I am a pillar of calm, zenlike mom. I am not sappy, or dramatic, or weepy. I do not cry at movies, or weddings, or even funerals. I am the calm one. The one who doesn't fall apart and keeps a level head through every crisis.
Or, at least I was until this last week - when, HOLY CRAP, I cried! Twice! In one week!
Cry number one was a shocker. I've been talking about diabetes and often relaying Sarah's diagnosis story for over a year now. But put me in front of a whole group of executives from various organizations, and I go to pieces. I was relaying how she'd been sick. She'd gotten thinner. She'd felt like passing out. I told about how we took her to her pediatrician, who'd pronounced that she had a virus of some sort and could go back to school after a few blood tests.
But when I tried to explain my feeling as I answered my cell phone later that evening to find a very concerned pediatrician on the other end... When I told how she'd asked me how close we were to the nearest emergency room... I lost it, and fortunately Sarah was there to pick up the slack. - Afterwards I decided that my loss of composure was probably a good thing. Hopefully some of those folks felt, just for a moment, the terror of hearing your child has a serious illness, because we need their support to continue to fund diabetes research.
Cry number two was on the Fourth of July. Sarah decided she wanted to spend the night at her grandma's house, so she could continue to spend time with her amazing older cousin, Ashley. I let her go, with the condition that she not ingest any carbohydrates after dinner, as I didn't want her to have any meal insulin left in her system at bedtime, because I wouldn't be there to check her until the insulin passed through. They went to watch fireworks at her uncle's house. At some point in the evening, cupcakes were distributed. It was after 10pm, and Sarah had had a long day. She wanted a cupcake, and I had to say no. Her next texts to me broke my heart;
I wish I didn't have diabetes.
Why did it come for me?
It is so unfair!
She ended up coming home that night, mostly because she really needed some mama hugs.
But you know what? She's right! It's not fair. It's not fair that she has to watch every single thing she eats at 11 years old. It's not fair that she has to poke herself 6-10 times every day. It's completely not fair that I have to stick big needles in her 2-3 times a week to change her insulin pump site and CGM site. And on that note, it's not fair that she has more equipment on her belt than spiderman!
See, there I go again...