Last year we raised over $2,500 for Juvenile Diabetes Research. Kids are resilient, aren't they? It's a good thing because there's a heck of a lot of stress that comes along with childhood...and parenting. Two years ago today, we rushed Little Guy to the hospital where he was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. Unfortunately, the disease wasn't new to us. Princess was diagnosed in 2008. It was traumatic back then, but the second time was even worse. The emotions, the fears, the reality of how life for our son, as well as our daughter, would never be the same, came crashing down on us.
Testing his finger by himself two days after coming home from the hospital. 1-16-16 Back when Princess was diagnosed, we knew nothing about the disease. We were scared and confused and unaware of all the challenges and obstacles that she'd have to work through. I'm glad we didn't know. It would have been too overwhelming.
Two years ago with LG, it was even worse because we knew what to expect. We knew how his life would forever change. We knew he would have to carry this with him for the rest of his life. Literally and figuratively.
LG didn't realize today was his Two-Year Diaversary. Probably because he accepted his disease and has moved forward. That's hard for me to do. Every day (Literally, EVERY single day. Every hour. Every meal. Every sleepover. Every event.) I think about his diabetes. He's sleeping late. Could his blood sugar be low? He's playing sports and looks tired. Is it because his blood sugar has dropped but he doesn't want to stop playing? He's having seconds or thirds. Did he put in enough insulin to cover all his carbs? Is he running high? Does he have ketones? He's at a sleepover. Oh, the worries are on triple overtime.
Two years ago with LG, it was even worse because we knew what to expect. We knew how his life would forever change. We knew he would have to carry this with him for the rest of his life. Literally and figuratively.
LG didn't realize today was his Two-Year Diaversary. Probably because he accepted his disease and has moved forward. That's hard for me to do. Every day (Literally, EVERY single day. Every hour. Every meal. Every sleepover. Every event.) I think about his diabetes. He's sleeping late. Could his blood sugar be low? He's playing sports and looks tired. Is it because his blood sugar has dropped but he doesn't want to stop playing? He's having seconds or thirds. Did he put in enough insulin to cover all his carbs? Is he running high? Does he have ketones? He's at a sleepover. Oh, the worries are on triple overtime.
I should learn from LG, though. While he absolutely hates diabetes and having an insulin pump attached to him twenty-four seven, three hundred sixty-five days a year, his personality hasn't changed a bit. He's still a goof. He asks the most random questions. He's still shy at school. He's still an adorable, spunky, handsome, eleven year old. My hovering and worrying only remind him he's different.
And he's not. He's not different. He lives with Type 1, but he's exactly the same boy he was when he was diagnosed. No. Wait. Actually, he's not. He's braver. Stronger. More independent. More mature. For this, I am thankful.
So while today will bring back memories of the night our family stayed in the emergency room crying around Little Guy's hospital bed, it's just another day for LG. We celebrate today as the beginning of a new life. One filled with promises, rainbows, and unicorns (those in the T1D world understand).
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