For the past few months M, my oldest, has been checking his brothers sugars at 12:30am. The idea came one night when I was so exhausted I knew I would sleep through my alarm. M is up anyway, he’s 18 and busy playing on his computer until that time anyway…so a plan was hatched and many restful nights on my behalf were born.
If there was a problem, or something unexpected, M would wake me. There were a couple times I was so out of it, he couldn’t get the information he needed and he would wing it. Thankfully though, most of the time I was lucid enough to tell him what to do, or get up myself and solve the problem with a set change or basal adjustment.
A couple weeks ago M got the stomach flu. It lasted only a couple days, but one evening at around 9:00pm he asked if I could take over the checks for the night. He was exhausted and just needed a good night sleep.
Pffft. OF COURSE. I would be more than happy to take over the check. I mean, I’ve done it for years and years and years, it was the least I could do. “Go to bed, M. I’ve got this!”
That night was a bad one. One riddled with unexplainable numbers and two set changes no less. As I checked the first boy’s number and saw the number flash on the screen, I muttered to myself, “What is this crap!”
And the emotions of years of “What is this crap!” rushed into me like looking up the bottom end of a waterfall with my jaw unhinged taking in buckets full of water by the second.
So many sleepless nights in the past. So much worry.
How thankful was I in that moment for a few months of separation from all of it? How thankful was I to have a son so willing to do his part?
Quite thankful. Quite, quite thankful.
My mind flashed to the hundreds of numbers written on the white board by my bedroom. Every night M meticulously writes every number, IOB and what he did to correct the problem.
I was overwhelmed at this gift he's given me. And since then, I’ve been sleeping even harder, fully understanding I need to take advantage of this respite while I can.
Because you see, next week M is leaving.
For two years.
He won’t be back for two years. And when he does come back, he’ll be leaving a few weeks later for college.
M will be leaving next week to serve a 2 year mission near Mexico City, Mexico for our church.
As you can imagine, I’m in denial. I can’t let the emotions take over just yet. If there is anything the past year has taught me, it’s to hold myself together.
I can feel the waves lash against my back as I walk through my day. And I’m pretty good at ignoring them. I pretend they are smaller than they are. I pretend like I have time.
But the time has come down to ten more days. Where have the past 18 years gone?
Right now there is only one way to cope: I must continue to trust the Lord. He hasn’t steered me wrong yet.
It’s the only way to keep standing.
Nighttime checks are the least of what I’ll miss about my M. He has been such a calming force in our family; our family dynamic will absolutely change when he leaves.
Anyway. I thought you should know. M is leaving, and the bags under my eyes will be back in full force.
It’s part of life for every mother to let her child fly.
I just can’t imagine how I’ll find the strength to let him go in that last moment.
I suppose that’s where that whole “trust” thing comes in.