The one where I say it

'What the hell did you have to eat that you are 354???'

'Two brownie little cupcakes in class. It was M's birthday. I dosed 10g each, Mom!'

'Honey, they are at least, at the very least, 20-25g each.'

'I'm sorry, Mom, it's all my fault.'

And she cries. And I am heartbroken. The very things that came out of my mouth just then were things I never say, and I said them. So, there goes the 'never say those things' statement, right out the window. I was tired, up all night with a 12 AM high, I worked all day, it's 4:30 PM and nary a dinner idea in sight. Homeworks to do, showers. It's been a loooong day. And this is the way I'm bringing it to a close.

'OK, I will get you down. And you are due for a Pod change, so we have to change that too.'

And through tears, we change a Pod, deal with a high and figure out what she can eat, cause she is hungry and 354 and climbing. She will hit a 394 before we start to see the downward descent.

And I said the very things that I admonish myself for even thinking. I say them. To her. And they hurt her. She didn't ask for diabetes. She just wanted to eat a flipping brownie cupcake with her class.

I should have told her I was proud of her for remembering to dose. I should have said that I understand, or try to, that it's hard to be a part of the party, yet run for your diabetes kit. I should have asked if she feels shitty with a BG of 354.

I say all those things as we lay in bed later. And I say I am sorry, sorry, sorry, for being angry with the 354 BG.

And my ever-loving girl forgives me. And she holds my hand. And she is the one who understands. And looks into my eyes and says it will all be OK.

Dexcom G4 Spot-On

Ever since Grace got her Dexcom G4, honestly, it has been spot on for her blood sugar readings. Oh sure, there are moments here and there - a 185 BG finger stick compared with a 150-ish Dexcom reading, but nothing earth-shattering in terms of being off. It really does stay pretty darn close to her actual BG via finger stick.

And the adhesive, for Grace, is really sticking. I use SkinTac just around the area where the adhesive will lie, but not over the spot where the insertion will happen. That thing sticks. Some edges come up here and there, and I just trim them off as they happen.

This current Dex is on Day #14 and still going strong.

Happy 4th Diaversary, Grace!

Year Four

Can you believe it? Four years with diabetes. I know, not a huge amount of time, but in our lives, and in Grace's life, it IS huge. I feel like I almost don't remember a time before we did all this diabetes stuff. Surely I do, I remember the baby years, the toddler years, the preshool years. And I do remember it. It just seems so far away I suppose.

But I'm not sure Grace remembers what her life was like before the D. That's some serious stuff, therapy-worthy, if you ask me. Yep, that's what four years does to someone when they are diagnosed at age 6. Just two more years and she will have had it for half her life.

We are in a different place with D these days. My girl is an independent soul. Oh, you noticed, didn't you? And the independence runs right through the D too.

'Mom, I'm taking my D kit, going to S's house. Be back later.'

'Mom, can I go for a walk around the block? Can I roller skate? Ride my scooter? I have some tabs in my pocket.'

'Mom, I got an invite for a sleepover for next week! Can I go?'

And she does it all. Often times without me. And that is a great thing. Just what I have aimed for all along -  a girl who is confident, capable, able, makes decisions on her own, comes back to check in and consult, and rolls along with it all. Damn if I didn't actually get there in the pre-teen years with this girl.

It's hard to see some of the end game when you are in the midst of 6 and 7 and 8 year old care. But before you know it, it's upon you. They grow up. They start to do what has been done for them all this time. She temp basals, makes educated guesses, rolls her eyes at high carb meals served elsewhere, shouts out carb counts across tables, SWAGs like nobody's business. Just like I did all this time.

And there are times, just like in anyone's life, that she just wants to give it all up. She just wants to be the same as everyone else. And I stand there and ask her if she would like to hand it over to me for a few hours, a day, a morning or a night. Sometimes she stands her ground - 'No Mom, I got it, it's OK' and sometimes she readily hands me the whole thing 'Yes, please, just for a few hours.' And it's mine then, even though it really ever isn't. But I drive the D while she takes a break. And then she takes the reigns again, having slept, or not thought about BGs for a while.

Year Four rolls on. It will roll into 5, 6, 7...10...15...30... 50, God willing.

Year Four is about being herself with D. Her glorious, shining self.