Here Comes the Sun
Thursday, October 17, 2013
The contrast is sharp.
It was a beautiful fall day. One of those cloudless days where the blue sky was bright and the sun was reflecting on the leaves. The vibrant yellows and red popped off of the trees. The air was warm but had lost summer's death grip and instead blew gentle breezes scattering leaves and ruffling the hair of the children playing.
One of those days you just want to suck up all the beauty and save it for later.
I was on the playground at school. Watching my kinders happily play.
My phone buzzed.
A text from J.
"Pod alarm. Something happened during her lunch bolus. I'm going to school to do a pod change. FYI."
Great. We NEVER have pod alarms or failures. I can count on one hand the number we've had in over two years of podding.
"What happened?" I ask.
"Idk. Possibly static. She said her new corduroy leggings were kinda staticky."
This is why he works from home. For occasions just like this. Because I can't just leave. Even though I hate not being the one to go take care of it.
So there I stand. Watching my kids running around and going down the slide. They are happy and carefree.
I notice that none of them goes down the slide with one leg slightly raised like my daughter does so that the chance of a static issue with her pump is less. I notice that none of these kids have to test their blood before lunch or recess. None of them are missing recess because of a disease they didn't ask for and for which there is no cure. None of them have fingers covered in tiny bruises like my child does.
I remind myself that we are lucky. We are lucky we have incredibly technology that allows her to be as much like everyone else as possible. We are lucky to be able to go fix things and send her back to class. We are lucky that things like this rarely get her down. We are lucky her attitude remains positive and upbeat regardless of diabetes. We are lucky she's alive.
But it still stings. The contrast.
I take in all the sights and sounds of this beautiful day and vow to focus on THAT.
And I do. Although I also check in to make sure she's ok.
It's easy (easier) on this day to push away the pain and sadness and guilt and fear.
Today it's gloomy.
It's grey and cold. Raindrops are falling from heavy, dark clouds. Wind is blowing. The branches of the trees are starting to become bare. Today it's clear that winter is coming.
It's one of those days where you just want to stay in bed and curl up with a warm mug of apple cider.
It's one of those days where it's not so easy to push away all those feelings we wrestle with everyday.
And it's not because of the weather.
It's because of this...
A friend messaged me yesterday that ANOTHER child in our school district was diagnosed with T1. If you're counting - that makes 30.
I woke up this morning to news that on my D Mama bloggy friends now has TWO children with T1.
This disease is getting on my nerves.
I know that it's going to be ok. I know these families are going thrive.
But I also know that getting there - and staying there - won't be easy.
There will be days like today when the world looks grey.
When your kid tells you he feels different and is having trouble fitting in.
When you see the look on your child's face when her friends go play and has to wait and test.
When the bruises on their finger tips are more pronounced.
When there are tears after a site change.
When you have to take your little one to the ER because of a tummy bug and crashing bg.
Or because of ketones and DKA.
When you see the look that means she is so low that she's not really there.
When the attitude you are getting you KNOW is due to a whacked out bg number.
When you are afraid to go to sleep because of the number staring back at you from the meter.
When you are so exhausted just keeping your eyes open is major win.
The list is endless.
This journey - this LIFE - isn't for the faint of heart. You've gotta be tough to make it through.
Good thing for us, we are.
You are, too.
So - today I'm gonna let it rain.
I'm gonna suck up the gloom. I'm gonna let the tears fall. I'm gonna curse this disease.
And I'm gonna get that mug of warm apple cider!
Because I know the sun is still behind those clouds.
We can't see it --- but it's there.
Just waiting to come out and shine on us again.
I don't know how to make it better when you're in the gloom. I don't know how to make it easier.
All I know to do is wait for the sun. And make sure I don't miss it when it comes back.
at 12:24 PM