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.