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..

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