Momma Said There'd Be Days Like This

Momma said there'd be days like this - there'd be days like this, Momma said...

Well, actually, NO ONE ever told me there would be days like this! Good thing - I may have run screaming...

Actually, I'm not really speaking of today. I'm speaking of days in general. Days past and days to come... D days.

In the hospital, I clearly remember a nurse telling me that it would be ok. That Sweetpea would be ok. That she would "just require a little more care" than before.

HA! That was the understatement of the year!

It is so hard to wrap your head around this.... One moment I had (or thought I had) a completely healthy child. Everything was right in my world. And then...it wasn't. Then I was in a car riding down the interstate on the way to the hospital not knowing how my life was about to change forever. Not realizing that that day would forever divide my world into BEFORE and AFTER.

It just so darn complicated. And not just complicated in terms of handling dosing and numbers and stuff. That is an entirely different post.

Complicated in terms of the emotions.

Part of me feels like I just need to "get over it". To "suck it up" and move on. And I do. I do what I need to do to get through each day. I can't have a breakdown each time something doesn't go right, each time a number is too high or too low.

But it builds. Slowly. Until I just feel like I'm going to explode.

I guess maybe I thought I'd be over it by now. I mean, isn't everyone else???

Maybe I've just gotten to the place where I'm no longer in survival mode and starting to feel everything I pushed aside for so long...

Kelly posted a comment to me yesterday that really hit home with me. She talked about how the first year is just SO HARD. And how she felt she was grieving so much. And was so angry. She wrote a wonderful post today about remembering... Read it here.

She's so right. Maybe that's what is wrong with me. I think I'm fine. I think I'm handling it. And then....WHAM. Grief. Honest to goodness grief. Bring you to your knees grief. Over the life that was but is no more. Over lost health. Over seeing your child in pain. Over knowing that her life will be... more complicated... than you would have chosen.

And it's not that I don't see the silver lining. It's not that I can't see the GOOD. I can. I do.

But the grief is still there.

Kelly mentioned it being like a broken heart. She's right. Maybe that's why it hurts so much. My heart is broken.

They never mentioned this in the hospital. Never mentioned that diabetes isn't something that you just get under control and then forget. I assumed it was. WRONG. They conveniently left out the part about checking and changing and correcting and worrying pretty much each and every day until.... eternity.

Meri just wrote this awesome post about living on the edge. Check it out here. I think she must have been living in my head because she explained EXACTLY how I've been feeling. Like a swift wind will come by and knock me off. Like I'm not sure I can handle one.more.thing.

Living on the edge is scary. It's a long fall.

But, like Meri said, the view from the edge is breathtaking.

So, I'm going to acknowledge the grief and the pain. Instead of trying to shrug it off - I have to deal with it. Move through it. Get to the place where it's not so fresh.

But while I'm doing that, I've got to remember to take in the view..

.

Drama Queen

Diabetes - You are SUCH a drama queen!

I mean, really, do you have to go to such lengths to get noticed?

It's not like we ignore you. We think about you every hour of every day. Honestly, we probably think about you even more than that. We never neglect you. We always treat you the best way we know how. We stay up nights to check on you. We check on you countless times during the day. We plan for you. We pack extra things for you. We spend lots of money on you! We worry about you ALL the time. What more do you want?!?

Why must you act up like this?

It's inconsiderate. Plain and Simple.

We FINALLY get you under control for 2 wonderful days - and then you go crazy again with the ear infection. Fine, I get it. She's sick. But tell me this...

WHY, when a 20% temp basal increase didn't even touch you all day long, do you suddenly decide to drop? And not just drop... CRASH.

46.

She was SLEEPING. I had to wake her up and beg her to drink. I couldn't tell if she was just sleeping or if she was close to being passed out. She wouldn't talk. She wouldn't respond to me. It was freaky. Why must you scare us like that?

And then you decide to be good all night. Sort of. Hovering her right at 'low' - 80-100 all night long. Waking her up at a nice number of 130.

But can you stay good? Oh, no. Did you want more attention? Is that why you went up to 300 at lunch?

And THEN, as if THAT wasn't enough, you decide to CRASH again.

51.

What do you think does to a little girl's body?

And now, at bedtime, with 2 HOURS of IOB (insulin on board), you're hovering at 100.

What will you do? Will you go up? Will you hold steady? Will you go down?

Why can't you just let us get some sleep? Why can't you just play fair and leave us alone?

Get over yourself, diabetes.

Your temper tantrums are hurting a little girl. A little girl who didn't ask for you to join her life. A little girl who never did ANYTHING to you.

Why can't you just play nice?

But you know what, diabetes? It doesn't matter. You can do whatever you want. Because the joke's on you. You can act up all you want but you can't change this:

She's stronger than you. She had to have felt terrible today with the roller coaster ride you've taken her on. But did she show it? No. She continued to dance and sing and be the happy little girl we know and love. Ha. So there.

And we won't quit. We won't give up. We'll never stop. There's nothing you can do about it. We will continue to 'manage' you. You can keep throwing your tantrums and giving us all you've got. Go ahead. Because you WON'T break us. Not gonna happen.

So, diabetes, I've got just 2 words for you:

BRING. IT.