Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Full Moon

(Lindsey, Meghan, Erin & Betsey)

It was a full moon last night! When a full moon happens, in this house, a number of things take place. Children act up, blood sugars seem to be a little funky, mood swings are a-plenty, fiestiness occurs. It's a love/hate for me. Full moon brings higher than normal high tide. I drive the water loop and soak in the salty smell that's abundant because of the excess water and the sounds of the ebb and flow are music to my ears; calming to my soul. The flip side is the quirkiness that comes with a full moon. Emotion. Lots of it. And usually enough to test your patience.


Betsey had her diabetes check up yesterday at Yale. An event I always look forward to, though nervously like a student preparing for a test. I love getting that hemoglobin count and seeing where we fare with diabetes control. For Betsey, it's more of a moment of being put under a microscope and measured by blood sugar numbers, basal rates, and testings per day and ratios, and sensitivity levels...... So much to think about to regulate a little person's growing body, on top of being a teenage girl. Who needs that crap? And on the eve of a full moon none the less.


The appointment went well. Her A1c is up a smidgy, 6.9 -- still below 7% which is where I want it, but hovering that fine line. Dr. Jen slipped in the number amidst conversation and was pleased with it...... I gave Bets a love tap on her arm and said, "Good Job, Betsey, See, still below a 7--that's GOOD!"



But I could see it. Her beautiful blue eyeballs. They were welling up.


"Its a little higher than last time," I said, "But still good Bets!" She nodded.


I knew. I could just see her body language. She loosened her posture and I could feel her slouch. This is a girl who loves getting extra help for classes so she can continue to make High Honors; Honor Roll isn't enough. I can't fault her for this, however, there is an incredible stress that comes with this. Expectations set too high and the result is often disappointment when it shouldn't be.


When Betsey cries, for whatever reason, it is a rare occasion. She is so head strong. So determined. So driven. She prides herself in keeping a stellar poker face. She smiles and it lights up the room. She laughs and its like an infectious disease. Its loud. And boisterous. And happy. And from her tummy. And few see this side of her because she's so composed most of the time. So when she cries, it's heartbreaking because it evokes a very deep emotion. Not a skinned knee. Or a hurt feeling from someone leaving her out of something. Or a bad grade. Or a dispute with friends.


This is her life. This is the path she's paving right now for her health for the rest of her life. This is BIG.


One time a boy in her class saw her testing. He made a face and proceeded to go on about how "gross" she was. It was "gross" that she had to poke her finger and bleed like that. "So gross."


That little shit wore her down. Just a few words. So hurtful. So disgustingly painful. She came home crying. She was so hurt.


I wanted to go beat that boy up myself.



It takes a good punch to get Betsey's tears rolling. Yesterday's appointment hit her hard; whether because she was disappointed with her A1c, the reality of the fact that whether or not she boluses for food and tests often DOES make a difference, or just the magnitude of the entire diabetes thing.



Maybe she's not testing enough. Maybe she should bolus for every thing she puts in her mouth. Maybe she should test before and after gym once in a while. And shucks, maybe even wear that sensor on her once in a while to see where her blood sugars are all through the day and night. Then we can fine tune. Better control.


Ohmygosh, so much for a 13 year old.


She was quiet on the ride home. Didn't say more than probably ten words. Then I dropped her off at school.


I love her.


I love the whole person she is. Even though she talks back, non stop, and tests me, and questions just about everything I say, right down to her math homework even though I know I'm right; she brings a feeling of hope. And goodness. And reality. And she's so vivacious. Her personality when allowed to break through her reserved shell is so energizing!



Her visit to Yale yesterday did its job. It gave her a glimpse into the reality of what she needs to do, day in and day out, exhausting as it may be. She's doing it. And doing it VERY well. And she should be commended for having such outstanding control while taking on such an enormous task at such a young age.



I'm proud of her.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Meghan Thoughts....Interrupted

(Betsey with her cousins from Florida Callie and Macklin at Christmas)

Often times I plug away at my daily grind, aware of all my children and their whereabouts; be it at school, home with their daddy, or at friends' houses and I don't have a constant worry. There can be hours I go through my day and not think about blood sugars and how to better them and the daily duties of diabetes for Betsey.

I never, ever thought that day would come.

Ever.

And I selfishly like those hours of uninterrupted thoughts that tend to lend my mind to more "Meghan-specific" things like: When will I sit and sew again? Or, I can't wait to start school next month! Or, I wonder what I'll do on my Free-Friday this week?!

Meghan thoughts. Not Mommy thoughts. But thoughts for Meghan. Which hasn't happened in such a long time. 17 years really. And I like it. It's pleasant. And refreshing. And invigorating. Much like a shower after beaching it for 3-4 days straight sans showering - a secret love of mine.

I received a phone call today. The voicemail left for me was eerily similar to the voice I hear that I had almost 6 years ago now when I left a message for another type 1 mom after Betsey's diagnosis.

Panic. Fear. Disbelief. Sadness. Loneliness. Emptiness. Confusion. A sense of losing it. Any minute. On the cusp of falling apart.

A local mom called me because she had just left the hospital with her daughter, newly diagnosed type 1. Devastating.

It flooded back the feelings and emotions that I went through when Betsey was diagnosed and I actually logged on to re-read Betsey's diagnosis story. This mom was so fragile, just as I was. Her voice and her words were me, completely, as I tried to navigate my new world with diabetes in the forefront, knowing nothing. All the information the hospital tossed at me went in one ear and out the other because my main focus was survival. Survival for Betsey. Survival for me. Survival for my family.

I cried on the phone with her. I felt somewhat foolish and unguarded, but I couldn't refrain. Those few weeks trying to dissect diabetes and how to deal with it, were emotionally and physically exhausting, and talking to this Mom brought it all back. It's never far. My recent "Meghan Thoughts Moments" are great, and almost a vacation from my real life, but every once in a while it's reeled right back in and the emotion never gets less raw.

Diabetes Sucks!

It's always good when you can give it back. I feel fortunate that someone can reach out to me, as a mom with a child with diabetes, to commiserate with. To ask questions to. To reach out to. It's all I was looking for when Betsey was diagnosed. It's vital to your mental health. Your soul.

Just as I've realized my recent "Meghan Thoughts Moments" are. Good for my mental health. Good for my soul.

So with this, Christine - I want you to know, it'll be OK. And your daughter will be fine. And you will live again. And she will too. And oddly enough, you'll probably cry more than her. And that's a good thing. And I'm here for you.
xoxo