​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.

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. 

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). 

One year ago today, our family's life changed...again. On January 14, 2016, my Little Guy was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. Unfortunately we were already familiar with the disease; Princess was diagnosed in 2008 when she was seven. Back then we were overwhelmed, but we didn't know anything about the disease, so the heavy emotions came later.

When our son was rushed to the hospital, we knew. Oh, how we knew. My heart hurt, heavy and burning in my chest. I couldn't talk, knowing I'd break down and weep on his frail shoulders. So instead I cuddled. I held my forty pound nine  year-old tight while he was pricked and prodded, while viles and viles of blood were taken from his skinny arms. 

And I knew. I knew what his future would be like. I knew the sleepless nights he and I (and Hubby...but mostly me) would face for the rest of our lives. I knew the eight to ten finger pricks he'd have to do...for the rest of his life. I knew I'd have to teach my boy who struggled with math how to count carbs. How to read a label and measure food. 

"If you're having 1 1/2 cups of cereal and 2/3 cup has 36 carbs, how many carbs are in 1 1/2 cups?" Yeah, try teaching a fourth grader who was in Title 1 math those equations. But we did. "You need .5 cc of insulin for every 25 carbs and you're eating 62 carbs. How much insulin do you need?" And he learned. Every snack, every meal is a math problem. 

But living with type 1 diabetes is so much more than math and finger pricks and shots. 

Princess and Little Guy can't leave the house without their testing kits. They need to make sure they have enough test strips, their pricker has a clean needle, their meter is working (they're both on the pump). They need to pack extra insulin bottles, back up pods, and my son has to pack Duoderm adhesives because he has alergic reactions to the adhesive on the pods. They also need to make sure they pack fast-acting carbs--they carry fruit snacks or juice boxes--for when their blood sugar drops quite low. They need to carry long-acting carbs like crackers or granola bars for when they feel like they're dropping, or need to hold steady. (And I won't even go into the whole celiac diagnosis for Little Guy--no crackers and so hard to find gluten and oat free bars for him!). 

They can't go to practice or start their game without testing their finger and making sure their blood sugar is in a good range. They have to think about their pod location and where it may come in contact during their event. (Last week, Little Guy's pod came off his leg during a basketball game after he took a tumble. He had to come off the court and we had to start a new pod...which can be a process).

My two diabetics are self-conscious in the summer. Until there's a cure, they'll always have a pod stuck to their arm, leg, belly or back. Without it, they'll die. If their insulin stops working in the middle of the night, death is that much closer for them.

If they get sick, they're more likely to have crazy blood sugar numbers, which can lead to ketoacidosis, and possibly death. If they don't manage their diabetes they could lose fingers, toes, legs. They could have kidney failure and need to go on kidney dialisis. They're more apt to have nerve damage, to go blind. Already Princess's eye sight has gone from 20-20 to...not so great.