So today is the last day of Diabetes Awareness Month. I sit here wondering if I did enough...if I shared enough...if I advocated enough. When is enough actually enough though when it comes to being the parent of a type 1 diabetic? Is that even a possibility? Are we even capable of throwing down that word "enough" and actually meaning it?
I don't know about any of you, but I know for certain that I have said on more than one occasion that "I'm DONE!"...."I just can't do this anymore!"...."I can't handle it!" I say it out of anger, frustration, exhaustion. I say it and at the time I suppose that I do mean it...but deep down in my heart, even as the words are falling from my lips...I know that I could never mean it. There is never going to be an enough is enough reality for me. I don't have the option to hang up my towel. I don't have the luxury of taking a break and handing over the reins to someone else for a while. Reality is honestly diabetes in the boxing ring with me on a daily basis. It is a never ending match. We go round after round...fists up and jaws clenched as we each await the inevitable blow thrown by the other. We each win a few rounds...but the damn bell keeps clanging and the ridiculous girl in the pancreas print bikini continues to walk around the ring holding up the sign to show the round number.
I will remain in that ring until my dying days or until a cure is found. I will keep going...keep relying on my spirit and the love I have for my daughter. I will draw upon my stubborn attitude and my inability to accept defeat. I will use that fire and continue to get back up on my feet and attack diabetes with a vengeance every single day.
So as this month comes to an end, I would just like to leave you with one thought...
Diabetes will continue to be in our lives...our friends lives...millions of other people's lives...every single day even after today is over. When you wake in the morning and change your calendar over to December 1st, know that there is a bleary eyed Mom of a diabetic stumbling about in her kitchen trying to get the coffee brewing and shake the exhaustion off long enough to be able to put a test strip in their child's blood sugar meter. She will make her way to her child, jab a needle into their finger tips that are calloused and scarred so she can squeeze out a droplet of blood to find out what blood sugar number she is going to have to deal with that morning. She is drawing on her own strength and beginning her next round in the ring with diabetes. As you sit down to eat your lunch tomorrow, know that there is another Mom or Dad of a diabetic out there trying to flag down a restaurant employee to get a copy of their nutrition guide so she can know how many carbs are in the food her child is so anxiously waiting to eat. The child that is hungry...watching their friends sit there and dig in to their food without a second thought...and he has to wait....for yet another needle in the finger...and a needle of insulin to take care of the food they will eat. As you sit down at your afternoon meeting, know that there is a type 1 individual who has been so busy with their day at work as well, that they haven't had a chance to grab an afternoon snack...and now they can feel the nausea coming on...the cold sweats...their hands are shaking uncontrollably...their heart is racing...they are seeing spots and are on the verge of passing out and having a hypoglycemic seizure. All because they were just trying to get their work done for a meeting...just like you...and they forgot to eat a snack. As you tuck your child into bed at night and kiss them on the forehead...tell them goodnight and see you in the morning....know that there is a parent of a type 1 diabetic child somewhere out there in the world who is doing the same thing. However, she feels like a fraud when she says "see you in the morning"....she can never say those words with 100% certainty like you can, because her child is type 1 diabetic. No matter how late she stays up to check their blood sugar, no matter how many times she sets her alarm for 3am to check it..........there is always the chance that her child could die in the middle of the night. They could die.....simply because they had a low blood sugar....because they are type 1 diabetic. That parent could wake up in the morning and walk in their child's room and find their baby dead.
dead.
gone forever.
She will never get to kiss her or hug her or hear her sweet voice. She will never make her dinner, play at the park with her, take her to the movies, play a game with her. She will never see her grow up, get married, have kids of her own. Instead she will have had her heart ripped from her chest....because diabetes stole her child from her while she slept in a moment of exhaustion.
Please don't let the end of this month signify the end of your concern or curiosity about this disease. My life is a never ending Diabetes Awareness Month.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
Monday, November 28, 2011
How long can you do it? (A poem read best with a British accent)
Just wanted to share that I think I am a little sleep-deprived today...ok I KNOW I am a little sleep-deprived today...lol...because as I was writing this poem I was actually reading it out loud to myself using my best British accent....sounds much better that way, so feel free to try it out yourselves and let me know what you think...lol
How long can you do it?
How long do you think?
Through the valleys of the nights that are black
and the peaks of the days that are pink.
How long can you do it?
How long do you think?
To shoulder that responsibility
to carry that to the brink.
How long can you do it?
How long do you think?
Before the guilt, the strain, the weight
sends you plummeting into the drink.
How long can you do it?
How long do you think?
Wearing your mask of illusion,
your disguise with a wink.
How long can you do it?
How long do you think?
Climbing that ladder to hope
grasping hold of every link.
How long can you do it?
How long do you think?
Before your arms weaken
and your soul begins to sink.
Forever and a lifetime,
To the stars and beyond,
I will carry this weight
because I am your Mom.
How long can you do it?
How long do you think?
Through the valleys of the nights that are black
and the peaks of the days that are pink.
How long can you do it?
How long do you think?
To shoulder that responsibility
to carry that to the brink.
How long can you do it?
How long do you think?
Before the guilt, the strain, the weight
sends you plummeting into the drink.
How long can you do it?
How long do you think?
Wearing your mask of illusion,
your disguise with a wink.
How long can you do it?
How long do you think?
Climbing that ladder to hope
grasping hold of every link.
How long can you do it?
How long do you think?
Before your arms weaken
and your soul begins to sink.
Forever and a lifetime,
To the stars and beyond,
I will carry this weight
because I am your Mom.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
The true spirit of a D-Momma
Honestly...what is right and what is wrong? There is a plethora (LOVE that word, by the way...one of my all time favorites) of options and choices and decisions and outcomes in this diabetic life. There is nothing black and white...nothing for certain...nothing that you can place your bets on. This is one thing that I have learned in the past 3 1/2 years...how to be ok (or at least accepting of) the fact that no matter how hard I try, no matter how certain I am that things will go a specific way...it's not always the case. I can feed Emma the exact same food at the exact same time every single day for a week....and she will have a different blood sugar 2 hours later every single time. Sure, I have gotten it as close to the same as I could ever possibly get it...but there is still always that curve ball that diabetes throws in there to throw the averages out of whack! Diabetes is an uncertain, sometimes pure fickle bastard, that does what it wants when it wants. We are merely supporting actors along for the ride. No matter how much I try to deny it, no matter how I try to make it not so, no matter how often I put on the confident face and the brave kickin booty attitude....I still know that deep down diabetes is shoving me out of the way and stealing my lines...stealing the spotlight. It is a constant battle...every single second of every single day. I think that is probably one of the biggest things that the majority of people in the world are unaware of. Diabetes isn't just merely a food/exercise related disease. It's not about staying away from sugary foods or taking the stairs to the office instead of the elevator. It's about the fine art of balancing an insane amount of factors for every single decision that we make every day. Blood sugars are affected by things like food, insulin, the weather, mood, stress, activity, illnesses like the common cold, growth spurts, excitement, fear, school, inactivity, changes in the normal daily routine, everything....absolutely everything affects blood sugars. It is up to the parent of a diabetic to learn how to become as good a juggler as possible to keep all of those factors up in the air at the same time and find that rhythm...that sweet spot (no pun intended) where everything is balancing out and flowing smoothly from one hand to the next. It's a lofty goal...certainly unattainable for most, if not all of us. Yet, we keep trying...we keep striving to become better and better at that juggling act...reaching for the stars and seeking that sweet spot...even though we know that diabetes most certainly will never let us find that spot and get comfy there for long. But oh...the satisfaction and the pride we feel while we are lucky enough to be in that spot for the moment we are actually there....it's priceless...it gives us that much more strength and drive to get back there again.
I suppose I don't really have a huge point to this blog post...other than I wanted to put it out there to all of those who might be reading this that are not aware of the amount of factors involved in the management of this disease. It's an extremely difficult task that we endure every day for our kids. We do our best. We get good results...and bad results...and we move on to the next number...the next moment...the next juggling act. It's all we can do...because really at this point, it's all we know.
So, next time you run into a friend that happens to be a parent of a diabetic...try to ignore the dark circles under their eyes from lack of sleep (they've been up all night juggling and trying to find that balance). Give them a hug, tell them that you think they are doing a great job. You will probably see a deep honest gratitude in their eyes. You will probably also see a sparkle in their eyes that is merely a renewed strength they are finding to make it through the rest of their day...a strength found simply because you have shown them they can count on you for encouragement. Karma is a real thing and I know for certain that any D-Mom out there would be the first to show up on your doorstep in your own time of need...because she knows...she cares...she gets it.
I suppose I don't really have a huge point to this blog post...other than I wanted to put it out there to all of those who might be reading this that are not aware of the amount of factors involved in the management of this disease. It's an extremely difficult task that we endure every day for our kids. We do our best. We get good results...and bad results...and we move on to the next number...the next moment...the next juggling act. It's all we can do...because really at this point, it's all we know.
So, next time you run into a friend that happens to be a parent of a diabetic...try to ignore the dark circles under their eyes from lack of sleep (they've been up all night juggling and trying to find that balance). Give them a hug, tell them that you think they are doing a great job. You will probably see a deep honest gratitude in their eyes. You will probably also see a sparkle in their eyes that is merely a renewed strength they are finding to make it through the rest of their day...a strength found simply because you have shown them they can count on you for encouragement. Karma is a real thing and I know for certain that any D-Mom out there would be the first to show up on your doorstep in your own time of need...because she knows...she cares...she gets it.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Interview with a 7 year old
Thought we'd try something new this time and post a link to a video taped interview I did with Emma tonight. For some reason I can't get the video to load on this post...so here is a link to it on youtube. Hope you like it!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kqfmgb0gsL0
I also apologize in advance because the audio is not quite in sync with the video...yea...i'm not smart enough to figure out how to fix this...lol
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kqfmgb0gsL0
I also apologize in advance because the audio is not quite in sync with the video...yea...i'm not smart enough to figure out how to fix this...lol
Friday, November 25, 2011
Poem for the warriors in us all
The battle cry of the cold and broken
the lost and scared
the fearful unspoken.
It rings true through the land
desolate and free
amidst the swirling sand
disguising thee.
We gather as one at the top of the hill
arm and arm we stand tall
one body, one spirit, one wish, one will.
Race towards the unknown
determined to win
bodies tensed, fire in our eyes, never alone
for we are now kin.
Feet pounding below us threatening to sink
your sand trying to swallow,
push us to the brink.
The rush of the fight
the puzzle complete
we no longer have fright
victory will be sweet.
Try as you may,
you will never defeat
for we are as one this day
we can not be beat!
the lost and scared
the fearful unspoken.
It rings true through the land
desolate and free
amidst the swirling sand
disguising thee.
We gather as one at the top of the hill
arm and arm we stand tall
one body, one spirit, one wish, one will.
Race towards the unknown
determined to win
bodies tensed, fire in our eyes, never alone
for we are now kin.
Feet pounding below us threatening to sink
your sand trying to swallow,
push us to the brink.
The rush of the fight
the puzzle complete
we no longer have fright
victory will be sweet.
Try as you may,
you will never defeat
for we are as one this day
we can not be beat!
After all that we've been through
After all that we've been through,
after all that we've done
I could not defeat you
I could not have won.
You've made me who I am today
I hate to admit it, through your sly ways
I am brave, strong, and able to say
I can, I will, I must go on.
After all that we've seen,
after all that we've heard
you were right there beside me
like a small delicate bird.
Wings fluttering through the air,
keeping time with the beat deep inside my chest.
Forgetting all the rest
Soaring through the trees above
You've made me realize
that I am loved.
After all that we've been through
after all that we've done,
you are my hero
you are the one.
after all that we've done
I could not defeat you
I could not have won.
You've made me who I am today
I hate to admit it, through your sly ways
I am brave, strong, and able to say
I can, I will, I must go on.
After all that we've seen,
after all that we've heard
you were right there beside me
like a small delicate bird.
Wings fluttering through the air,
keeping time with the beat deep inside my chest.
Forgetting all the rest
Soaring through the trees above
You've made me realize
that I am loved.
After all that we've been through
after all that we've done,
you are my hero
you are the one.
Thursday, November 24, 2011
Learning to let her fight some of her own battles
I learned a very important lesson today in the diabetes department as well as the parenting department. It's kind of funny how those two departments seem to go hand in hand more often than not...sort of depressing if I think about it too hard. Anyway, I picked Emma up from school for lunch today and as we were walking back to the car...she proceeded to tell me about an incident at morning recess. For those of you with school aged children, I'm quite sure you have experienced the similar stories from your kids...so and so picked on me...or so and so wouldn't play with me...or so and so wouldn't let me have a turn on the monkey bars. So, I basically kept walking along expecting to hear a version of one of the above typical stories from her. Instead I was met with a story that left me feeling like my blood was literally on fire. Emma said that a boy in the grade above her had just found out today that she has diabetes...which that in and of itself was a little strange because she has known this particular boy for over a year now. Anyhoo, she said that as soon as he found out he instantly backed away from her thinking that it was contagious. He was running just out of arms reach of her and shouting, "stay away from me! I don't want to catch your diabetes!" First of all, I understand that kids can be cruel. They can bully, pick on each other, be rude, call names, and just be downright mean...for no particular reason...just because they want to be. I know this. I went to school myself. I'm not naive in that at all. I knew that at one point or another Emma would encounter some form of ignorance or bullying in regards to her diabetes. I had tried to brace myself and prepare myself for the conversation I would have with her once this did occur. I had the script all laid out in my mind and I was ready to open my mouth and let these amazing words fly and instantly make her feel better...feel safe...understand the way of the world and how human nature can sometimes be nasty. Well, it all flew right out the window in that moment. I wanted to cry for her. I wanted to abruptly turn around and march right back into the school and demand to see the principal. I wanted to shout at her and let her know how kids at her school were behaving...especially seeing as how they had JUST recently had a bullying awareness assembly not that long ago. I wanted to storm into this little boys classroom and yell at him. I wanted to explain to him that you CAN'T catch diabetes! You CAN'T get it by touching Emma! So STOP being such an ignorant ass and be nice to her...and if you can't for some reason be nice to her...then just LEAVE HER ALONE and don't say anything at all!! I wanted to do all of these things....but I didn't. Instead I looked down at my little girl walking beside me..sharing a moment of her day...and I was in shock to see that she had a huge cheesy smile on her face. I had fully expected tears in her eyes and a look of pure sadness and unfairness. I had expected her to tell me that she hates her diabetes and that she wants to just be like everyone else. I had expected all of these things...and I was wrong. She smiled and giggled and looked up at me and said, "You know what I did when he said that to me Mommy? I laughed at him because he looked so silly running all around me scared...and then I felt sorry for him because of how clueless he is. And then I just went back to playing with my friends." Once again I felt the tears stinging the back of my eyes...this time for an entirely different reason...this time the tears were of pride. I know I have said it many times before, but I honestly have never met another soul like her. She amazes me on a daily basis with how she thinks, how she reacts to things, how she carries herself. Sometimes she scares me honestly. I am afraid that I am missing something...I'm afraid that I am not smart enough or insightful enough to teach her what she needs to know. I love her more than anything or anyone I have ever met in my life...not only because she is my daughter...but also because of how she handled herself today. As a Mom I often wonder how she is when I'm not with her. I of course want to protect her and be there for her...stand up for her...fight her battles for her. I learned today though that she needs to fight some of these battles herself. She needs to have the experience and figure out how she is going to respond and react. She needs to do these things for herself so she can prove to herself that she is capable of handling anything that is thrown her way...because in her lifetime (as we wait for a cure) she is going to come across many ignorant people...people who will not be understanding...people who will be mean...people who will try to hurt her. She needs to learn these skills now at the age of 7....so she can realize that she is a tough kid...she is a brave kid...she can handle anything out there.
So, I learned the fine art of self-control today by not running riot through her school trying to right the horrible wrong that occured this morning. I learned that my kid is even more strong than I though she was (which was already a ridiculous amount of strong! LOL!) I learned that she is quite capable of standing up for herself and recognizing the ignorance and not letting it hurt her...simply laughing it off and continuing on about her day. This was a huge experience for the both of us and I think we came out on the other side pretty good.
So, I learned the fine art of self-control today by not running riot through her school trying to right the horrible wrong that occured this morning. I learned that my kid is even more strong than I though she was (which was already a ridiculous amount of strong! LOL!) I learned that she is quite capable of standing up for herself and recognizing the ignorance and not letting it hurt her...simply laughing it off and continuing on about her day. This was a huge experience for the both of us and I think we came out on the other side pretty good.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Looking for some advice please
Last night I was invited to speak about my book at a JDRF meeting. Emma came along with me actually...which I wasn't too sure about at first. I was thinking it would probably be boring for her and I would be completely distracted watching her and trying to find ways to entertain her while we were there. She completely surprised me though because she was very involved and actually sat right next to me the entire time. Seeing as how I am not a big fan of public speaking, a very good friend of mine came up with a really amazing idea to make the book discussion sort of like an interview. She would be the host of a talk show and ask me all the questions pertaining to the book. It went over REALLY well! I am so greatful to have her in my life.
Anyway, I found myself recalling certain points in the book...memories of our times with this disease while we sat up there in front of everyone. I think probably the hardest thing for me was to talk about diagnosis day. I have never actually spoken about that day with Emma in the same room as me. I mean...yes...I have talked about certain aspects of that day when she has asked me questions about it over the years....but I've never really brought up my feelings or emotions from that day. I have made it a point to hide that from her I think. I've learned to hide my tears and shove all of the hurt and pain and sadness way down deep just so she won't have the impression that diabetes is "too much" or "too hard to handle." I have tried to shelter her and attempt to focus on the strength, the courage, the bravery....and especially the fact that WE are in control of our lives...NOT diabetes. I have tried to set this as an example for her and teach her that diabetes does not define her...it's not who she is...it is simply a part of her...one aspect of her life (albeit a pretty big aspect...but still, ONLY an aspect). So, anyway I sat there trying to explain to the group before me how I felt in that moment. It was extremely hard for me to get it out really...I was nervous enough to not even want to make eye contact with any of them...I just sort of glanced from the ceiling to the floor and back again. I talked about how I felt sort of torn in two that day. I wanted more than anything to escape that little hospital room...that dreary room where we had just heard the most awful news...the room that would forever signify a complete 180 in my heart and my way of thinking about life. I wanted to grab Emma and run from there...leave it all behind and just pretend...try to convince myself that it wasn't so. I wanted to outrun diabetes...get as far away from it as possible. Yet I also wanted to stay put...I wanted to stay in that little room and never leave it. I wanted to grab hold of Emma and wrap my arms around her and never let go...just close my eyes and rock her back and forth and wait for someone to help us...to give us a magic pill to make it all go away. We all know how the story of that day ended I suppose. I pulled up my big girl panties and took on my job as Emma's pancreas...I didn't want the job, I had no idea how to do it, I was scared out of my mind, but I did it...because she is my baby and I love her.
I went on to read a portion of my book as well last night. I chose to read about our first plane trip back home to the States post diagnosis. I was so engrossed in reading it and reliving that moment in my head, that I didn't look up at all. I didn't see the group before me, I didn't see my friend or Emma beside me. It was like I was watching a movie in my head of our life. I saw myself standing behind Emma on the moving walkway in the airport...saw her sitting "criss cross applesauce" on the walkway in front of me...arms raised above her head shouting, "WEEEEE!!!" as if she was on a roller coaster ride instead of a flat escalator looking thing moving at a snails pace. I saw myself making a barricade around her with our luggage in the middle of hundreds of people waiting at the gate to board the delayed flight. I saw myself giving her the injection to cover her sandwich supper. I saw the determination in my eyes...the fear...the worry...the stress and the exhaustion. It was such a surreal experience for me. Instantly I was snapped back to reality when I heard Emma quietly sobbing next to me...she pushed her forehead into my arm to hide her face. I could have fallen through the floor right there....my heart broke again. I had no idea that hearing me read of that moment in our lives would affect her so much. I had no idea that it was upset her. While the actual moment was occuring, she was oblivious to the whole stress of it for me I think. She just saw her Mommy going about the usual business of getting things done...no big deal, right? But then to hear me read about how I ACTUALLY felt...it must have broke HER heart. What a sweet beautiful soul she has.
It got me thinking though, was I going about things the wrong way all of this time? Was I doing it wrong by choosing to hide these feelings from her? Should I have let her in on the worry and the fear and the emotion of it a little bit more these past 3 1/2 years? Maybe I am not preparing her properly by making it out to be such a matter of fact...non emotional disease? I have shed a few tears in front of her before...I have let a couple of f-bombs fly when diabetes has frustrated me to no end in front of her (of which I am not proud...but I'm sorry...I'm only human...I'm not perfect). Am I handling the emotional aspects of this disease the wrong way? I would love some advice or input from all of you...I know diabetes is a very personal disease and there is no right or wrong way to do things....but I still sit here wondering if I am just going to be causing more problems down the road for her by not sharing MY feelings, worries, and fears with her in some way as we go along trying to manage this disease. Thanks in advance for any help/ideas!
Anyway, I found myself recalling certain points in the book...memories of our times with this disease while we sat up there in front of everyone. I think probably the hardest thing for me was to talk about diagnosis day. I have never actually spoken about that day with Emma in the same room as me. I mean...yes...I have talked about certain aspects of that day when she has asked me questions about it over the years....but I've never really brought up my feelings or emotions from that day. I have made it a point to hide that from her I think. I've learned to hide my tears and shove all of the hurt and pain and sadness way down deep just so she won't have the impression that diabetes is "too much" or "too hard to handle." I have tried to shelter her and attempt to focus on the strength, the courage, the bravery....and especially the fact that WE are in control of our lives...NOT diabetes. I have tried to set this as an example for her and teach her that diabetes does not define her...it's not who she is...it is simply a part of her...one aspect of her life (albeit a pretty big aspect...but still, ONLY an aspect). So, anyway I sat there trying to explain to the group before me how I felt in that moment. It was extremely hard for me to get it out really...I was nervous enough to not even want to make eye contact with any of them...I just sort of glanced from the ceiling to the floor and back again. I talked about how I felt sort of torn in two that day. I wanted more than anything to escape that little hospital room...that dreary room where we had just heard the most awful news...the room that would forever signify a complete 180 in my heart and my way of thinking about life. I wanted to grab Emma and run from there...leave it all behind and just pretend...try to convince myself that it wasn't so. I wanted to outrun diabetes...get as far away from it as possible. Yet I also wanted to stay put...I wanted to stay in that little room and never leave it. I wanted to grab hold of Emma and wrap my arms around her and never let go...just close my eyes and rock her back and forth and wait for someone to help us...to give us a magic pill to make it all go away. We all know how the story of that day ended I suppose. I pulled up my big girl panties and took on my job as Emma's pancreas...I didn't want the job, I had no idea how to do it, I was scared out of my mind, but I did it...because she is my baby and I love her.
I went on to read a portion of my book as well last night. I chose to read about our first plane trip back home to the States post diagnosis. I was so engrossed in reading it and reliving that moment in my head, that I didn't look up at all. I didn't see the group before me, I didn't see my friend or Emma beside me. It was like I was watching a movie in my head of our life. I saw myself standing behind Emma on the moving walkway in the airport...saw her sitting "criss cross applesauce" on the walkway in front of me...arms raised above her head shouting, "WEEEEE!!!" as if she was on a roller coaster ride instead of a flat escalator looking thing moving at a snails pace. I saw myself making a barricade around her with our luggage in the middle of hundreds of people waiting at the gate to board the delayed flight. I saw myself giving her the injection to cover her sandwich supper. I saw the determination in my eyes...the fear...the worry...the stress and the exhaustion. It was such a surreal experience for me. Instantly I was snapped back to reality when I heard Emma quietly sobbing next to me...she pushed her forehead into my arm to hide her face. I could have fallen through the floor right there....my heart broke again. I had no idea that hearing me read of that moment in our lives would affect her so much. I had no idea that it was upset her. While the actual moment was occuring, she was oblivious to the whole stress of it for me I think. She just saw her Mommy going about the usual business of getting things done...no big deal, right? But then to hear me read about how I ACTUALLY felt...it must have broke HER heart. What a sweet beautiful soul she has.
It got me thinking though, was I going about things the wrong way all of this time? Was I doing it wrong by choosing to hide these feelings from her? Should I have let her in on the worry and the fear and the emotion of it a little bit more these past 3 1/2 years? Maybe I am not preparing her properly by making it out to be such a matter of fact...non emotional disease? I have shed a few tears in front of her before...I have let a couple of f-bombs fly when diabetes has frustrated me to no end in front of her (of which I am not proud...but I'm sorry...I'm only human...I'm not perfect). Am I handling the emotional aspects of this disease the wrong way? I would love some advice or input from all of you...I know diabetes is a very personal disease and there is no right or wrong way to do things....but I still sit here wondering if I am just going to be causing more problems down the road for her by not sharing MY feelings, worries, and fears with her in some way as we go along trying to manage this disease. Thanks in advance for any help/ideas!
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Time means so many different things
Time
Time is the passage of a moment...a mere breath in the busy exhale of a lifetime.
Time means many different things to many different people.
To the mother of a newborn baby it means sweet snuggles and the warmth of this most anticipated addition to your world. The realization that you are now able to hold onto and glance upon this tiny little being that now owns your entire heart. The discovery that it is entirely possible to love someone with such an overwhelming intensity....someone that you have never even met until that moment in time.
To the Grandmother sitting in her rocking chair on the front porch of the house that she made into a home, it means wisdom. Wisdom in knowing that the whole point of it all...the whole reason we are here...the whole meaning of everything is the love we have for each other...our friends, our family, our pets, our community. The realization that it is the little things that matter. The pair of warm cozy slippers that are so worn in they form to the contours of her feet like a glove. The tea that her husband brings her in the morning sweetened just so...just the way she likes it...just because he loves her and knows that it will make her smile. The ability to look upon her children and grandchildren and know that they are just beginning...and that she has done her best to lead by example and show them what is truly important in this life...and yet knowing that they will make mistakes along the way...they must make mistakes along the way...so they will be able to gain the wisdom themselves.
To the parent of a type 1 diabetic child sitting beside her extra sweet baby in the wee hours of the morning. Time passes so slowly...so gut wrenchingly slow. We watch them sleep...we wait...we hold our breath...we pray...we seek advice...we seek comfort...we hope...we look deep inside our souls and attempt to gather up the necessary strength to make it through this moment in time. We cry. We lose the ever present battle with our emotions and let out a pain filled breath...and the tears fall whether we like it or not...dripping down our cheeks...letting it out because there is no control left...no fight left. Time is a fickle beast for the parent of a type 1 diabetic. Sometimes it feels like a living breathing thing...fighting us for control...forcing itself upon us...springing situations and emotions on us when we aren't prepared. Sometimes it feels like a whirlwind of chaotic moments passing by like a madman stalking about an empty padded room. Sometimes it feels like someone has pressed pause on the remote controlling our lives...allowing us to soak in the moment...burning the image in our minds of our type 1 child smiling...laughing...enjoying all of the typical kid things...dripping melting popsicles on a hot July afternoon...standing there in the swimsuit...the locks of their hair matted and wet...smelling of coconut scented sunscreen. Or rosy cheeked and bundled up with snowsuits, scarves, hats, and mittens...standing atop the tobaggon hill...grasping a steaming cup of hot cocoa...sticking the tip of their tongues in to get a taste of the melted foaming marshmallows on top. Or in the middle of a concert hall beside us...jumping and singing at the top of their lungs along with thousands of other people...enjoying the moment...LIVING in it...keeping it in our hearts and minds forever.
Time is a random, evil, breathtaking, beautiful thing for the parent of a type 1 diabetic. For as many times as it turns out to be my enemy, I have learned to appreciate it. Time began well before I was even in the picture...in the moment...here to enjoy it or despise it.......and time will continue rolling on long long after I am gone. All I can do while I am here is try to make the most of my time...LIVE in my moments, be present in them...and cherish them...good or bad.
Time is the passage of a moment...a mere breath in the busy exhale of a lifetime.
Time means many different things to many different people.
To the mother of a newborn baby it means sweet snuggles and the warmth of this most anticipated addition to your world. The realization that you are now able to hold onto and glance upon this tiny little being that now owns your entire heart. The discovery that it is entirely possible to love someone with such an overwhelming intensity....someone that you have never even met until that moment in time.
To the Grandmother sitting in her rocking chair on the front porch of the house that she made into a home, it means wisdom. Wisdom in knowing that the whole point of it all...the whole reason we are here...the whole meaning of everything is the love we have for each other...our friends, our family, our pets, our community. The realization that it is the little things that matter. The pair of warm cozy slippers that are so worn in they form to the contours of her feet like a glove. The tea that her husband brings her in the morning sweetened just so...just the way she likes it...just because he loves her and knows that it will make her smile. The ability to look upon her children and grandchildren and know that they are just beginning...and that she has done her best to lead by example and show them what is truly important in this life...and yet knowing that they will make mistakes along the way...they must make mistakes along the way...so they will be able to gain the wisdom themselves.
To the parent of a type 1 diabetic child sitting beside her extra sweet baby in the wee hours of the morning. Time passes so slowly...so gut wrenchingly slow. We watch them sleep...we wait...we hold our breath...we pray...we seek advice...we seek comfort...we hope...we look deep inside our souls and attempt to gather up the necessary strength to make it through this moment in time. We cry. We lose the ever present battle with our emotions and let out a pain filled breath...and the tears fall whether we like it or not...dripping down our cheeks...letting it out because there is no control left...no fight left. Time is a fickle beast for the parent of a type 1 diabetic. Sometimes it feels like a living breathing thing...fighting us for control...forcing itself upon us...springing situations and emotions on us when we aren't prepared. Sometimes it feels like a whirlwind of chaotic moments passing by like a madman stalking about an empty padded room. Sometimes it feels like someone has pressed pause on the remote controlling our lives...allowing us to soak in the moment...burning the image in our minds of our type 1 child smiling...laughing...enjoying all of the typical kid things...dripping melting popsicles on a hot July afternoon...standing there in the swimsuit...the locks of their hair matted and wet...smelling of coconut scented sunscreen. Or rosy cheeked and bundled up with snowsuits, scarves, hats, and mittens...standing atop the tobaggon hill...grasping a steaming cup of hot cocoa...sticking the tip of their tongues in to get a taste of the melted foaming marshmallows on top. Or in the middle of a concert hall beside us...jumping and singing at the top of their lungs along with thousands of other people...enjoying the moment...LIVING in it...keeping it in our hearts and minds forever.
Time is a random, evil, breathtaking, beautiful thing for the parent of a type 1 diabetic. For as many times as it turns out to be my enemy, I have learned to appreciate it. Time began well before I was even in the picture...in the moment...here to enjoy it or despise it.......and time will continue rolling on long long after I am gone. All I can do while I am here is try to make the most of my time...LIVE in my moments, be present in them...and cherish them...good or bad.
Monday, November 21, 2011
what is lost when all is gone
what is left
when all is gone
the dust has settled
now there's nothing wrong.
you've disappeared for a moments rest
leaving me alone
to decipher the mess.
sorting through the aftermath
bits and bobs of a broken guess
to pick and choose and clear a path.
searching for that grace
in the vast and overwhelming space.
tossing turning thrashing about
throwing rubble with a shout
gaining momentum without a doubt
searching for that grace
in the vast and empty space.
what is lost when all is gone?
merely the moment
the mistake
the dawn.
when all is gone
the dust has settled
now there's nothing wrong.
you've disappeared for a moments rest
leaving me alone
to decipher the mess.
sorting through the aftermath
bits and bobs of a broken guess
to pick and choose and clear a path.
searching for that grace
in the vast and overwhelming space.
tossing turning thrashing about
throwing rubble with a shout
gaining momentum without a doubt
searching for that grace
in the vast and empty space.
what is lost when all is gone?
merely the moment
the mistake
the dawn.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Emma's 4th Annual Hot Chocolate Sale for JDRF
So today was the big day...Emma's 4th annual Hot Chocolate Sale for JDRF! It was definitely one for the record books. Unfortunately Emma didn't get to meet her personal goal of raising more money than the first year we did this...but all in all she did a fantastic job raising $775. I am so beyond proud of her for doing this. She was a little disappointed at not meeting her goal, but I reminded her that she raised that money in only 3 hours time...and that in all 4 years combined she has managed to pull in $3775 for JDRF. That quickly put a smile on her face and a sparkle in her eye. I love seeing that sparkle...it is incredible to see your own child beaming with pride in what they have accomplished...pride in what they have made happen...pride in knowing that they have made a difference in the world.
I say that this year was one for the record books simply because I was reminded full force of how blessed we are in the friend department. I don't know what I did to deserve it, but I have some of the most amazing friends on the planet. Our local group of D-Momma's were all there ready and willing to lend a hand. They made delicious cupcakes to sell and included the carb counts for every single one of them. They stood outside in 50km cold winds waving signs to try and draw in the customers. They helped us set up and take down the table and supplies. They bought their own cups of hot chocolate and told Emma how proud they were of her. They took pictures. They hugged us. They supported us. They were there for us. These women and their families mean the world to me and my own family. They lift me up when I am feeling down, they are there for me at 2 in the morning when I am struggling to hold back the tears from exhaustion and frustration while fighting off low blood sugars, they cheer us on in our victories, the console us in our defeats....they are more than just friends to me...they are my 2nd family and they all hold a piece of my heart. I would be lost without them. I hope they know just how much they mean to me.
I also had the opportunity to meet a D-Mom in person for the first time. We became friends on Facebook years ago shortly after Emma was diagnosed. Lindsay will always hold a special place in my heart. She drove with her family over 2 hours just to come to the hot chocolate sale today. I actually got to hug her in person today...I got to look in her eyes and feel the same same there...I got to meet this woman who means so much to me and has been there to support me online for so long. She is one of those few truly honest to goodness special people out there and I am so greatful to have had those moments with her today.
I got to meet a local Mom today who has a daughter that was fairly newly diagnosed. I saw that look in her eyes...that fear...that sadness...that overwhelming-ness and my heart broke for her. I wanted to hug her and comfort her...tell her that even though it doesn't feel like it right now, that she will be ok...her daughter will be ok. I wanted to tell her that it's not an easy road by any means...but she CAN do this. I didn't want her to think that I was some crazy lady though standing there with hot chocolate spilled down the front of my shirt (oh yes...I was styling...lol) trying to swoop in and overwhelm her even more...so I held back all of the thoughts running through my mind. Instead I told her that if there is ever anything I can do to help her to please let me know...I am there for her...I will help in any way that I can.
It's such a bizarre thing to do this fundraiser. It's such an emotional roller coaster ride for me. I sit down, strap myself in for the ride, and try to deal with it as best I can. I meet some awesome people along the way...new to this life...old pros...supporters...friends...family. I meet some that have a touch of the ignorance in them and I do my best to set them straight about this disease. (btw...this is the first year that I didn't have to hear someone say to me, "well WHY are you selling hot chocolate and sweet sugary stuff if it's for DIABETES? PFFT!" I am truly greatful for that not happening this time around!) I get to stand beside my amazing daughter and witness first hand...up close and personal...just how unique she is. I get to see her face light up as a customer walks up to the table. I get to see her relish in the moment...enjoy the day...see the fruits of her labor. I get to see her being proud of herself. It's one thing for a parent to be proud of their own child....but it's a COMPLETELY different feeling to see your child be proud of themselves. I get to feel the sadness that we are still out there doing this and there's still not a cure. I get to feel the despair as I realize that the diabetics in the room far outnumber the non-diabetics. I get to feel the broken heart and overwhelming pang that comes with seeing all of their faces...gathered together...fighting the same fight that we do every single day...day in and day out...over and over again. I wish that I was smart enough to be able to cure them all. I wish that I could take this from them all and deal with it for them. I also get to witness some sweet moments too. Seeing all of the D-kiddos laughing and playing, holding signs, asking people that come in the store to support JDRF. I get to see them drinking hot cocoa and eating cupcakes. I get to see them being kids. One extra sweet little boy (the son of a local D-family) actually walked up to me and gave me a hug before he left at the end. It melted my heart. It made me feel good...proud...included...part of this amazing family of diabetics. It made me see that this is an important thing for a lot of people.
So, yes...this day was definitely one for the record books for me. I am honored to be a part of this group of people. I am honored to be in their corner...on their team...fighting for a cure. I am honored to be Emma's Mommy. I am blessed to have the chance to spend my days with her. She is truly a remarkable little girl and I am so proud of what she has done.
I say that this year was one for the record books simply because I was reminded full force of how blessed we are in the friend department. I don't know what I did to deserve it, but I have some of the most amazing friends on the planet. Our local group of D-Momma's were all there ready and willing to lend a hand. They made delicious cupcakes to sell and included the carb counts for every single one of them. They stood outside in 50km cold winds waving signs to try and draw in the customers. They helped us set up and take down the table and supplies. They bought their own cups of hot chocolate and told Emma how proud they were of her. They took pictures. They hugged us. They supported us. They were there for us. These women and their families mean the world to me and my own family. They lift me up when I am feeling down, they are there for me at 2 in the morning when I am struggling to hold back the tears from exhaustion and frustration while fighting off low blood sugars, they cheer us on in our victories, the console us in our defeats....they are more than just friends to me...they are my 2nd family and they all hold a piece of my heart. I would be lost without them. I hope they know just how much they mean to me.
I also had the opportunity to meet a D-Mom in person for the first time. We became friends on Facebook years ago shortly after Emma was diagnosed. Lindsay will always hold a special place in my heart. She drove with her family over 2 hours just to come to the hot chocolate sale today. I actually got to hug her in person today...I got to look in her eyes and feel the same same there...I got to meet this woman who means so much to me and has been there to support me online for so long. She is one of those few truly honest to goodness special people out there and I am so greatful to have had those moments with her today.
I got to meet a local Mom today who has a daughter that was fairly newly diagnosed. I saw that look in her eyes...that fear...that sadness...that overwhelming-ness and my heart broke for her. I wanted to hug her and comfort her...tell her that even though it doesn't feel like it right now, that she will be ok...her daughter will be ok. I wanted to tell her that it's not an easy road by any means...but she CAN do this. I didn't want her to think that I was some crazy lady though standing there with hot chocolate spilled down the front of my shirt (oh yes...I was styling...lol) trying to swoop in and overwhelm her even more...so I held back all of the thoughts running through my mind. Instead I told her that if there is ever anything I can do to help her to please let me know...I am there for her...I will help in any way that I can.
It's such a bizarre thing to do this fundraiser. It's such an emotional roller coaster ride for me. I sit down, strap myself in for the ride, and try to deal with it as best I can. I meet some awesome people along the way...new to this life...old pros...supporters...friends...family. I meet some that have a touch of the ignorance in them and I do my best to set them straight about this disease. (btw...this is the first year that I didn't have to hear someone say to me, "well WHY are you selling hot chocolate and sweet sugary stuff if it's for DIABETES? PFFT!" I am truly greatful for that not happening this time around!) I get to stand beside my amazing daughter and witness first hand...up close and personal...just how unique she is. I get to see her face light up as a customer walks up to the table. I get to see her relish in the moment...enjoy the day...see the fruits of her labor. I get to see her being proud of herself. It's one thing for a parent to be proud of their own child....but it's a COMPLETELY different feeling to see your child be proud of themselves. I get to feel the sadness that we are still out there doing this and there's still not a cure. I get to feel the despair as I realize that the diabetics in the room far outnumber the non-diabetics. I get to feel the broken heart and overwhelming pang that comes with seeing all of their faces...gathered together...fighting the same fight that we do every single day...day in and day out...over and over again. I wish that I was smart enough to be able to cure them all. I wish that I could take this from them all and deal with it for them. I also get to witness some sweet moments too. Seeing all of the D-kiddos laughing and playing, holding signs, asking people that come in the store to support JDRF. I get to see them drinking hot cocoa and eating cupcakes. I get to see them being kids. One extra sweet little boy (the son of a local D-family) actually walked up to me and gave me a hug before he left at the end. It melted my heart. It made me feel good...proud...included...part of this amazing family of diabetics. It made me see that this is an important thing for a lot of people.
So, yes...this day was definitely one for the record books for me. I am honored to be a part of this group of people. I am honored to be in their corner...on their team...fighting for a cure. I am honored to be Emma's Mommy. I am blessed to have the chance to spend my days with her. She is truly a remarkable little girl and I am so proud of what she has done.
Struggling with the tradition
It's 1:42am and I'm sitting here trying to fight back the tears.
This whole week I have been really excited and looking forward to Emma's 4th hot chocolate sale fundraiser for JDRF. It's always a fun time...we meet a TON of new people affected by diabetes, we get to spend time with the old familiar friends that stand alongside us every minute of every day fighting this disease...trying to make it work...trying to make it normal...trying to survive each day, and we do our best to spread awareness and raise some funds for JDRF. It's always a good day. I always wind up coming home at the end of it and feeling good...a lightness about my heart knowing that we are not alone...feeling proud of my little girl for coming up with this idea in the first place and proud of her for standing up and doing her part to beat this every day.
However right now I am sad. I'm sitting here staring at the pile of things we have all set to go in the morning. The signs, the prizes, the supplies...it's all waiting by the front door...and it's sort of hit me...this is our 4th time doing this. It's our 4th time standing out there fighting to come out on top. Our 4th time correcting the general public's opinion and perspective of Type 1 Diabetes. Our 4th time putting ourselves out there and doing the only thing we CAN do to help fight this...raise money and educate. Diabetes has taken so much from us...our ability to make every day things easy...our ability to spare our children from having to grow up and mature before they otherwise would have had to...our ability to sleep peacefully and soundly at night...so much...it has taken so much from us. So this simple little fundraiser is the one thing we can do...the one thing that makes us feel like we have purpose in all of this chaos...the one thing that helps grab us by the shoulders and pulls us back up onto our feet.
It's our 4th time doing this though...and there's still not a cure. It makes my heart hurt and is giving me quite the battle with allowing the tears to fall from my eyes right now. I'm struggling. It hurts. It's overwhelming and I'm tired. I want to say that I don't know how many more years I can do this fundraiser because it has become a very emotional thing for me....but I know that wouldn't be true...I know that I will still do it next year...and the year after...and the year after that. I will continue to do it every single year that I have to until a cure is found. It's what we do. It's become a part of our process...a part of our journey with this disease...a tradition so to speak.
So, even though I am struggling right now...and my heart feels like it is breaking as I stare at that sign that says "4th Annual" on it...and I am losing the battle with tears.......I will still do this...because I love her more than anything else on this planet...I would give my life for her...I would crawl to the ends of the Earth carrying her on my back if I had to...I would do anything...I will continue on until a cure is found.
This whole week I have been really excited and looking forward to Emma's 4th hot chocolate sale fundraiser for JDRF. It's always a fun time...we meet a TON of new people affected by diabetes, we get to spend time with the old familiar friends that stand alongside us every minute of every day fighting this disease...trying to make it work...trying to make it normal...trying to survive each day, and we do our best to spread awareness and raise some funds for JDRF. It's always a good day. I always wind up coming home at the end of it and feeling good...a lightness about my heart knowing that we are not alone...feeling proud of my little girl for coming up with this idea in the first place and proud of her for standing up and doing her part to beat this every day.
However right now I am sad. I'm sitting here staring at the pile of things we have all set to go in the morning. The signs, the prizes, the supplies...it's all waiting by the front door...and it's sort of hit me...this is our 4th time doing this. It's our 4th time standing out there fighting to come out on top. Our 4th time correcting the general public's opinion and perspective of Type 1 Diabetes. Our 4th time putting ourselves out there and doing the only thing we CAN do to help fight this...raise money and educate. Diabetes has taken so much from us...our ability to make every day things easy...our ability to spare our children from having to grow up and mature before they otherwise would have had to...our ability to sleep peacefully and soundly at night...so much...it has taken so much from us. So this simple little fundraiser is the one thing we can do...the one thing that makes us feel like we have purpose in all of this chaos...the one thing that helps grab us by the shoulders and pulls us back up onto our feet.
It's our 4th time doing this though...and there's still not a cure. It makes my heart hurt and is giving me quite the battle with allowing the tears to fall from my eyes right now. I'm struggling. It hurts. It's overwhelming and I'm tired. I want to say that I don't know how many more years I can do this fundraiser because it has become a very emotional thing for me....but I know that wouldn't be true...I know that I will still do it next year...and the year after...and the year after that. I will continue to do it every single year that I have to until a cure is found. It's what we do. It's become a part of our process...a part of our journey with this disease...a tradition so to speak.
So, even though I am struggling right now...and my heart feels like it is breaking as I stare at that sign that says "4th Annual" on it...and I am losing the battle with tears.......I will still do this...because I love her more than anything else on this planet...I would give my life for her...I would crawl to the ends of the Earth carrying her on my back if I had to...I would do anything...I will continue on until a cure is found.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
The Fonz and a1c numbers
So, this past Tuesday Emma had her 3 month diabetes clinic appointment. Oh yes...the all important clinic visit that we all know and love. It entails a plethora of emotions leading up to the actual day and it usually turns out to be some sort of adventure (for us anyway!) We are over 3 years into this diabetic life and without fail, every single time clinic day approaches I begin to feel the stress ball growing in my stomach. I know it stems from the stress I put on myself to be a perfect pancreas...I know it is an unattainable goal...I know it will never happen...and yet I still do it. Add into the mix the fact that I want to see a good number...I just want to see it...I want that validation that all of those sleepless (or very little sleep anyway) nights are worth it...I want to see the number to prove to myself that I am not doing all of this only to wind up with a horrible result anyway. Another fine ingredient in the recipe for setup to failure is the fact that our doctor is not the most supportive person...I don't think I have ever heard a "keep up the good work" from the doc to be honest.
Sooo....that brings us to the past three months issues...Emma had strep throat, a bad cold, and we encountered a faulty reservoir which resulted in her spending an entire day in the 20's because it took me that long to hone my diabetes detective skills to figure out that was what the issue was! So, I walked into the hospital with all of this baggage on my back...the stress...the self-inflicted pressure, the fear of realizing that all of my efforts were to wind up in a bad number anyway. Let me assure you that it was a pretty heavy load. I have some strong shoulders, but it still felt like I was trudging my way down from the 5th level of the parking garage (I never get a good spot there! GRR!LOL!)
To make a long story short, her a1c did go up a tad....by 0.3 actually...enough to make me want to type a little "Pffft!" at all of the worry and stress I put myself through. It has made me realize though just how much pressure I put on myself...how much of this I take on...how much I convince myself that it is all my stress alone to shoulder...my burden to bear. It's too much. I need to learn how to ease up on myself and realize that diabetes is fickle. Diabetes has a mind of it's own. Diabetes does NOT play fair...in fact it doesn't follow the rules...it has NO rules really. It's sort of like the Fonz from Happy Days in that respect. The Fonz played by his own rules...he slicked his hair back in a sweet pompadour because that was how he liked it. He wore a leather jacket and road a motorcycle because that was his style. He got the ladies...he never had to put a quarter in the jukebox...AND he had a kickass catchphrase. Diabetes is the rebel in this life. Diabetes does what it wants, when it wants, where it wants, and how ever often it wants...cause it can...it sits atop it's shiny black motorcycle chillaxin (yea...I can say that...I know I'm 34...but I can still say that if I wanna! LOL!) and doing whatever it's little heart desires on our episode of "Happy Days". I however am more like Potsie or Ralph Malph...awkward...bumbling along...trying to keep up and fix things as they come. It's far from easy...no one ever said it would be though I guess. So, I'm going to attempt to ease up on myself and not carry around all of this pressure and stress. I'm just gonna sit back once in a while and whistle the "Happy Days" tune to myself.
Sooo....that brings us to the past three months issues...Emma had strep throat, a bad cold, and we encountered a faulty reservoir which resulted in her spending an entire day in the 20's because it took me that long to hone my diabetes detective skills to figure out that was what the issue was! So, I walked into the hospital with all of this baggage on my back...the stress...the self-inflicted pressure, the fear of realizing that all of my efforts were to wind up in a bad number anyway. Let me assure you that it was a pretty heavy load. I have some strong shoulders, but it still felt like I was trudging my way down from the 5th level of the parking garage (I never get a good spot there! GRR!LOL!)
To make a long story short, her a1c did go up a tad....by 0.3 actually...enough to make me want to type a little "Pffft!" at all of the worry and stress I put myself through. It has made me realize though just how much pressure I put on myself...how much of this I take on...how much I convince myself that it is all my stress alone to shoulder...my burden to bear. It's too much. I need to learn how to ease up on myself and realize that diabetes is fickle. Diabetes has a mind of it's own. Diabetes does NOT play fair...in fact it doesn't follow the rules...it has NO rules really. It's sort of like the Fonz from Happy Days in that respect. The Fonz played by his own rules...he slicked his hair back in a sweet pompadour because that was how he liked it. He wore a leather jacket and road a motorcycle because that was his style. He got the ladies...he never had to put a quarter in the jukebox...AND he had a kickass catchphrase. Diabetes is the rebel in this life. Diabetes does what it wants, when it wants, where it wants, and how ever often it wants...cause it can...it sits atop it's shiny black motorcycle chillaxin (yea...I can say that...I know I'm 34...but I can still say that if I wanna! LOL!) and doing whatever it's little heart desires on our episode of "Happy Days". I however am more like Potsie or Ralph Malph...awkward...bumbling along...trying to keep up and fix things as they come. It's far from easy...no one ever said it would be though I guess. So, I'm going to attempt to ease up on myself and not carry around all of this pressure and stress. I'm just gonna sit back once in a while and whistle the "Happy Days" tune to myself.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Nightmare
Wandering down the dark and muddy path
Roots and stones jump out at my feet threatening to send me sprawling
landing face first in the earth.
Shamed and scared
Tears fall from my eyes to mix in with the dirt,
a puddle of pestilence before me,
mocking me,
threatening to drown me.
A canopy of green shelters me from the storm,
the ever present storm.
The sense is lost,
as am I.
Aimlessly moving about...
full of undying doubt.
The echos of my heart whisper in my ear
like the sweet breath of a sleeping baby in my arms.
Her tiny hand curled around my finger
grasping,
safe...warm...home.
Footsteps emerge from behind...
pounding...gaining...tracking us down.
Muffled voices all around
knowing...always on the move.
Losing sight of what is near
overcome with insane fear...
oh my sweet dear,
will we ever get out of here?
Focus on her tiny hand
the softness...the sweetness...the innocent warmth.
Escape desired and forever out of reach.
Roots and stones jump out at my feet threatening to send me sprawling
landing face first in the earth.
Shamed and scared
Tears fall from my eyes to mix in with the dirt,
a puddle of pestilence before me,
mocking me,
threatening to drown me.
A canopy of green shelters me from the storm,
the ever present storm.
The sense is lost,
as am I.
Aimlessly moving about...
full of undying doubt.
The echos of my heart whisper in my ear
like the sweet breath of a sleeping baby in my arms.
Her tiny hand curled around my finger
grasping,
safe...warm...home.
Footsteps emerge from behind...
pounding...gaining...tracking us down.
Muffled voices all around
knowing...always on the move.
Losing sight of what is near
overcome with insane fear...
oh my sweet dear,
will we ever get out of here?
Focus on her tiny hand
the softness...the sweetness...the innocent warmth.
Escape desired and forever out of reach.
Monday, November 14, 2011
Our World Diabetes Day interview
There are so few moments in life that force us to remember what is truly important...what truly matters. We get stuck in the mundane and monotonous routine of blood sugar checks, insulin injections, pump site changes, numbers, numbers, numbers...and we tend to forget those little things that mean so much.
Well, today I got to enjoy one of those moments...and I am still feeling the afterglow of it. Emma and I were invited to be guests on a local TV show here called "Daytime" to talk about World Diabetes Day and Emma's 4th Annual hot chocolate sale fundraiser for JDRF. I got her from school and we drove to the station with a ball of nervousness growing in our bellies. Like I have mentioned before, I am NOT a big fan of public speaking...I don't like all the attention focused on me...I get shy, nervous, stumble on my words, turn beet red, and it usually turns into a big uncomfortable situation. Emma is not a HUGE fan of being put in situations like that either...but once she is there and in the moment, she really is at ease and seems to enjoy it. We arrived and were greeted with some of the most amazing people...the host was incredible...he immediately began crackin jokes and making Emma laugh...I am so greatful. We sat down on the couch and once the cameras started rolling...the nerves were out the door. I made a point of not looking at the camera...I wanted to say all of the things that were flying through my mind. I wanted to talk about diabetes and make the viewers understand...I wanted them to get a true honest to goodness glimpse into our lives and maybe possibly hopefully ignite some spark of compassion...some tiny bit of curiosity in them...so that they would talk about it with someone else...spread the word...educate each other. I felt the enormous weight of my thoughts on my shoulders. I wanted to make you all proud. I wanted you to feel confident in me and my ability to get the word out there and spread the awareness. I hope I accomplished that. I hope that my words reached through the screen and touched someone at home...I hope that I made a difference today. Isn't that really what this life is all about? Making a difference? Loving your friends and family to the utmost capacity and making a difference in the world? I believe so anyway.
While I sat there listening to the host talk to Emma, I had to choke back tears. I have said many times before how proud I am of her...for her bravery, her compassion, her kind soul, her drive, and her ambition. However today....ohhh today was so much more. I sat next to her on the couch and watched her speak about her diabetes. I watched her OWN it...I watched her show off her pump...I watched her talk about her hot chocolate sale and how important it is. I was overcome with a feeling so much greater than pride...it was incredible. I was in awe of her...her courage...her tenacity...her attitude of "this is me...this is who I am...take it or leave it"
Once the interview was over, I saw her smile...and I knew...she was proud of herself. She knew that she made a difference today...she knew that she left her mark today. We walked out of that TV station with a spring in our step and smiles that stretched from ear to ear. As a Mom, I try to teach her what is important in life. I try to teach her that it is much better to stand up and fight for what you believe in...even if everyone else around you thinks you are a fool for trying. I try to teach her that this disease does not define her. She is so much more than diabetes. I try to teach her that she should never sit back and let pity rule her days...it's ok to be sad...it's ok to hate it...it's ok to let those feelings out...but don't let them rule your days. I try to teach her that being who she is...honestly and truly who she is...being a leader in this world...it's so much better than the alternative. Never hide yourself. Never hide the true you. I try to teach her that it doesn't matter what anyone else in the world says or thinks of you....the only thing that matters is what YOU think...that YOU know you did something special...that YOU know you made a difference today...and that YOU are proud of yourself.
Yep, today was a good day...and I am a lucky girl...I won't be forgetting that anytime soon.
Well, today I got to enjoy one of those moments...and I am still feeling the afterglow of it. Emma and I were invited to be guests on a local TV show here called "Daytime" to talk about World Diabetes Day and Emma's 4th Annual hot chocolate sale fundraiser for JDRF. I got her from school and we drove to the station with a ball of nervousness growing in our bellies. Like I have mentioned before, I am NOT a big fan of public speaking...I don't like all the attention focused on me...I get shy, nervous, stumble on my words, turn beet red, and it usually turns into a big uncomfortable situation. Emma is not a HUGE fan of being put in situations like that either...but once she is there and in the moment, she really is at ease and seems to enjoy it. We arrived and were greeted with some of the most amazing people...the host was incredible...he immediately began crackin jokes and making Emma laugh...I am so greatful. We sat down on the couch and once the cameras started rolling...the nerves were out the door. I made a point of not looking at the camera...I wanted to say all of the things that were flying through my mind. I wanted to talk about diabetes and make the viewers understand...I wanted them to get a true honest to goodness glimpse into our lives and maybe possibly hopefully ignite some spark of compassion...some tiny bit of curiosity in them...so that they would talk about it with someone else...spread the word...educate each other. I felt the enormous weight of my thoughts on my shoulders. I wanted to make you all proud. I wanted you to feel confident in me and my ability to get the word out there and spread the awareness. I hope I accomplished that. I hope that my words reached through the screen and touched someone at home...I hope that I made a difference today. Isn't that really what this life is all about? Making a difference? Loving your friends and family to the utmost capacity and making a difference in the world? I believe so anyway.
While I sat there listening to the host talk to Emma, I had to choke back tears. I have said many times before how proud I am of her...for her bravery, her compassion, her kind soul, her drive, and her ambition. However today....ohhh today was so much more. I sat next to her on the couch and watched her speak about her diabetes. I watched her OWN it...I watched her show off her pump...I watched her talk about her hot chocolate sale and how important it is. I was overcome with a feeling so much greater than pride...it was incredible. I was in awe of her...her courage...her tenacity...her attitude of "this is me...this is who I am...take it or leave it"
Once the interview was over, I saw her smile...and I knew...she was proud of herself. She knew that she made a difference today...she knew that she left her mark today. We walked out of that TV station with a spring in our step and smiles that stretched from ear to ear. As a Mom, I try to teach her what is important in life. I try to teach her that it is much better to stand up and fight for what you believe in...even if everyone else around you thinks you are a fool for trying. I try to teach her that this disease does not define her. She is so much more than diabetes. I try to teach her that she should never sit back and let pity rule her days...it's ok to be sad...it's ok to hate it...it's ok to let those feelings out...but don't let them rule your days. I try to teach her that being who she is...honestly and truly who she is...being a leader in this world...it's so much better than the alternative. Never hide yourself. Never hide the true you. I try to teach her that it doesn't matter what anyone else in the world says or thinks of you....the only thing that matters is what YOU think...that YOU know you did something special...that YOU know you made a difference today...and that YOU are proud of yourself.
Yep, today was a good day...and I am a lucky girl...I won't be forgetting that anytime soon.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
What I would like you to know
Tomorrow is World Diabetes Day. I sit here thinking about all of the 31 years of my life that I lived with Nov. 14th passing right by me...clueless to what it was or what meaning it held for so many people. I had no idea honestly who Sir Frederick Banting was or even the fact that he had discovered insulin. I didn't know the magnitude of this disease. I thought that all a diagnosis of diabetes meant was that you had to adjust your diet and you were no longer able to eat any sugar. I thought that it was something that could be taken care of with a pill every morning...and if you were affected with a really "bad case" of it, then you had to have a shot of insulin every day too. I thought that the only thing a diabetic had to worry about was the food that they put into their mouths and the amount of exercise they had to do to maintain a healthy weight. To make a long story short....I was clueless....I was ignorant...I had no idea.
Emma was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes on June 26, 2008. She was 4 years old and about to start school for the very first time that September. She came to me in October and asked me if we could have a hot chocolate stand to raise money for the people looking for a cure for her diabetes. She wanted to help them. She wasn't willing to just sit back and remain quiet...let someone else take care of things...let someone else shout it from the rooftops that we need a cure. At 4 years old, she had enough social awareness to realize that if you want to make something happen, you need to open your mouth and tell someone...you need to reach for the stars and set goals for yourself that at the time may seem unattainable or out of your reach. So, on Nov. 14, 2008 we held our very first hot chocolate sale to raise money for JDRF. Emma managed to raise $1200 that night. I have so many memories of that night that make me smile. One image in particular though will stick with me for the rest of my life. I recall standing beside her and watching her talk to the local TV news reporter about her fundraiser. We were in the middle of a crowded grocery store, bright lights were shining in our eyes, and I looked down at her smiling face standing next to me...she looked like an angel to me...she was smiling from all of the excitement...she was beautiful...I saw deeper than that though...I saw the look in her eyes. I saw for the first time in her life, true pride in herself and what she had made happen. She was so overwhelmingly pleased that her idea that started out simply as a thought...a desire...a wish....had transformed into this...the reality which was now before her. It was amazing. I am so lucky that I got to be there with her and see her sweet face in that moment.
So, here we are about to have our 4th annual hot chocolate sale fundraiser. I feel a deep and raw sadness that we are still doing this...there is still not a cure. I hope that Emma doesn't ever get discouraged and doubt the power of this fundraiser. I hope she doesn't ever stop dreaming big.
I sat here tonight talking with her about Sir Frederick Banting and his life. I told her that he is a shining example of how important it is to be curious...to have that insatiable thirst for knowledge...to posess that perseverance and determination that will keep you going...keep striving...keep dreaming big and reaching for the impossible. I told her that you can never stop trying...never stop questioning...never stop learning...because once you do, once you succumb to that complacency and that stagnant way of thinking...all will be lost. I told her that one of the most important things in life that I wish for her is to continue to be curious and to continue to ask questions and educate herself.
So, here I sit...greatful beyond all belief for this man I have never met...and I hope that all of you reading this will not wait for Type 1 Diabetes to become a part of your life before you decide to take a moment to learn about it...to educate yourselves and share what you have learned with others. I hope that you will choose to stand up and reach for the stars in whatever you do in life...don't give in to complacency...don't lose that fire within...don't lose that hope.
Emma was diagnosed with Type 1 diabetes on June 26, 2008. She was 4 years old and about to start school for the very first time that September. She came to me in October and asked me if we could have a hot chocolate stand to raise money for the people looking for a cure for her diabetes. She wanted to help them. She wasn't willing to just sit back and remain quiet...let someone else take care of things...let someone else shout it from the rooftops that we need a cure. At 4 years old, she had enough social awareness to realize that if you want to make something happen, you need to open your mouth and tell someone...you need to reach for the stars and set goals for yourself that at the time may seem unattainable or out of your reach. So, on Nov. 14, 2008 we held our very first hot chocolate sale to raise money for JDRF. Emma managed to raise $1200 that night. I have so many memories of that night that make me smile. One image in particular though will stick with me for the rest of my life. I recall standing beside her and watching her talk to the local TV news reporter about her fundraiser. We were in the middle of a crowded grocery store, bright lights were shining in our eyes, and I looked down at her smiling face standing next to me...she looked like an angel to me...she was smiling from all of the excitement...she was beautiful...I saw deeper than that though...I saw the look in her eyes. I saw for the first time in her life, true pride in herself and what she had made happen. She was so overwhelmingly pleased that her idea that started out simply as a thought...a desire...a wish....had transformed into this...the reality which was now before her. It was amazing. I am so lucky that I got to be there with her and see her sweet face in that moment.
So, here we are about to have our 4th annual hot chocolate sale fundraiser. I feel a deep and raw sadness that we are still doing this...there is still not a cure. I hope that Emma doesn't ever get discouraged and doubt the power of this fundraiser. I hope she doesn't ever stop dreaming big.
I sat here tonight talking with her about Sir Frederick Banting and his life. I told her that he is a shining example of how important it is to be curious...to have that insatiable thirst for knowledge...to posess that perseverance and determination that will keep you going...keep striving...keep dreaming big and reaching for the impossible. I told her that you can never stop trying...never stop questioning...never stop learning...because once you do, once you succumb to that complacency and that stagnant way of thinking...all will be lost. I told her that one of the most important things in life that I wish for her is to continue to be curious and to continue to ask questions and educate herself.
So, here I sit...greatful beyond all belief for this man I have never met...and I hope that all of you reading this will not wait for Type 1 Diabetes to become a part of your life before you decide to take a moment to learn about it...to educate yourselves and share what you have learned with others. I hope that you will choose to stand up and reach for the stars in whatever you do in life...don't give in to complacency...don't lose that fire within...don't lose that hope.
Thursday, November 10, 2011
I know you
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
I will hold on
Sorry for all the poetry lately....but it's helping me to get it all out...
I will hold on
to all that is wrong
and dark and unfair.
I will grip it in my ceaselessly moving hands
with an intense passion threatening to take over my whole mind.
I will hold on
to all that is frightening and maddening
with a desperate attempt at staying afloat.
I will hold on
to all that is lost for good, never to return
with a fierceness that blooms within.
I will hold on
to the rope above that taunts me
swaying back and forth, promising
light and love and hope.
I will hold on
for dear life while struggling to win the fight,
grasping the mocking rope,
and pulling my head above water.
I will hold on
and furiously pull the immense weight of my unbearable thoughts
higher and higher
setting my sights on that light,
that love,
that hope.
I will hold on
and save myself from the bottomless abyss below
the deep and murky waters
that are constantly trying to pull me down,
down,
down.
I will hold on.
I will hold on
to all that is wrong
and dark and unfair.
I will grip it in my ceaselessly moving hands
with an intense passion threatening to take over my whole mind.
I will hold on
to all that is frightening and maddening
with a desperate attempt at staying afloat.
I will hold on
to all that is lost for good, never to return
with a fierceness that blooms within.
I will hold on
to the rope above that taunts me
swaying back and forth, promising
light and love and hope.
I will hold on
for dear life while struggling to win the fight,
grasping the mocking rope,
and pulling my head above water.
I will hold on
and furiously pull the immense weight of my unbearable thoughts
higher and higher
setting my sights on that light,
that love,
that hope.
I will hold on
and save myself from the bottomless abyss below
the deep and murky waters
that are constantly trying to pull me down,
down,
down.
I will hold on.
Monday, November 7, 2011
A moment of anger
This poem is going to make me seem like I have anger issues...or maybe that I'm even a bit unstable...lol...which I suppose I am in a certain way...diabetes has made me that way. I'm really not though, I'm not an angry person in general...I just had a bad evening...and I had to get this out...and now I feel a little better.
Pure electric anger coursing rapid fire through my veins
igniting that flame
spitting out sparks and bursting forth a plume of bright orange insanity
a dull ache all across the top of my head
and I know...
without a shadow of a doubt...
this is it...
this is how it will always be...
this is ours
Our version of the proverbial dream
Do I let those flames overtake me,
grab hold and envelop my body
suffocating...
choking back the tears...
causing me to scream and writhe in relentless agony?
Or do I smother them and allow the smokey hatred to pour out,
float away into the misty nothingness of the night sky?
I have no choice
With the pulsing heartbeat of madness breathing down my neck
I fill my lungs with the chaotic air surrounding me and...
once again I blow out those flames,
Forcing myself to be content with the glowing embers of determination
Pure electric anger coursing rapid fire through my veins
igniting that flame
spitting out sparks and bursting forth a plume of bright orange insanity
a dull ache all across the top of my head
and I know...
without a shadow of a doubt...
this is it...
this is how it will always be...
this is ours
Our version of the proverbial dream
Do I let those flames overtake me,
grab hold and envelop my body
suffocating...
choking back the tears...
causing me to scream and writhe in relentless agony?
Or do I smother them and allow the smokey hatred to pour out,
float away into the misty nothingness of the night sky?
I have no choice
With the pulsing heartbeat of madness breathing down my neck
I fill my lungs with the chaotic air surrounding me and...
once again I blow out those flames,
Forcing myself to be content with the glowing embers of determination
The art of public speaking for me
Believe it or not I am a shy person by nature. I do not like to be the center of attention or have all focus on me. I do not like public speaking, I have a tendency to fumble my words, stutter, and forget important things that I had every intention of saying when it comes down to it. I am much better at writing things out. It's easier for me to get the words out on paper (or computer for that matter!) It's comfortable...safe...easy for me to handle things that way. I remember being back in high school and having to stand up in class and give an oral report on something I was assigned. That was pure torture for me. For some reason, whenever I am extremely nervous I have a tendency to yawn....yep....yawn. So I appear totally bored with the situation going on around me...which in turn makes everyone bored as well I think. Ahhh...if only I could go through life without speaking and just write everything down instead.
Since diabetes came into our lives, I have found myself having to overcome that fear time and time again. I've found myself reaching out to others in our diabetic community...talking to them about this life, helping those that are newly diagnosed, and simply trying to raise awareness. I've found myself in front of cameras, on the radio, and even speaking to newspaper reporters. Don't get me wrong, I am extremely happy and honored to have that opportunity to get the word out there...to try to educate and advocate for our kiddos. I wouldn't have it any other way honestly. No matter how nervous I get, how shaky my hands are, how sweaty my palms become...or how I struggle to get the words out between yawns....I will continue to immerse myself in these situations. I will do it until a cure is found. I will do it simply because I think it's important to get the word out...to perhaps make people understand...instill a little bit of a spark of knowledge in their minds so that they will realize the seriousness of this disease. I will endure the seemingly terrifying shyness of talking to strangers about diabetes until the day comes where I don't have to do it anymore...simply because I want a cure. I want it so bad that I can taste it. Sometimes I feel like we are so close...it is just outside of our reach...just beyond the tips of my fingers. I can feel it there and I want it so bad that it hurts. I sit here typing this with tears in my eyes because of that pain. I want that day to come so I can somehow reverse or make up for that awful gut wrenching pain of diagnosis day. I sometimes feel like I have spent the last 3 1/2 years trying to "make up" for that day to Emma...trying to gloss things over and make her see the positives all the time...trying to brush it off like diabetes will never beat us...we are far too strong to let it win. All of those finger pokes, insulin injections, pump site changes, bloodwork, clinic visits, lows, highs, fears, worries, stresses, close calls.....all of those things will not define us...we are bigger than this life we were given and this hand we were dealt. So, here I sit...waiting for that cure day...so I can rejoice and attempt to erase the horridness of that moment where I had to say, "Emma...I'm sorry baby...but the doctors say that you have diabetes." I know that I will never fully be able to erase that moment in time...that minute of our lives...that single sentence. But I will do my best to try. I will endure the fear, the nervousness, the shyness, the feelings of inadequacy...all for the sake of making it...surviving till that day comes where I can shout those words from the rooftops and scream at the top of my lungs, "EMMA...SWEETIE, THEY FOUND A CURE!!"
Since diabetes came into our lives, I have found myself having to overcome that fear time and time again. I've found myself reaching out to others in our diabetic community...talking to them about this life, helping those that are newly diagnosed, and simply trying to raise awareness. I've found myself in front of cameras, on the radio, and even speaking to newspaper reporters. Don't get me wrong, I am extremely happy and honored to have that opportunity to get the word out there...to try to educate and advocate for our kiddos. I wouldn't have it any other way honestly. No matter how nervous I get, how shaky my hands are, how sweaty my palms become...or how I struggle to get the words out between yawns....I will continue to immerse myself in these situations. I will do it until a cure is found. I will do it simply because I think it's important to get the word out...to perhaps make people understand...instill a little bit of a spark of knowledge in their minds so that they will realize the seriousness of this disease. I will endure the seemingly terrifying shyness of talking to strangers about diabetes until the day comes where I don't have to do it anymore...simply because I want a cure. I want it so bad that I can taste it. Sometimes I feel like we are so close...it is just outside of our reach...just beyond the tips of my fingers. I can feel it there and I want it so bad that it hurts. I sit here typing this with tears in my eyes because of that pain. I want that day to come so I can somehow reverse or make up for that awful gut wrenching pain of diagnosis day. I sometimes feel like I have spent the last 3 1/2 years trying to "make up" for that day to Emma...trying to gloss things over and make her see the positives all the time...trying to brush it off like diabetes will never beat us...we are far too strong to let it win. All of those finger pokes, insulin injections, pump site changes, bloodwork, clinic visits, lows, highs, fears, worries, stresses, close calls.....all of those things will not define us...we are bigger than this life we were given and this hand we were dealt. So, here I sit...waiting for that cure day...so I can rejoice and attempt to erase the horridness of that moment where I had to say, "Emma...I'm sorry baby...but the doctors say that you have diabetes." I know that I will never fully be able to erase that moment in time...that minute of our lives...that single sentence. But I will do my best to try. I will endure the fear, the nervousness, the shyness, the feelings of inadequacy...all for the sake of making it...surviving till that day comes where I can shout those words from the rooftops and scream at the top of my lungs, "EMMA...SWEETIE, THEY FOUND A CURE!!"
Saturday, November 5, 2011
The stillness of the night
So, I walked to the park with Emma tonight after supper and these words came crashing into my mind...so now that the house is quiet and I am the only one awake...I decided to write them in a poem.
Down the long and winding road we go
hand in hand...weathering the cold as one
The moonlight shining down upon your face
casting an innocent glow
an ease and comfort...peaceful and lovely
surrounding us, leaving behind an afterglow so bright,
like a flashbulb trail in the night.
My breath puffs out before me which each step
a brief cloud which my body crashes through
as we move ever onward...
and all the while you will smile.
The stillness of the night...
the moment...the fight
is not lost on me in this time.
We will rise above and soar the skies
leaving footprints on the stars that pass us by.
Side by side
we will master this life,
and leave behind an echo of laughter
in the cold dark night.
Down the long and winding road we go
hand in hand...weathering the cold as one
The moonlight shining down upon your face
casting an innocent glow
an ease and comfort...peaceful and lovely
surrounding us, leaving behind an afterglow so bright,
like a flashbulb trail in the night.
My breath puffs out before me which each step
a brief cloud which my body crashes through
as we move ever onward...
and all the while you will smile.
The stillness of the night...
the moment...the fight
is not lost on me in this time.
We will rise above and soar the skies
leaving footprints on the stars that pass us by.
Side by side
we will master this life,
and leave behind an echo of laughter
in the cold dark night.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Doing things for others makes YOU feel good
Today is Random Act of Kindness Day and I tried my best to spread some love around. I wanted to let all of you in the blog world know that I truly appreciate you. I love being able to pour out all of my thoughts, fears, and stresses on here and get support from you all. I started out writing this blog to hopefully reach someone who was just starting out on this path...someone who was lost in the dark, scared, worried, terrified that they wouldn't be able to handle this new life. I wrote it for them in the hopes that my words would give them some comfort in knowing that they are not alone in the dark...I am standing right there beside them sometimes fumbling in the dark for my trusty flashlight to help us find the way to smoother ground....and sometimes I have my giant spotlight held high above my head illuminating the difficult path and making it look like the noon day sun is shining down upon us. Little did I know though that I would also wind up writing this blog for myself. I have found it to be sort of like my little free therapy session. If I am having a horrible time struggling with getting things under "control" and figuring out what to do while bumbling around in the dark hoping to find my footing and solid ground again, I know that I can get it all out here...I can empty out my head...let the words, tears, and emotions flow from my aching head all the way down to my fingers and just get it out. I found myself posting my blog and checking back now and again to see if there were any comments on it...just so I could get your perspective on things...so I could feel that same same...that connection...the love. I want you to know that it means the world to me to read your comments. I think you are all amazing people and I am truly greatful to have you in my life.
So, I started this day by buying a coffee for the person in the drive thru line behind me at Tim Hortons, I hugged Emma and told her I love her and how much she means to me, and I wrote a little note to my facebook friends and family...a little note to try to explain to them how much they mean to me...just to brighten their day. It took me all day pretty much...and it was beyond worth it. My intentions for doing it were to make my friends smile and to make them feel loved and special...but as the day wore on and I kept receiving replies back on my comments to them...I learned one of life's most important lessons.
Doing things for others makes you feel good.
I learned that making someone else smile....makes ME smile. I walked around today with a big smile on my face knowing that I am a lucky girl. Diabetes may have come into our lives and caused an unimaginable amount of pain, stress, worry, and fear....but it has also brought me all of you. It has shown me that I am not alone...I would be lost without all of you. So, I went about my day...did my grocery shopping, even helped an elderly man find some 1% milk in the dairy section, did my D-Momma duties for the day, and lived my normal life....all the while with a huge smile on my face and a warm feeling in my heart. Thank you for making this day special for me.
So, I started this day by buying a coffee for the person in the drive thru line behind me at Tim Hortons, I hugged Emma and told her I love her and how much she means to me, and I wrote a little note to my facebook friends and family...a little note to try to explain to them how much they mean to me...just to brighten their day. It took me all day pretty much...and it was beyond worth it. My intentions for doing it were to make my friends smile and to make them feel loved and special...but as the day wore on and I kept receiving replies back on my comments to them...I learned one of life's most important lessons.
Doing things for others makes you feel good.
I learned that making someone else smile....makes ME smile. I walked around today with a big smile on my face knowing that I am a lucky girl. Diabetes may have come into our lives and caused an unimaginable amount of pain, stress, worry, and fear....but it has also brought me all of you. It has shown me that I am not alone...I would be lost without all of you. So, I went about my day...did my grocery shopping, even helped an elderly man find some 1% milk in the dairy section, did my D-Momma duties for the day, and lived my normal life....all the while with a huge smile on my face and a warm feeling in my heart. Thank you for making this day special for me.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
This is HER disease
As I stood on the playground at school with Emma this morning, I got to see a little glimpse of exactly how much diabetes means to her. She was standing there chatting and giggling away with one of her friends from class. This particular little girl has a tendency to be more on the hyper side...flitting about talking a mile a minute about anything and everything that pops into her head. It's kind of amusing to me because I'm not used to that sort of behavior really. Don't get me wrong, Emma has her moments of hyperness and craziness, but for the most part she is a pretty mellow easy going kid. So, when I am around a kid who leans more toward the hyper side of life...it makes me giggle.
Anyway, I stood there hanging on to my trusty sidekick, the froggie bag that contains Emma's BG meter, strips, lancet, and a couple of snacks for in case she goes low. Well, like a flash of lightening...this little girl snatches the bag from my hands and starts talking to the frog and tossing it back and forth in her hands. I didn't really think anything of it simply because the bag is well padded, zippered shut, and I was standing right there. I knew that the froggie cuteness was a bit too much for her to not want to get a closer look at it.
Emma however was NOT so understanding or patient. The look on her face instantly changed from big smiles and laughter to panic and anger...possesiveness. She did NOT want this little girl to be touching her meter bag. She did NOT want her to have it in her hands at all! I saw my normally docile and calm child run over rip the froggie bag from her friends hands. I saw Emma give her a look of complete and total anger and yell at her to give it back...it wasn't her bag...she can't touch it...it's HER meter inside and she can't touch it! I stood there watching my sweet girl reclaim her bag and shove it back in my hands...and then take it even one step further by standing protectively in front of my...blocking her friend from possibly taking the froggie bag again.
It was quite the display really. Over the past 3 years 4 months and 7 days, I can honestly say that I haven't heard much in the way of what she really thinks about her diabetes. There have really only been maybe 3 occasions where she has suddenly burst into tears about how she wishes she didn't have it and how she misses how life was before she had it. I have not once ever seen her show such emotion over her meter though. I've never seen her show such a display of possesiveness. At first it made me laugh inside thinking how silly it was really...to get so upset over something like a meter bag. As I walked back home alone though, I had more time to think about it...more time to try and understand where my child was coming from. I got it. I got it as much as any parent of a type 1 diabetic child could possibly get it. This is HER disease...HER pump...HER blood sugar fluctuations...HER health...HER froggie bag that contains HER meter. As much as she appreciates my help in managing it and taking care of her....it is still HER disease...only HERS. It is the one thing in this world in her 7 year old mind that belongs to her and HER alone. Sure she knows there are millions of other diabetics out there...but this life...this fight...it is HERS. I am merely a player...a supporting actor...the one standing on the side...waiting in the wings offstage while SHE is the one LIVING with this disease center stage. All that goes along with diabetes...the numbers, the blood, the carbs, the tools...including her meter bag...it's all HERS. I walked up my street and approached my front door with a smile on my face realizing how proud of her I am...how proud I was to see her stand up for herself...feet placed firmly on the ground beneath her and make it known that she owns this...it doesn't define her or control her or rule her world...but she has that fire in her belly...that fight...it's there...and I am impressed and happy to have gotten to see it come out this morning.
Anyway, I stood there hanging on to my trusty sidekick, the froggie bag that contains Emma's BG meter, strips, lancet, and a couple of snacks for in case she goes low. Well, like a flash of lightening...this little girl snatches the bag from my hands and starts talking to the frog and tossing it back and forth in her hands. I didn't really think anything of it simply because the bag is well padded, zippered shut, and I was standing right there. I knew that the froggie cuteness was a bit too much for her to not want to get a closer look at it.
Emma however was NOT so understanding or patient. The look on her face instantly changed from big smiles and laughter to panic and anger...possesiveness. She did NOT want this little girl to be touching her meter bag. She did NOT want her to have it in her hands at all! I saw my normally docile and calm child run over rip the froggie bag from her friends hands. I saw Emma give her a look of complete and total anger and yell at her to give it back...it wasn't her bag...she can't touch it...it's HER meter inside and she can't touch it! I stood there watching my sweet girl reclaim her bag and shove it back in my hands...and then take it even one step further by standing protectively in front of my...blocking her friend from possibly taking the froggie bag again.
It was quite the display really. Over the past 3 years 4 months and 7 days, I can honestly say that I haven't heard much in the way of what she really thinks about her diabetes. There have really only been maybe 3 occasions where she has suddenly burst into tears about how she wishes she didn't have it and how she misses how life was before she had it. I have not once ever seen her show such emotion over her meter though. I've never seen her show such a display of possesiveness. At first it made me laugh inside thinking how silly it was really...to get so upset over something like a meter bag. As I walked back home alone though, I had more time to think about it...more time to try and understand where my child was coming from. I got it. I got it as much as any parent of a type 1 diabetic child could possibly get it. This is HER disease...HER pump...HER blood sugar fluctuations...HER health...HER froggie bag that contains HER meter. As much as she appreciates my help in managing it and taking care of her....it is still HER disease...only HERS. It is the one thing in this world in her 7 year old mind that belongs to her and HER alone. Sure she knows there are millions of other diabetics out there...but this life...this fight...it is HERS. I am merely a player...a supporting actor...the one standing on the side...waiting in the wings offstage while SHE is the one LIVING with this disease center stage. All that goes along with diabetes...the numbers, the blood, the carbs, the tools...including her meter bag...it's all HERS. I walked up my street and approached my front door with a smile on my face realizing how proud of her I am...how proud I was to see her stand up for herself...feet placed firmly on the ground beneath her and make it known that she owns this...it doesn't define her or control her or rule her world...but she has that fire in her belly...that fight...it's there...and I am impressed and happy to have gotten to see it come out this morning.
Wash it all away
I wish I could wash it all away
One swipe of the hot steaming cloth full of holes...
gripped tightly in my hand...tattered and weary
washed away forever
Be rid of the ache that threatens to burst through my chest
Cease the pounding sound of my own heart
that echos in my wasted ears
washed away forever
that which leaves me on the verge of choking uncontrollable sobs
gasping for just one more breath of sweet air...
sweet as that first taste of watermelon on a hot July day
washed away forever
I wish I could wash it all away
and be left clean and new
free from scars and worry
Left standing there in a puddle of old
dripping down from my soul
leaving tracks behind to serve as a reminder
never forget
left standing there watching as it pools around my feet
before slipping away
disappearing in the dark emptiness
leaving me new
leaving me whole again
leaving me
One swipe of the hot steaming cloth full of holes...
gripped tightly in my hand...tattered and weary
washed away forever
Be rid of the ache that threatens to burst through my chest
Cease the pounding sound of my own heart
that echos in my wasted ears
washed away forever
that which leaves me on the verge of choking uncontrollable sobs
gasping for just one more breath of sweet air...
sweet as that first taste of watermelon on a hot July day
washed away forever
I wish I could wash it all away
and be left clean and new
free from scars and worry
Left standing there in a puddle of old
dripping down from my soul
leaving tracks behind to serve as a reminder
never forget
left standing there watching as it pools around my feet
before slipping away
disappearing in the dark emptiness
leaving me new
leaving me whole again
leaving me
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