Saturday, January 9, 2016

7 years

Lucky seven. Seven years in. I actually forgot about the date, until after I came back from a CVS run (test strips and Lantus this time) that Grace looked at me and said 'Today's my Diaversary!' Her friend Megan, also T1, had texted her and wished her a good one. Ah, the strength of friends to remember.

At any given point in any day, well, almost every day, I think of something I should write about in this blog, and then, well, time slips away and the writing doesn't happen. I think a lot about diabetes, as does any mom with a T1 kid. Diabetes sits like an old friend in this house now, not as that stranger who pops in and you wonder why they are just sitting on the couch still, looking around. Oh no, our diabetes is the 6th member here of this family. Right at home.

My husband and I laughed the other night at seeing a 45 on her meter at 6 am in the morning. I came downstairs after I checked her and said 'She's 45. I stopped insulin for an hour.' He laughed. 'Remember those days when we looked at each other and scrambled in the house. SHE'S 45! Like our hair was on fire. Now, it's like, yeah, she's 45, move on.' He asked 'Did you give her a juice?' 'I didn't' I replied, certain of what I know about my girl, that without insulin, even a drop, my girl shoots to the moon. Sure enough, at 6:30 am on recheck she was cruising at 92.

My hair is not on fire any more. I'm not panicking about lows and I'm not kicking myself about highs. We roll on, here. She will rise from the lows, and she will come down from the highs. It all works out. Does it seem nonchalant to others? It may. But I know making myself crazy with uber-control makes for one lousy mama to her and my other kids.

There are days that I don't hear from Grace all day about diabetes. I'm at work, and she is at school. I don't get texts about lunchtime BGs, or highs or lows. Grace texts the school nurse once a day before lunch to report in, mainly cause they want documentation, then she is on her way. She deducts carbs for lows, she adds in temp basals on her own, she adjusts her numbers. It's her diabetes, not mine. Took me a few years to get that.

Grace goes to sleepovers on her own, checking in with a BG to me at 10 pm. Then it's goodnight and I will see you in the morning. She calls if she needs help. She's off on day trips with her girlfriends on the weekend and I don't mention diabetes to the parents other than say 'Grace has diabetes. She manages on her own and is very independent. If she needs help, she'll text me or tell you she may need help.' They don't understand the workings of diabetes and I don't ask them to. Am I neglectful as a parent? I ask that question, then my head snaps hard and I realize that I have never really given a rat's behind what anyone thinks.

I know that she owns it now. I know that it is hers. I have taught her what I learned all these years, as I was learning it. She asked me last year how to adjust her basal rates, and we worked together so she understood some basics. 'I got it, Mom.' We negotiate putting on Dexcom - on for a week or two, then off. She chooses not to wear it all the time, for many sound reasons. I listen.

Isn't that the point of all this? That I teach my child how to handle and work with diabetes. That I teach her to be resilient, among all the things I do. That I teach her to get back on the horse that threw her, for the next ride. That I teach her she is so much more, so so so much more, than just Type 1.

Happy 7th Diaversary, my strong girl.

And yes, she chose the picture!
Read about our past Diaversaries here:
Year 6
Year 5
Year 4
Year 3
Year 2
Year 1