You Are.

She went and did it again.


You know...


Sprout.
Blossom.
Mature.
Heighten.


She grew.


I crept in for a post-correction finger poke the other night.  She stirred a little before opening one eye..."What am I, Mom?"


I looked at her meter, and then kissed her nose, half nuzzled under the blanket.  I stroked my fingers through her hair, and answered with "You're my amazing, beautiful, wonderful, incredible, one-of-a-kind angel ."


It didn't matter that her eyes were closed or that the room was dark.  I could feel the eyeroll.  "I know all THAT, Mom.  What.    is.    my.    blood.    sugar?"


I wanted to reply that she's a million marvelous things wrapped up into one very special package.  I wanted to tell her that every milestone I've witnessed has been fascinating to me.  I wanted to whisper in her ear how awestruck I am by her ability to face each new day with a smile.  And then I wanted to scoop her into my arms, and tell her that being her mother is, by far, one of the greatest blessings my life has ever seen.


"You're sugar is 85.  You still have a little IOB left from that correction a couple hours ago, so I'm going to get a juice and set a short temp basal decrease."


(Sidenote:  I think it's crazy that my little girl understands this language.  Diabetonese T1.)


From my phone, I posted our little exchange on Facebook (I mean, hello, isn't EVERYONE awake to update FB at 2 am?).  Then I programmed the alarm for another check a couple hours later, and headed back to bed. 


And that's where this story ends -- or maybe where it begins?  You see, that middle of the night FB post has ultimately become one of my "most liked" status updates ever.  


It dawned on me that there are people with diabetes (PWD) everywhere who are tossed between insurance companies and busy doctor's offices.  To medical supply companies and pharmaceutical companies and technology companies, they're just a number.  Their personal worth is often summed up by the black and white lab results on paper.  They wander from one day to the next, facing stereotypes and dodging stares when caring for themselves.


And so, to each of you -- young and old -- who poke your fingers, deal with insulin, and press onward in spite of all of it...I just wanted to tell you something:

Somewhere in your life, there is someone whose days are brighter because you're a part of them.


Somewhere someone's heart would be incomplete without you.


Somewhere someone understands what a balancing act this life is, and thinks you're a wonderful, incredible, one-of-a-kind angel -- regardless of what your A1c may be.


Somewhere you are someone's dream come true.


It could be a parent, a child, a friend, a sibling, or a spouse.  


It could be all of them.


In case you need a reminder, you should know...


YOU are strong.
YOU are distinct.
YOU are cherished.


YOU are so much more than the number on your meter.

Motivational Clutter

I'm looking around my house and thinking of all the things that need my attention.

Baseboards, blinds, ceiling fans, hidden clutter.  I do okay keeping up with the day to day stuff, but all these "now and then tasks" are mounting.

Man.  How am I ever going to get to all of this?

I mean, I can probably figure out some sort of a time management plan to deal with it...quite honestly, it's the motivation that's killing me.

Admittedly, finding the motivation to deal with tasks that will inevitably pile on top of me again is hard.  Sure, I'll clean out the junk drawer.  And the closet.  And dust the fans.

But it's not like it'll change anything.

The junk will re-accumulate.

The supplies will still dominate our only hall closet.

The dust won't go away.

And, soon enough, I'll be blogging about a to do list that I can't find the motivation to deal with.

Full circle, ya know?

Sometimes, I feel that way about diabetes.  When I notice a pattern creeping in...like lows before lunch or highs 2 hours after bedtime -- OR BOTH (as is our situation right now), I cringe.

Because it means I have to figure something out.  I have to stop and think.  I have to troubleshoot a million variables, half of which I'm probably not even aware of.

I don't wanna.

I don't wanna think about all that right now.

Having my brain in a constant state of alert, combined with perpetual exhaustion, and anxious feelings about making decisions regarding her insulin needs seem to suck all the motivation for the rest of life right out of me.

But I know it's not an option.

I see my hardworking husband...I see her smiling face as she twirls through the kitchen, pretending to be a ballerina...I see her little sisters looking at her with adoration and vice versa...I see three little girls who are growing up right before my eyes, and I am grateful for the gift of being his wife and their mother.

And, ya know what?

All the other stuff will just have to wait a little longer.

Because if I only have this much energy leftover, I am sure as heck not wasting it on THAT!