12 Years Ago...

Dear Diabetes,

I was nineteen when we discovered you. I thought I needed glasses because I woke up one day and could no longer see the whiteboard during class. That symptom was obvious, the others were easier to ignore. It didn’t occur to me that the thirst I had wasn’t normal. Gallons of water. A thirst I could never quench.

You tricked me. I had convinced myself I was gaining weight. I was eating EVERYTHING in sight, topping it off with dessert, and still I didn’t feel full. I was starving. Then you wouldn’t let me exercise anymore. I could hardly make it up the four flights of stairs without stopping to catch my breath. I had to give up running because I just didn’t have the energy. Even if I had a full-length mirror I don’t know that I would have seen myself turning into a skeleton. I had dropped 25 pounds with no exercise and eating more food than I ever had before in my life. That just couldn’t be possible.

But then Luke figured you out. After our long drive home from Santa Cruz he looked up all my symptoms in a medical book. The phone rang at 2 am, “Laura, go wake up your parents, I think you have diabetes.” My mom laid in bed with me until I fell asleep that night. I think she was scared to leave me. My sisters cried the next morning when they saw me. You had changed me. I looked sick, really sick.

I don’t remember any tears during the doctors’ appointments. There was the orange the nurse used to show me how to give an injection. I think I poked the orange once and then I had to do it to myself. It wasn’t a choice. You were here to stay. And overnight my life had changed.

At first you intrigued me. This new life full of injections and blood sugars. New gadgets, new rules, numbers, insulin, glucose tabs. Explaining it to everyone. I remember bits and pieces of the rest of that Thanksgiving weekend. Never would eating and celebrating be the same for me.

When I drove away from my parents’ house, back up north to college, I had a knot in my stomach. I hoped I could do it, but I wasn’t sure that I could. You came with a lot of rules. A lot of things to remember, and what if I forgot them? “Never be without your supplies. Be ready for a low blood sugar. Watch what you eat. Don’t forget to test, test, test. Be sure to tell the other students living with you. Don’t be a closet diabetic. You want people to know how to help you if they need to.” The fear started to set in. I felt alone. So scared and so alone. I wasn’t sure how I would do it on my own.

But I did. I had moments of panic. Crying in the shower, or alone in bed as I tried to fall asleep. Sobbing on the phone with my mom, unable to speak because of the choking sobs. The carefree life I had known as a nineteen year-old college student was gone. The fear of going blind, amputations, low blood sugars, kidney failure, and maybe even death was part of what you brought into my life. And I SO badly wanted to have a family one day. I couldn’t bare the thought of you taking that from me.

And so I worked hard at taking care of you. And it paid off. More than you could ever know, it’s paid off.

But you’ve made me work for it, and it never gets easy. Twelve years later, and you still surprise me, frustrate me, scare me, and so often overwhelm me. I wish you would decide to leave or just disappear for a day. I’d settle for just one day.

~Laura

November, D-blog Day, and some Halloween

November. It’s Diabetes Awareness Month, today is D-blog day, November 14th is World Diabetes Day, and this month also happens to be my diaversery (anniversary of my diagnosis).

The month started off bad... hours and hours of back and forth with insurance and the mail-in pharmacy about getting my insulin to me. (After crying to one person, I actually had to threaten that without insulin I would die, so they needed to figure something out.) SO frustrating! Anyway, insulin finally arrived before I ran out of it, fortunately.

It’s during those moments I hate this disease. Crying on the phone, hoping my kids don’t run into the room and see me in tears. Trying to keep it together while inside I feel so helpless, frustrated, scared, and just angry. This isn’t how I want to spend my day or my life, so I try not to let myself stay there for long. But from time to time it is how I feel.

My week with diabetes got better. Sunday Luke, the kids, and I went to the San Diego JDRF walk. We walked with the UCSD Diabetes and Pregnancy Program group which consisted of two other moms with diabetes and my amazing nurse who helped me through all three of my pregnancies. It is just a postitive, hopeful, and uplifting event. And pushing all three of my babies felt like sweet success.

And just for fun a few Halloween photos...

(Sorry about the randomness of these photos. It's late and I can't figure out how to get them lined up.)

Baby Fingers

I sometimes wonder how my diabetes affects my kids. They will only know a mom who has type 1 diabetes. They recognize the beeps and buzzing from my pump. It is often that all four of us are crowded into the bathroom during an insulin pump change. (It is hard to ask a 5, 3, and 1 year old to give me some privacy. Either they’re in there too, or pounding on the door to be let in.) They don’t even blink at the sight of a needle. “Does it hurt?” They often ask as I poke a new infusion site into my body. “Just for a minute,” I answer them truthfully.

They are wrapped up in this disease. They know it more intimately than anyone else because they are with me, watching me take care of not only their needs 24-7, but the needs of this disease.

The truth is, I probably take more blood sugar tests with a child on my hip than with out. At 11 months I watched in awe as Jake’s little bubbly finger went onto the end of my lancet device. He knew exactly how it worked before he was even a year old.

Bad Diabetic

I’ve been a “bad” diabetic lately. I know I’m not supposed to judge myself and all that, but honestly the other labels seem worse. Bad mom, irresponsible, or just plain stupid.

The other day the kids and I were getting ready to head to the library. I was planning on having a little snack before we left so I took some insulin for the snack. The problem was I got distracted before I could even make it over to the cabinet to get any food. I can’t remember if the kids started arguing or if Jake was crying and needed me, but something happened that distracted me for just long enough. I just continued to get the kids ready. Socks and shoes on, books all gathered and ready to return, I felt kind of organized! Then we loaded up and were on our way. As we were walking into the library I remembered. I had taken insulin, but completely forgot to eat.

My mom, sister, and nieces were all with us. I could feel the low creeping up on me, but told myself I’d just get into the library, let the kids get settled, and grab something from my purse. Bad diabetic moment #2: nothing to eat in my purse. Somehow I had forgotten to replenish my glucose tabs and lifesavers. I hate it when I do that! I just feel stupid. I wasn’t ready to gather everyone up and leave the library because I might get low. The kids were having such a nice time, and I hate letting diabetes and my stupidity ruin a good moment. Maybe the low blood sugar makes me extra irritated at myself and allows me to continue to make poor decisions. Who knows why, but I continued to sit there while the kids played knowing I had taken insulin, not eaten, and was going low.

We finally started to gather up the kids to head out. I was starting to feel sweaty now, and realized it was going to take us a while to get the books gathered up, checked out, and all of us out the door. Too long. Fortunately my mom was there. “Mom, can you see if there’s a vending machine or something?”

“You low?”

“Yup.”

The librarian informed her that they don’t have a vending machine, so she left in search of something. My sister and I checked out the books with the kids, and as we walked out the door my mom appeared with some orange juice.

I quickly felt better, but stupid. These are the moments I hate this disease. When not only does it come close to ruining a perfectly nice outing, but then I have to feel bad about my decisions. My life feels too busy with raising kids, keeping up with all the housework, trying to maintain friendships, help with school, family etc... to squeeze in the diabetes on top of it all. Ugh.

Sorry about the rant, I’m just over it.

Happy 1st Birthday Jake!

Baby Jake is now 1. It’s hard to believe a year has already gone by. Somehow time seems to go by faster with each baby.

The decision to have a third baby was a difficult one. Luke and I wanted three children, but with the diabetes and two c-sections there were risks. I did my research, I asked all of my doctors’ opinions, and after many conversations between me and Luke we decided that adding a third (and final) baby to our family would be worth it.

With diabetes you don’t get to have a “surprise” pregnancy. (Well, it isn’t advised anyway.) There are months of preparations, changes in diabetes management and lifestyle before a woman with diabetes should even start trying to get pregnant. The reason is before most women realize they are pregnant all of the baby’s major organs have already been formed. So, for women with diabetes that means being in “perfect” or almost perfect control even before you know you’re pregnant.

But I had two healthy babies. Why should I push my luck? Could I really manage a three and one year old while also taking such diligent care of my diabetes? What if something happened to me or my baby? Could I live with the consequences? Those were all the questions spinning through my over-analytical brain. But ultimately, the answer was yes. I was willing “risk” it. And I’m so happy I did.

What a sweet baby Jake is. So content. He adores his big brother and sister. Playing with them whenever he gets the chance. He’s just about ready to walk, and I think it won’t be long before he’s running in order to keep up with Aliya and Evan. He’s just a happy, happy boy, and I’m so glad he’s ours! I can't imagine our family with out him.

Baby Jake right after he was born!

The Birthday Boy trying his first bite of cake!

Bump Thump

I ran over my blood glucose meter the other day. We were on the way to the park and I was backing out of my driveway when I felt a little bump and heard a little thump... (Can you tell we’ve been reading lots of Dr. Seuss books around here?)

When I looked out of my window and saw my little black meter case laying in the driveway I couldn’t help but laugh. Seriously, if I could have just driven away and left it there, I would have. It’s how I’ve been feeling lately about my diabetes. Just run it over, leave it all smashed up, and then just drive away into the sunset (okay, or just down to the park).

I guess it was a wake-up call for me. Somethings got to change. I wasn’t happy with my last hemoglobin A1C results. It was higher than it’s been in years, and I had trained for and run a half marathon. It shouldn’t have been so high. But during my training I’ve been riding the diabetes roller coaster of highs and lows, feeling out of control, frustrated, and like screaming sometimes. I want off. I never did like roller coasters.

It’s time to get serious about taking care of myself again, but it feels overwhelming. I can hardly make it to the pharmacy to pick up test strips, much less plan, weigh, and count carbs for each meal. But I’m trying. The cgm is back on, and buzzing away at me to alert me of highs and lows. I can’t say I like it (often times it feels like I’m trouble-shooting with it more than getting accurate blood sugars), and having one more thing demanding my attention sometimes makes me crazy. But, hey, I’m trying.

I want to believe that I can manage this disease without needing the motivation of pregnancy. But damn, wanting a healthy baby sure was a good motivator to stay on top of things. Putting in all that work felt so much more doable when I was planning a pregnancy or actually pregnant. But now what? How do I keep that motivation when my last baby is about to turn 1? And when all I want to do is run over my meter and laugh about it?

Ready, or not!

Busy, busy busy...

Things have just been busy. Camping, a sick dog, a sick baby, running, and more running...

My half marathon is this Saturday (gulp!). 13.1 miles.

“I can do it,” is what I keep telling myself.

“Half of the race is mental.”

“If I can carry and deliver three babies then I can complete this race.”

These are the thoughts that run through my head as I start to get nervous or doubt my decision to sign up for the race in first place.

But I did do that marathon once upon a time... I won’t say I loved it or even liked it, but I can say I did it. So hopefully my body will let me finish a half.

Hopefully all my new gadgets don’t decide to fail me. A few times my sensor has fallen off mid-run. Nothing like ripping that sucker off or holding it on for the last mile or so of a run. Kills any momentum I had going.

Six years ago, when I ran my marathon, my pump site started to come off (it must be the salty sweat that causes the tape to fail). I was ready to wrap duct tape around my belly in order to hold that thing on so that my pump could continue to deliver insulin for the last 10 miles or so that I still had to run. Fortunately, police officers don’t carry duct tape on them (yes, we stopped and asked a cop along the race course). Eventually we came to a first aid station, and had the bright idea to use medical tape to wrap me up instead of duct tape. Phew, because I can’t imagine what kind of pain it would have been to try and remove duct tape from around my waist. I think ripping a band-aid off can hurt!

But running these distances is kinda like life, and I just can’t plan for everything. (As hard as I may try.) And sometimes I just have to get creative when problems present themselves. Sometimes those are the best moments, right? At least the best memories anyway. Like asking that cop for duck tape to wrap myself up in. Seriously, what was I thinking?

So, on Saturday (ready or not) I’ll hit the pavement and finish 13.1 miles.

“I’ll be fine.”

“I’ve been training.”

“I can do this.”