Thursday, April 26, 2012

Dear Levi,

Dear Levi,

You are not yet three but you have gone through so much and you are such an amazing trooper.  I started this blog because I had so many feelings pent up inside but then I realized one day, you might read this.  I don't know how to explain to you why I have to hurt you sometimes or why I have to sometimes say no to you.  Jack and Carolyn try so hard to help you but how does one so little understand what we are trying to do.

Today was your pump start.  I had read every page of the pump manual and I had worn the pump for a week.  In all fairness I wanted to be done with it and take it off. I know that is not an option for you.  Having Daddy restrain you while you screamed and I tried to do the insertion was horrible.  No parent wants to hurt their child.  No parent wants their child at the hospital either.  I hate having to hurt you.  I had promised you ice cream so ice cream it was - even at 10:30 in the morning.  We took you to McDonalds and you were so happy to have a hot fudge sundae.  The lady looked at me funny when we ordered it and in my head I was thinking "don't you dare mess with me today". 

I didn't expect to cry so much today.  All the feelings of diagnosis day just came back so strong.  I felt nauseous driving to the doctor and I felt nervous and sick to my stomach.  It's 12 hours later and I'm just feeling less anxious now.  I panicked and thought the pump site had gone bad.  I second guessed my decision on which insertion device to use.  I second guess every decision I make on how much insulin I give you and how many carbs every thing is.  And knowing this will never end is tough.  There's no finish line in sight. 

We're going to your "little carbs" playgroup tomorrow and I want to show you the other little tykes that have pumps too.  I'm hoping that you will make connections with other kids with D and as you grow up, these will be your friends that you can confide in and complain to.

Little man - you're so tough and so joyous and so strong.  Our family can learn a lot from you.  We won't let you down - even if we cry a lot along the way.

Love,
Mommy



Wednesday, April 25, 2012

A Mother's Anthem

*Taken from another mom

A Mother's Anthem

I am the mother of a diabetic child.
I don’t know what it’s like to go to sleep at night and know for certain my child will wake up in the morning.

I don’t know what it’s like to sleep the whole night through without waking up to do blood tests on my sleeping child.
I don’t know what it’s like to prepare a meal without a calculator, measuring cups, and a gram scale.

I don’t know what it’s like to drop my child off at school and know she will always be in the charge of someone who knows how to take care of her.

I do know what it’s like to force feed sugar in the middle of the night knowing I am sacrificing my child’s teeth to save her life.

I do know what it’s like to draw up insulin at 2 am and pray to God I’m not too sleepy to make a fatal error in judgment, technique or calculation.

I do know what it’s like to sit underneath the dining room table holding my sobbing child, explaining to her, “No, we can’t take a break just this one time.” while I inject insulin into her already bruised arm.

I do know what it’s like to walk away from the pharmacy counter with an armload of supplies
and realize I’ve just gone through another box of 200 syringes.

I do know what it’s like to help my child march bravely past the juice and cookies at the school reception that was supposed to be her reward for achieving Student of the Month.

I do know what it’s like to look into my child’s eyes and tell her she has an incurable disease
and explain to her what that means, and then to be comforted by her when I’m the one who can’t stop sobbing.

I do know what it’s like to love and cherish my child every minute of every day,
To know that I may someday donate a kidney to her,
And that if she were in need of a heart, mine would be out of the question,
Because it broke a long time ago.

I am the mother of a diabetic child.