Tomorrow marks an anniversary that we never knew we'd look forward to. Not because it marks something that's super worth celebrating, but that we've survived. Collin has survived, the other kids have survived, and we've survived while getting everyone from point A to point B for a year.
A year ago tonight, I went to bed a normal frazzled mom of four healthy and normal and wonderful kids. I woke up the next morning to a three year with with an earache and a six year old who'd peed the bed again, a day's worth of sub plans to scramble to get together, and if you know me, you already know what happened.
What a difference a year makes. It would have been very easy for us to wallow and feel sorry for the hand that Son Number One was dealt, but as we've told him hundreds of times, we love him just as he is, and Type 1 Diabetes is a part of him now. Some days it would be easy to grouch, gripe, or wallow, and then I remember how much easier it would be if I were a 7 year old kid. And so we will plaster on our smiles and press onward, and do our best. Some days it's good, some days it could be better, and every day is a new day.
From the very first day of his diagnosis, I've been blessed countless times by the kindness of others. From our awesome pediatrician who doubted my mom-diagnosis, and then stayed extra with us to tell us about her Type 1 son once our diagnosis was all but sure. Every staff member we interacted with at the University during the hospital stay, especially our amazing nurse Laurie whose laugh was a bright spot in some tough days. The friends who took great care to prepare some diabetic friendly meals in the days after we came home from the hospital. The nurses and researchers who have helped care for him when we're at the hospital for clinical trial visits, and who take great care to make sure he picks something really cool from the prize closet. The staff--teachers, associates, bus drivers, secretaries, and our school nurse--at school who constantly are going above and beyond for him. The local Lion's Club who came to me within a couple of days of being home from the hospital to tell me that they'd love to send him to a summer camp for kids with diabetes. The staff members at Camp Hertko Hollow--every single one of them. To the parents of other Type 1 kids who have been a source of information as well as support. To our family and our friends who have been learning so much right along with us... People I didn't know would find their way into our lives, but to whom we are eternally grateful.
I've administered more shots to my child than any parent should have to, become a pro at counting carbs for meals and predicting the subsequent changes in blood sugar. Our home has sharps containers sitting around, and you'll probably find more than one diabetic test strip laying around (because 7 year olds...). We've learned the difference between sugar free and no sugar added... We know we can carry OUR bag into Kinnick stadium when others can't (this was kind of a big deal!)... We've come to rely on technology to alert us of high or low blood sugars, and a plethora of other details that we never expected to be important. But that's not the big stuff.
We've learned that we can count on our seven year old to know what to do and how to respond in a situation that may be scary to others. He knows when he needs to eat carbs, when to test ketones, when to calibrate his glucose sensor, how to administer his own insulin, and how to tell others about diabetes. We've learned that the emotional roller coaster he is sometimes on must seem bigger and scarier to him than it does to us, and so we have to model calm as much as we can. We know that he is still destined for greatness, even if the path he's on to get there may have gone a slightly different direction. We've learned that he probably won't be an astronaut or a fighter pilot--and we are ALL good with that.
Everyone would do well to take a page from Son Number One's book. Be grateful always, even when you're 7 and have more shots every day than most people have in a year. Be kind. There's literally no reason not to be. Look on the bright side. Could things be better? Always. But they could always be worse, too. Take every opportunity you can to educate yourself and be your best advocate. Doesn't matter if you're 6 ot 60--knowledge is power, and the sooner that you realize that, the better off you'll be. Ask him, he is really active in his care. (He has an appointment next week and "can't wait" to see what his A1C is... Because of course he can't.
Anyway. It's been a year. It's been a long year, and a year that I didn't hope to have, but that I'm grateful to have survived along with one of the best kids a mama could ever hope for.
Monday, January 7, 2019
Monday, July 2, 2018
Camp Hertko Hollow, C’s First Year
It’s been amost 6 Months since Son Number One’s Type 1 diagnosis. He was diagnosed on a Monday, discharged from the hospital on a Wednesday or maybe Thursday, and by the Sunday after he was diagnosed, I had already been approached by a community member I’ve known since my own childhood about camp. I was on my way out to run an errand, and Ruth was walking by and stopped me to ask about how Son Number One was doing, as she had heard of his diagnosis. I told her we were doing as well as we could be. And in the next breath, she said “Well, The Lions Club will help send him to camp in the summer.” And that was that. We got materials for camp and got him signed up VERY early, and life happened for a few months... and then last week, he went to camp.
And it was the best experience for him.
Camp Hertko Hollow is held at the Des Moines Y Camp outside of Boone, Iowa. It’s a drive out into the country, down some nondescript Iowa gravel roads. Being our first year as a Diabetes camp family, we didn’t know what to expect after driving 3 hours to drop off our 7 year old for a few days with strangers. As soon as we turned into the parking lot, his eyes got big, and he was more excited than nervous. He saw that there were cabins with two levels, and he wanted to be in one of those. After a thorough check-in process that included meeting with medical staff, talking about insulin dosages, and the obligatory camp head-lice check (which he passed—thank goodness! Ha!), we set off to unpack his stuff and get him settled. Much to his delight, he was in the top floor of the very cabin he hoped for—Deer Valley. (It was the one we hoped for, too, since it’s the one we parked right in front of....!) We met one of his counselors and he picked his (obviously top) bunk out. There were already a couple of other campers there, so he was at ease right away. And then his other counselor offered him a snack of Cheetos (only 14 grams of carbs, mom!!), and he grinned and that was that.... he was hooked, so we gave our hugs and were on our way home.
I picked him up on Wednesday morning and the highlight reel is as follows...
1. Food was good! I loved it all!
2. They came around and checked blood sugar every night, which was weird, but fine.
3. The rock climbing wall was awesome.
4. My counselors were awesome, one has Type 1 like me and was diagnosed when he was 2!
5. We had S’Mores!
6. Even my nighttime insulin was in a cool pen here.
7. Swimming was fun. I didn’t pass the test... but they had cool goggles.
8. I for sure want to come back next year for a whole week.
9. The girls wouldn’t let us see the frogs they found... (this really bothered him!)
10. “I think I’d like to be a counselor when I’m older, like my counselors. I could help kids, too!”
There were more, but it sounded like an amazing time, and we’ve already made plans for him to hang out with his “BFF” (his words) from camp who lives pretty close to us. I am so grateful he had this opportunity to go and become a part of such a community. Type 1 is not a blessing... but getting to know all of these awesome people certainly was. I can’t say enough good things about the camp experience for him... it was just that good. My mom heart was bursting when I saw his huge grin when I picked him up, and it still is when I think of what a whirlwind the last 6 Months have been for him, and how far we’ve all come.
I am having issues getting photos to upload; I will work on it again when I’m by my laptop. Technology on my iPhone is holding me back tonight.
Only 51 weeks until next year’s camp! ;)
And it was the best experience for him.
Camp Hertko Hollow is held at the Des Moines Y Camp outside of Boone, Iowa. It’s a drive out into the country, down some nondescript Iowa gravel roads. Being our first year as a Diabetes camp family, we didn’t know what to expect after driving 3 hours to drop off our 7 year old for a few days with strangers. As soon as we turned into the parking lot, his eyes got big, and he was more excited than nervous. He saw that there were cabins with two levels, and he wanted to be in one of those. After a thorough check-in process that included meeting with medical staff, talking about insulin dosages, and the obligatory camp head-lice check (which he passed—thank goodness! Ha!), we set off to unpack his stuff and get him settled. Much to his delight, he was in the top floor of the very cabin he hoped for—Deer Valley. (It was the one we hoped for, too, since it’s the one we parked right in front of....!) We met one of his counselors and he picked his (obviously top) bunk out. There were already a couple of other campers there, so he was at ease right away. And then his other counselor offered him a snack of Cheetos (only 14 grams of carbs, mom!!), and he grinned and that was that.... he was hooked, so we gave our hugs and were on our way home.
I picked him up on Wednesday morning and the highlight reel is as follows...
1. Food was good! I loved it all!
2. They came around and checked blood sugar every night, which was weird, but fine.
3. The rock climbing wall was awesome.
4. My counselors were awesome, one has Type 1 like me and was diagnosed when he was 2!
5. We had S’Mores!
6. Even my nighttime insulin was in a cool pen here.
7. Swimming was fun. I didn’t pass the test... but they had cool goggles.
8. I for sure want to come back next year for a whole week.
9. The girls wouldn’t let us see the frogs they found... (this really bothered him!)
10. “I think I’d like to be a counselor when I’m older, like my counselors. I could help kids, too!”
There were more, but it sounded like an amazing time, and we’ve already made plans for him to hang out with his “BFF” (his words) from camp who lives pretty close to us. I am so grateful he had this opportunity to go and become a part of such a community. Type 1 is not a blessing... but getting to know all of these awesome people certainly was. I can’t say enough good things about the camp experience for him... it was just that good. My mom heart was bursting when I saw his huge grin when I picked him up, and it still is when I think of what a whirlwind the last 6 Months have been for him, and how far we’ve all come.
I am having issues getting photos to upload; I will work on it again when I’m by my laptop. Technology on my iPhone is holding me back tonight.
Only 51 weeks until next year’s camp! ;)
Hello Summer!
As one would reasonably expect with a family like ours... there is always something going on. The past couple of months have been full to the brim of activity for all of us as the school year FINALLY wound to a close.
We participated in our first JDRF OneWalk for Diabetes research and had a good time with that. Our team raised over $2000 this year, which was a great accomplishment in our minds! Son number one was delighted seeing all of the other teams there, and said it was good knowing he’s not alone. I think that while we can tell him this until we are blue in the face, it is so much more real when he sees others like himself . Great event, we are already planning for next year.
All four kids have had birthdays since I last wrote here... so we now are the proud owners of a 9 year old, a seven year old, a four year old, and a one year old. I can’t believe how fast time is flying.... and how slow it seems to go some days. The days are long, but the years are short. I still try to soak up all of the things they do at all of their ages, though... because I know youth is fleeting.
We have done a little bit of traveling in summer so far, but most of our vacationing is still upcoming. Collin did go to camps but I am saving all things camp for another post. Mostly, we are staying up late and sleeping in, and loving life without strict schedules. 6 weeks left of break... :)
We participated in our first JDRF OneWalk for Diabetes research and had a good time with that. Our team raised over $2000 this year, which was a great accomplishment in our minds! Son number one was delighted seeing all of the other teams there, and said it was good knowing he’s not alone. I think that while we can tell him this until we are blue in the face, it is so much more real when he sees others like himself . Great event, we are already planning for next year.
All four kids have had birthdays since I last wrote here... so we now are the proud owners of a 9 year old, a seven year old, a four year old, and a one year old. I can’t believe how fast time is flying.... and how slow it seems to go some days. The days are long, but the years are short. I still try to soak up all of the things they do at all of their ages, though... because I know youth is fleeting.
We have done a little bit of traveling in summer so far, but most of our vacationing is still upcoming. Collin did go to camps but I am saving all things camp for another post. Mostly, we are staying up late and sleeping in, and loving life without strict schedules. 6 weeks left of break... :)
Tuesday, May 1, 2018
Keep on the Sunny Side...
It's a little... shall we say... "retro", but I can't help but have this song going through my head pretty frequently these days. It speaks to me.
If you know me, you know it's been a crazy few months. If anyone would have told me a year ago that this is what the next year would be like, I would have been skeptical. I would have maybe done some things differently, but probably not most of them. It's been a roller coaster ride. I used to like roller coasters. I don't anymore. The literal ones or the figurative ones. But that's what it's felt like.
There are still plenty of highs... like when the kids are all asleep by 9... or when we get to see friends... little boys laughing in the bathtub... movie night with the family... snuggles on Saturday mornings... weekend adventures as a family of 6... students who make me proud to be their teacher... the unexpected and humbling kindness of strangers... the expected kindness of friends and family.
And there are lows... Not always being able to meet every need of every kid at the moment I'm needed... disappointment... needles... insulin... sick kids... watching the news... constant sleep deprivation... your 6 year old sobbing and telling you he hates his life now... dwindling patience...
But they are all worth it, and are the things that make mamas (and dads) strong. And sometimes even when the sunny side isn't too bright. We will continue to be hopeful, we will continue to seek joy, and we will try to remember to always be grateful for the life we are living.
Well there's a dark and a troubled side of life
There's a bright and a sunny side too
But if you meet with the darkness and strife,
The sunny side we also may view
Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us every day, it will brighten all the way,
If we keep on the sunny side of life
Oh, the storm and its fury broke today,
Crushing hopes that we cherish so dear
Clouds and storms will in time pass away
The sun again will shine bright and clear
Keep on the sunny side, always on the sunny side,
Keep on the sunny side of life
It will help us every day, it will brighten all the way,
If we'll keep on the sunny side of life
Let us greet with a song of hope each day
Though the moments be cloudy or fair
Let us trust in our Savior always,
To keep us, every one, in His care
Sunday, March 4, 2018
You Look Tired.
If you've ever been a parent, you know what tired feels like.
If you have ever been a parent of more than one child, you really know what it's like to be tired.
If you are a parent of a baby, you know that kind of tired.
And three-year-old-obsessed-with-transformers tired. (that's a more elusive kind of tired, though, I think...)
And if you have ever been a single parent or had your spouse/significant other go away for any number of days every week, you know that tired.
And then there's the tired from lack of sunshine that winter brings, and the tired of extra job stuff... And the tired of when your house is sick and the kids and husband drop one by one...
And then the kid with the chronic illness gets it and that involves a whole slew of new challenges...
I am tired.
And then the baby needs your time because you're the mama, and only you know how he likes to have his back and bottom patted as he falls asleep when you're holding him and wishing he'd settle down... and only you know how he needs to be put in the bed just so so when he rolls over he doesn't bump the side and wake himself again and make you start rocking him all over again...
And then the three year old needs you because you cut his sandwiches the right way, and you can talk about transformers with him and look at picture after picture of old transformer toys while he tell you the names of most of them... And when his feelings are hard for him to process and he needs his mama, you are there. Of course.
And then when son number one needs an insulin injection or a ketone test or wants to talk about carbs and how much his life has changed... you talk to him about it often. And try hard not to worry about what the diagnosis entails for him.
And then the 8 year old needs mom time because girl talk is the best kind of talk. And to talk about fantasy books with magical spells and about how much she likes cheesecake (a lot), and to talk about boys as needed...
And the husband needs me because he spends the weeknights on his own, and has two days a week and change to really be present as part of our family...
And I try to do all of the things, and to be where I'm needed.
And everything is important, and every kid's need...
And I love them all...
But you get exhausted. I do.
But I don't know if I'd change anything. The same people who make me question my sanity on a daily basis are the same ones that I don't know what I'd do without.
And so if (er... when) you see me and I look tired, just assume that I am tired. Really tired. And know that I know this already, so telling me is optional. (and not encouraged)
If you have ever been a parent of more than one child, you really know what it's like to be tired.
If you are a parent of a baby, you know that kind of tired.
And three-year-old-obsessed-with-transformers tired. (that's a more elusive kind of tired, though, I think...)
And if you have ever been a single parent or had your spouse/significant other go away for any number of days every week, you know that tired.
And then there's the tired from lack of sunshine that winter brings, and the tired of extra job stuff... And the tired of when your house is sick and the kids and husband drop one by one...
And then the kid with the chronic illness gets it and that involves a whole slew of new challenges...
I am tired.
And then the baby needs your time because you're the mama, and only you know how he likes to have his back and bottom patted as he falls asleep when you're holding him and wishing he'd settle down... and only you know how he needs to be put in the bed just so so when he rolls over he doesn't bump the side and wake himself again and make you start rocking him all over again...
And then the three year old needs you because you cut his sandwiches the right way, and you can talk about transformers with him and look at picture after picture of old transformer toys while he tell you the names of most of them... And when his feelings are hard for him to process and he needs his mama, you are there. Of course.
And then when son number one needs an insulin injection or a ketone test or wants to talk about carbs and how much his life has changed... you talk to him about it often. And try hard not to worry about what the diagnosis entails for him.
And then the 8 year old needs mom time because girl talk is the best kind of talk. And to talk about fantasy books with magical spells and about how much she likes cheesecake (a lot), and to talk about boys as needed...
And the husband needs me because he spends the weeknights on his own, and has two days a week and change to really be present as part of our family...
And I try to do all of the things, and to be where I'm needed.
And everything is important, and every kid's need...
And I love them all...
But you get exhausted. I do.
But I don't know if I'd change anything. The same people who make me question my sanity on a daily basis are the same ones that I don't know what I'd do without.
And so if (er... when) you see me and I look tired, just assume that I am tired. Really tired. And know that I know this already, so telling me is optional. (and not encouraged)
Wednesday, February 21, 2018
sad and mad and hurting and confused and disappointed
The past week has been an emotional one for me. I don't really love to talk about my emotions, and sometimes I like to just pretend I'm a robot without any wild emotional response to current events... but not this week. I am sad and mad and hurting and confused and disappointed... My thoughts are usually more organized than this, so I apologize for being all over the place.
I am sad. I am sad that someone was hurting so much that he decided to go into a school, a safe place for CHILDREN and shoot and kill 17 people who'd done nothing to deserve that. I don't care what the background of that individual was, I am sad that ANY person would get to that point in their life and decide to commit such a heinous crime. I am sad for everyone who got out of that situation alive whose lives will never be the same, whose school experience will be forever changed, and who will have to try and go back to "normal" after what I expect is a life-changing event. I am sad for those precious lives that were lost, and promise that they had that was unfulfilled. Schools are supposed to be safe, and theirs wasn't. I am sad for the families whose loved ones didn't come home. I can't help but think of my own little people, and what I would do if something happened to one of them. I get teary now thinking about it, with a sick feeling in my stomach.
I'm mad. I'm mad that there have been so many school shootings in this country, and that so little has been done. And I am mad about how so many conversations about that go. I like to believe that everyone can agree that there is a gun violence problem in this country. And while I realize that the guns aren't violent on their own--they are certainly used violently far too often. I read something on facebook that said something to the effect of "If my kid hits someone one with a stick, I don't blame the stick--but I still take it away from my kid." THIS.
When they realized that too many people were being injured in car accidents, they installed seatbelts. They didn't blame the cars or make people stop driving them or take them away--but they made change.
When it was clear that pseudoephedrine/ephedrine products were being used in the manufacture of methamphetamine drugs, they regulated them and now you have to give them your ID to purchase the "good" cold medicine. You could even argue that most cold medicine users are responsible and are using the drugs for a cold... and they still regulate them.
People make the same argument for guns, and it makes me mad every single time. I believe that most gun owners are responsible citizens, same as I believe most people who buy cold medicine are. But when there was a problem with cold medicine being used for things it wasn't meant for--something changed. When guns are being used for something that they weren't intended to be used for--can't there be some discussion about how we can make changes to that part of this culture and tighten some things up?
It hurts that in my job as a MUSIC teacher, I have to think about what to do in case someone comes into my school building with a desire to hurt me and/or my students. When I became a music teacher, it was because I wanted to help to create more beauty and joy in the world and share some love and light to my students' lives. I still believe that music is super important and that I am adding beauty to the world... but it is disheartening to know that as a teacher I may be at some point expected to protect my kids---and they are all my kids while they are in my classroom---from someone who may want to harm them in some way. When I was in school (and I realize that it's been a few years since then...), this wasn't something that was ever a reality or something that we really needed to think about. I know times have changed... and it hurts to think about how much.
I am confused. I am confused by those elected officials who have the power to make change, who say that change needs to happen, and then who do nothing. I am confused by those who send thoughts and prayers and then do nothing further. I am confused by the fact that there have been so many school shootings and so little change to come from them.
I am disappointed that there are so few productive discussions to come from this. When I suggest that there be some common sense restrictions on guns, I am often met with horror and immediate dismissal. I don't want to take everyone's guns, I don't think all guns are bad, I don't think all gun owners are bad. I am disappointed that it feels like guns are more important than children. Let me just say that again. I am disappointed that in this country, it seems like unfettered access to firearms is more important than children's safety. And probably that's a bold not entirely true statement to make... but right now, it feels that way.
And so this is what I want. I want people to have real discussions. Uncomfortable ones. How do we fix this? How do we BEGIN to fix this? I think there need to be some limits in place. I think that things in schools need to change. I want to understand where people who don't feel as I do are coming from. I want to not have to worry about being safe in my workplace. I want my kids to feel safe at school. I don't want anyone to ever feel like going into a school and shooting children is a solution to any kind of problem. I want my job to be more about creating beauty and less about emergency flip charts.
How can we be the change? Seriously? Can we discuss?
Sunday, February 11, 2018
Type A-Ish
Sometimes at summer camp, people will do "trust falls" as a bonding experience. You know the ones. Someone stands up, crosses their arms over their chest, and falls backwards with the understanding that their team will catch them and not let them fall. Tonight, as I am pondering as I often do late at night, it seems to me like the entire business of of having a kid with Type 1 Diabetes is a giant years-long trust fall. We for sure won't let him fall all the way down... but there may be bobbles here and there and it sure won't look perfect. He has blindly put his faith in us--his team--and we have little option but to be there for him. I mean... if I'm not, well, you know. And so I am, and I do what I need to do, and I put my metaphorical arms out to catch him multiple times a day, and will continue doing so for many more days and nights, weeks, months, years.
Being a parent of any kid is much like an extended trust fall... one that starts and then just never stops. Probably ever. I'm learning that being the parent of a kid with an illness--no matter how well that kid is handling things (he's a freaking rock star...)--is like a two-fold exercise in trust. "Do I trust myself to make sure that his needs are being met?" and then "Are his needs being met?". It's one thing to know that you're making silly choices as a parent... Because we all do those things. Ice cream for breakfast once in a blue moon? Can't hurt. Sleep in until 11? Why not. One minute you're flying by the seat of your pants, and then the next minute the world stops and changes direction, and all of the sudden what's up is down, and the chaos that existed before is thrust into an awkward order that doesn't feel right.
I've always been a self-identifying "Type B" personality. Ask my parents... Ask my husband...Ask my friends from school... Ask my siblings... Ask pretty much anyone who's ever spent a great deal of time with me. I just feel more at ease with my life if it's "chill" or "zen" or some hybrid of those two things. But diabetes? Diabetes doesn't really do "Type B". Diabetes will come into your "chill" and "Zen" home and go all "Type A" right on your ass. Gone are the days of "anything goes", and in come the days of regimented and plotted out. My formerly carefree (haha, not really... but it's a nice image to have) days have been replaced with a giant color coded spreadsheet courtesy of my much more "Type A" husband, a routine that's not one I chose, and parameters for things that were imposed on our family rather than chosen.
This newfound order is chaos to me. I'm not used to the language of strict routines or having many set rules to follow as a parent. No more. New in my vocabulary are things like "Don't forget to poke a different finger...", "pick a different site tonight...", "Did we change the lancet....?'. "How many carbs were your snack?", and "yes, I know you don't want a shot before dinner... but you want dinner... so you have to have a shot.". None of these things that former "Type B" me would have said. Or thought. Or wanted to think or say. But this new "Type A-ish" me has to. And so l do.
A couple of mom friends with other special kiddos were having rough days today, and I saw as much on Facebook. And I so wish I could hug them both and say to them that former me sure wouldn't have understood, but now I do. That they are good enough, that their little people are in their lives purposefully... That they aren't alone... That I know how much they wish they could be the more "Type B" people they once were. That Type A-ish is OK. That they are doing such tough and important work. That it will be OK. That someday, they/we will miss these hard days and need to be needed again.
And so I will continue doing the hard work that I do... Checking the homework and sorting out friend issues for the Queen Bee. Preparing pasta made from beans (that looks like worms) and agreeing that Diabetes "Sucks and is stupid" with Son Number One. Remembering that The Feisty One is only three and still needs his mama hugs and loves, and that feelings are hard for little guys to process, and that talking Transformers to him is as important as talking weather or politics with grown-ups. Changing poopy diapers, picking up every tiny thing that he tries to grab on the floor before it reaches his mouth, and soaking up all of the toothy little smiles that come from the Baby Sloth... Remembering that it's OK to just tread water sometimes to keep from sinking.
And trying to be about as "Type B" as I can with all of the new "Type A" requirements in my life. And that Type "A-ish" may be the best I can do some days.
Being a parent of any kid is much like an extended trust fall... one that starts and then just never stops. Probably ever. I'm learning that being the parent of a kid with an illness--no matter how well that kid is handling things (he's a freaking rock star...)--is like a two-fold exercise in trust. "Do I trust myself to make sure that his needs are being met?" and then "Are his needs being met?". It's one thing to know that you're making silly choices as a parent... Because we all do those things. Ice cream for breakfast once in a blue moon? Can't hurt. Sleep in until 11? Why not. One minute you're flying by the seat of your pants, and then the next minute the world stops and changes direction, and all of the sudden what's up is down, and the chaos that existed before is thrust into an awkward order that doesn't feel right.
I've always been a self-identifying "Type B" personality. Ask my parents... Ask my husband...Ask my friends from school... Ask my siblings... Ask pretty much anyone who's ever spent a great deal of time with me. I just feel more at ease with my life if it's "chill" or "zen" or some hybrid of those two things. But diabetes? Diabetes doesn't really do "Type B". Diabetes will come into your "chill" and "Zen" home and go all "Type A" right on your ass. Gone are the days of "anything goes", and in come the days of regimented and plotted out. My formerly carefree (haha, not really... but it's a nice image to have) days have been replaced with a giant color coded spreadsheet courtesy of my much more "Type A" husband, a routine that's not one I chose, and parameters for things that were imposed on our family rather than chosen.
This newfound order is chaos to me. I'm not used to the language of strict routines or having many set rules to follow as a parent. No more. New in my vocabulary are things like "Don't forget to poke a different finger...", "pick a different site tonight...", "Did we change the lancet....?'. "How many carbs were your snack?", and "yes, I know you don't want a shot before dinner... but you want dinner... so you have to have a shot.". None of these things that former "Type B" me would have said. Or thought. Or wanted to think or say. But this new "Type A-ish" me has to. And so l do.
A couple of mom friends with other special kiddos were having rough days today, and I saw as much on Facebook. And I so wish I could hug them both and say to them that former me sure wouldn't have understood, but now I do. That they are good enough, that their little people are in their lives purposefully... That they aren't alone... That I know how much they wish they could be the more "Type B" people they once were. That Type A-ish is OK. That they are doing such tough and important work. That it will be OK. That someday, they/we will miss these hard days and need to be needed again.
And so I will continue doing the hard work that I do... Checking the homework and sorting out friend issues for the Queen Bee. Preparing pasta made from beans (that looks like worms) and agreeing that Diabetes "Sucks and is stupid" with Son Number One. Remembering that The Feisty One is only three and still needs his mama hugs and loves, and that feelings are hard for little guys to process, and that talking Transformers to him is as important as talking weather or politics with grown-ups. Changing poopy diapers, picking up every tiny thing that he tries to grab on the floor before it reaches his mouth, and soaking up all of the toothy little smiles that come from the Baby Sloth... Remembering that it's OK to just tread water sometimes to keep from sinking.
And trying to be about as "Type B" as I can with all of the new "Type A" requirements in my life. And that Type "A-ish" may be the best I can do some days.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)