no smile in sight. I knew instantly...she was low. I didn't even bother checking her actual blood sugar with the meter...instead I pulled out my packet of fruit snacks and handed her 3/4 of the contents. My stomach was in knots standing there wondering how long she had been low...how low she had gotten...how she had not mentioned it to the teacher because she hadn't felt low...how the teacher hadn't noticed anything wrong or suspicious on her appearance. To make a long story short, she was ok...as we walked home once she finished her fruit snack, I checked her and she was still low...which sent a pang of fear once again coursing through my heart wondering just how low she had actually been.
Anyway, I've once again lowered her basals and insulin to carb ratios and hopefully I can avoid any problems tomorrow. I've got a plan of action in my mind...I talked to the teacher on the phone and asked her to get Emma to do an extra afternoon BG check just before school gets out to make sure all is good. I will also be talking to Emma about how when she tests herself if it is a number on the lower end of target...that she needs to recognize that it could very well drop...or already BE dropping at that point, so she needs to check again after eating to make sure things are moving up.
I'm finding this year to be sort of a turning point for us. It's our 4th school year with diabetes. We are by no means experts (who is really?). Emma is now 7 years old and is more mature, more responsible, and more aware of how her body acts. I feel like I am standing at a crossroads though. I look to my left and it is a twisted and windy gravel highway...I can't see around the corner...I can't see what's ahead...it makes me nervous. It's seems scary and makes me feel lost and worried. I look to my right and I see the old familiar, paved, straight through, well-lit neighbourhood road. The same road that I have been travelling on daily for the past three years. It's familiar...it's not easy to see what's ahead all the time...but it's comforting and what I am used to. I'm standing there trying to decide which way to turn. I want to hang a right and keep going on our normal route. I want to stick with what I know...but I can't...I know it's not the right decision...I know that I need to take a chance on hanging a left. I need to pull up my big girl panties and take a leap of faith and put on my left turn signal and just go. I need to let Emma have more responsibility in her diabetes. I need to teach her more of the things I just do...the things that are almost like instinct to me now. I need to let her help me hold the steering wheel. I need to to let her be my co-pilot on this journey. It's hard to think of things like this. I know it's the right thing to do. I know I can trust her with more. She's a smart girl...responsible...more than capable. I need to wrap my head around the fact that she is no longer that little 4 year old girl afraid of needles and never really sure of when she is low.
I would by no means ever force her or make her manage her diabetes on her own at this age...she is only 7...but I think it's time to turn left and give her a little bit more...trust, responsibility, and knowledge. As I am writing this, I'm actually sitting here smiling thinking about how nice it will be to have her sometimes sitting in the front seat with me on this ride...instead of way in the back. It will be nice to think of her and I as more of a team than ever before in managing this. I think we need some team jerseys.

Here's to 2nd grade!

Well, it's that time of year again...the night before school starts to be exact. This will be our 4th year doing this with diabetes along for the ride. Junior kindergarten was insane and I can't believe I made it through that period of time...Emma was diagnosed just two months before starting school that year. Thankfully the teacher was amazing and we learned right along with her. Senior kindergarten was probably the easiest by far because Emma had the exact same teacher! She knew Emma...she knew the ins and outs of diabetes...she knew what Emma looked like when she was low and she knew what to do to manage it. First grade was a bit scary because it was a new teacher and we had to start from square one in teaching her about diabetes. She turned out to be fantastic though and she played a huge role in helping me make the decision to start Emma on the pump last May instead of waiting until school got out for the summer to start. That brings us to 2nd grade...tomorrow. Once again I am feeling those old familiar scared and worried feelings. I know we all go through it...the fear of kissing our kids goodbye in the morning and praying that it won't be the last time we ever kiss them. Telling them we love them and to have a good day..watching them run off to join their friends in line as they giggle and chat about what they did over the summer. Staring at their sweet faces and having that inner plea/begging/coversation with God (or whoever you believe in) to please keep them safe, no lows, no major catastrophes, to keep them alive...so we can see their beautiful faces once again at the end of the school day. I have lived through some pretty difficult things in my life...stressful things...things that have frightened me to the core of my being...but I can honestly say that there is really no fear that compares to sending your diabetic kid off to school that first day. Handing them over to a virtual stranger and hoping that you have instructed them well enough...sent along enough information sheets...educated them enough about the disease so that they will know what to do...what to keep an eye out for...to keep your kid alive for the day. It makes my heart hurt. It makes every bone in my body ache. It makes my head swim with thoughts of the worst case scenarios and what I can do to prevent them or fix them if they occur. It's hard to be a parent. No one tells you that when you are young and in love and want to create a family of your very own.
It's even harder to parent a child with type 1 diabetes. Aside from the day to day battles and worries...it's the fear that threatens to take over my whole spirit if I let it.
Here's to a good first day with no lows...no emergencies...no issues. Here's to a good first day with diabetes taking a back seat and hanging out in the corner wearing the dunce cap and leaving my kid alone to enjoy a special moment in her life...just like the rest of her class...a good first day of 2nd grade.
Here's to me waking up on time and not making her late for said first day of 2nd grade too. :o)

Even though...

Sometimes, even though I know that there are a million others out there living basically carbon copies of my own life...
Even though I know in my head that I am not alone...
Even though I joke and laugh and am the queen of sarcasm...
Even though I feel like I am annoying some people in my life who don't live this way if I happen to talk about diabetes a bit too much...or for a bit too long in the conversation...
Even though I get it...
I get the hugs, the smiles, the looks of support...
Even though I try my best not to get trapped inside my own head
Lost in the hurricane of stress and worry...swirling around me...dizzying my thoughts...my feelings...
Even though I pretend like I am ok...by plastering on my best Vanna White smile...
Even though I have a loving family...and some incredible friends...some of which do actually live this life too....
Even though I have all of this in my life
Even though I grab onto this and hold on for dear life sometimes...
Even though I have fallen...many times in the past 3 years...fallen flat on my face...bruised and broken...afraid and weary...lost and scared
Even though I know these things will pass...I know we will be ok...we will make it...we will survive...some people do actually care...some people do actually want to help us succeed...
Even though I KNOW all of these things....
I still struggle with feeling alone...different...on the outside looking in...

Serenity Now!!

Ever since I was little, I was never and fan of math...or numbers...or anything of the sort. I have always been a "word" girl. I love the creative side of life. So, I find it quite ironic that I now have to deal with math on a daily basis. Counting carbs in the food that goes in Emma's mouth, figuring out insulin to carb ratios, basal settings, insulin on board...it's enough to make my poor math hating brain scream "Serenity now!" a la George Costanza from Seinfeld.
Anyway, it has me thinking though...why do we put so much emphasis and concern into the NUMBER? Why do we have a tendency to beat ourselves up when the meter shows us a number that isn't really what we were hoping for or expecting? Why do we feel like we have failed the proverbial mid-term when we get a higher a1C test result? It's enough to bring on the "serenity now!" mantra again. I don't enjoy putting so much emphasis on a number. I don't want to give it that much power over me. I don't want to put this added pressure on myself to get that perfect number when I know that there is no such thing as perfection and I will never achieve it. It's like a constant never ending set up for failure...and it makes it all the more pain-in-the-ass-ish because I KNOW that I will never reach that perfect number combination and yet I still expect to. I must be a glutten for punishment, because really....who else does that? Who would knowingly hop on board the setting yourself up for failure and disappointement train every single day?...ugh...it's ridiculous.
I find myself wanting to hide the result the meter shows me when we are out in public. I don't want to see the judging eyes or hear myself sputter out an explanation (wild ass guess) on why this particular non-perfect number appeared. I don't hide it because I am embarassed or ashamed of my failure at perfection...I don't hide it at all really...I just sometimes want to hide it to avoid that whole 10 seconds of explanation.
To make a long story short....Numbers, my friend? not really...never have been...never will be