If You Can't Say Something Nice, I Might Punch You In the Throat

In three days, we'll have hit the two month mark in our T1 Diabetes journey.  Some things are easier and some things are harder.  As many of you know, Ryan travels a LOT for work.  But this weekend was the first time he's been gone since Tessa's diagnosis.  Normally, I don't mind the traveling.  In fact, there are many things that go much more smoothly when he's gone (no offense hun).  Unfortunately, managing Tessa's Diabetes at night is not one of them.  Ryan is a freaking CHAMP when it comes to night time diabetic care.  Me?  Not so much.  I don't handle those middle-of-the-night lows well.  Especially when I'm by myself.  There was one instance last night when I had my cell phone in one hand (911 already dialed), and my glucagon syringe in the other hand.  It's a good thing I never actually pressed send.  If the paramedics showed up at my house they most likely would have taken ME to the hospital, what with my crazy blood shot eyes and my hair that looked like I had just stuck my finger in an electrical socket.  This whole T1 Diabetes mess just seems more doable when Ryan is home.   I need someone there to reassure me that she's going to be okay.  Then I need someone to come back to bed with me to be sure I don't go into cardiac arrest.  What can I say, I'm a mom.  I might need to hire myself a husband to step in when he goes away from now on.  Any takers???   

The other thing that has been hard, surprisingly, is...people.  For the first few weeks we didn't really go anywhere.  We tested her blood sugar and injected her with insulin in the privacy of our own home.  But, you know, life had to go on.  I HAD to figure out how to do things.  Normal things.  Like go grocery shopping, go to the gym, and attend soccer games.  Suddenly I was faced with performing my diabetic duties with curious eyes looking over my shoulder.  Then came the first comment.

Now, I knew this would eventually happen.  I knew that at some point, somebody would be interested enough to say something or ask something or tell me a story about how their best friend's neighbor's cousin's mom lost her legs because of diabetes.  I hoped nobody would be brainless enough to say something like that, but alas, brainless-ness is more common than I thought.  I've heard more awful stories than I can even begin to count.  I've actually gotten used to hearing them.  Crazy how people don't seem to notice my other children's eyes growing wider and wider as they tell their morbid tales.  But what bothers me more, are the people who feel like they need to tell me what they think I did to cause my 2 year old to develop T1 Diabetes.  I know it's usually just a case of someone not knowing the difference between Type 1 Diabetes and Type 2 Diabetes.  But still, can we just not go there?  It's IMPOSSIBLE to cause someone (especially a 2 year old) to develop T1 Diabetes.  I've had people tell me that it's caused by not breast feeding long enough (um, 16 months was plenty long thankyouverymuch).  I've had people tell me that I must have given her dairy too soon (yeah, she STILL hasn't ever had cow's milk).  I've had people tell me that she probably ate too much sugar as a baby (I think she had her first piece of candy last Halloween - no kidding).  I know people mean well.  I get it.  I do.  What they don't understand is that I've gone through all of this in my head already.  Trust me.  I have already gone through every possible scenario that could reasonably place the blame on me.  Because that's what we do as parents.  We beat ourselves up over everything.  Even things that are out of our control.  I wish people would think that through before THEY blame me.  I've gotten good at smiling and nodding and saying, "that's an interesting theory."  But I'm afraid that one of these day's I'm going to lose my cool.  I'm not entirely sure what would happen if I did, but I apologize in advance if you are unlucky enough to witness it when I do.  Feel free to restrain me if necessary.  

All things considered, we're adjusting pretty well.  Tess actually handles it better than the rest of us do.  Kids are so resilient.  Sometimes I can't believe how unfazed she seems by the whole thing (I think unphased, but Webster's dictionary says unfazed).  I know she will have hard times and eventually she'll start to wonder why she has to have pokes and shots and other kids don't.  However, there's a weird kind of comfort that comes from knowing that she'll never remember what life was like before she developed T1 Diabetes.  I know it sounds sad.  Pathetic actually.  But it's the truth.