I feel like I've muttered these words to myself a million times in the past five years. Or almost seven.
But who's counting?
When we moved from the DC area to Arizona, I had a baby strapped to my chest in a sling and kept my 2 year old's blood sugars stable while flying across country with no access to "real" food for 8 hours. Just whatever easily accessible stuff I could stuff in a bag -- that had already been stuffed full with every diabetes supply to our name. Fruit snack, anyone?
At one point, I was tandem nursing a newborn and a toddler while checking my 3 year old's blood sugar and treating a low simultaneously.
There was a time that I took my 4 year old diabetic child to preschool, and then sat in the office with my double stroller, staring at a wall for hours, fearing that if I left something horrible would happen to her.
For three or four years, I spent every. single. night. of. my. life. sleeping wherever I fell -- crumpled in a toddler bed, knocked out in the rocking chair, on someone's floor -- because, inevitably, there was always something. Diabetes. A nightmare. A fever. Whatever. Something or someone would find me, and it was just easier to settle it/them if I could catch it/them before they were awake enough to wander across the house, to my bedroom.
"Just push through it."
That's what I would tell myself.
Like a pep talk -- Head down. Push through. Onward!
I wondered if there would ever be a day when my daughter would be able to check her own blood sugar. I wondered if I'd ever be able to wear something without thinking about how conducive it would be to nursing a baby. I wondered if I would spend the rest of my life lugging around practically everything we owned in order to be prepared for Plans A, B, and C. I wondered if I'd ever sleep for more than 90 minutes at a time.
And yet...here I am.
Three daughters who are potty trained and riding bikes without training wheels. Sugar can handle her diabetes independently for short periods of time. Tiara randomly started helping to put the dishes away this afternoon. Tink is making her own little friendships, and doesn't need to be attached to me every other minute.
|Everyone look at the camera and SMILE!!!|
Something is shifting. It's very bittersweet, because I have loved these years of holding my babies, but must admit that I'm excited about what sits on the horizon.
There was a time I blogged just about every day. I had to get it out. I had to scream somewhere from the top of my lungs, and blogging met that need -- without waking the littles from their naps.
I'm not sure what the next chapter holds, but I'm thankful to have found so many amazing people along the way.
Keep pressing on, my friends.