So I was going to write a quick post updating you on this week. Its been a rough week for me. My hormones are completely out of whack as they are trying to normalize themselves back to what they were pre-pregnancy #1, which was almost 3 years ago (crazy huh?).
But I just can’t think about anything tonight other than the fact that I HATE diabetes.
Here’s what brought up the emotions.
It started on Wednesday.
Our church group is studying the concepts in “Lose it for Life.” This week we were talking about the things that stand in our way and keep us from making healthy choices.
As we were talking I shared the way my day goes with the boys. I mentioned how I have to think about food every 3-4 hours in order to feed S and when I feed S I usually have to come up with something to feed T. Its hard enough to feed a picky toddler but even harder to feed a picky toddler who has dietary restrictions.
When we were talking about how often I have to think about food and what to feed my picky eater, I started to realize how much of my day is taken up with feeding the boys and taking care of S’s diabetes.
Fastforward to tonight.
It was time for the nighttime check. The one that we always do before Aaron and I go to bed.
Aaron had fallen asleep on the floor while we were watching tv so I wasn’t expecting him to be up there helping me. S was so sound asleep. I hate waking him up when he is so tired. But I poked his precious little finger and took the sample.
He was high. 359. Not such a good thing.
Next we do a ketone strip to make sure that he does not have high ketones present. But I couldn’t see. The meter light wouldn’t come on. And his finger stopped giving me blood. It timed out and Aaron had to go get another ketone strip.
Take 2. Same deal. Meter would not light up, blood would not come out, and the strip timed out.
Meanwhile, I am milking his poor little finger and making him cry. His brother, in the crib next to him starts crying too. Hormonal mommy leaves the room, stomps down the stairs, throws the meter and lancet, and sits on the couch in tears.
Yeah, real mature. I know.
But it just got to me. I knew I was going to have to go back up and distrub the poor baby by giving him his shot of insulin. I knew that it was just another moment in the continuing cycle. And I just couldn’t take it.
My poor baby will always have to have finger pricks, insulin, and watch everything that he eats and does. He will always have to be careful to make sure that his sugars are balanced or he will end up in the hospital.
He will never get to just have a drink of Kool-aid, or a regular soda, or even just a simple glass of juice like other children can have. Even milk has to be covered and counted. He will never be able to just have a random piece of cake or sweet treat. And I’ll be honest, it bums me out.
Sure, he will be able to have those things. But not in the carefree manner that other kids can.
And the worst part is, I have to be the mean one who says no, who pokes his fingers (until he is old enough to do it himself and when daddy can’t do it), and who gives him his meds. I’m the one who spends all day and night making sure that he is healthy. And its hard, and tiring. Physically and emotionally.
So yes, I HATE diabetes. I hate the things it has taken away from my baby. I hate the way it causes him pain. I hate the time it steals from me. And I hate the fact that this is “all he will ever know.”
But I love my little man. I love him to pieces. And I am so grateful that he is still alive. I am grateful that we caught this disease before it caused any major complications. I am grateful that we have insurance that covers the supplies that we need to keep him healthy. I am grateful for the medical advances that have happened over the last few decades that allow him to lead a relatively normal life.
And I am so grateful that he is a trooper about it all.
In many ways, he is my hero. My super baby who is fighting the evil that is diabetes.
So I will continue on. I will be strong. “I can do all things through Him who strengthens me.” (Philippians 4:13) And I will push through my hatred for the disease. Because he needs me to.
Until there’s a cure…