Monday, May 21, 2018

Find a ride.




I have a magic carpet.

It isn’t something I keep in my closet, or store in the garage.

In fact, I don’t even own it.

But it shows up sometimes. And when it does, it is mine.

I sit upon its comfortable piles and breathe in the sun that always seems to come along with it.

It whooshes me away from myself, and takes me to a safer place, one that relaxes my senses, and soothes the aches.

It takes me away from worry, stress, and discomfort.

It takes me to smiles, laughter, and peace.

I wish I could have it in my hands at all times. Or perhaps have access to it a couple hours each and every day...

I suppose it may be possible, because I know:

It comes when I’m ready.

It comes when I try.

When I’m wrapped up in self-pity and exasperation my carpet is nowhere to be found, but when I look outside my person…and help others in need…

It appears.

It is mine.

And I ride it as long as it will allow.

I’ll often walk through life looking down at my feet, concentrating on my journey, and my story. I’ll analyze every pebble in front of me, and take offense when I bump into things, because shouldn’t others be looking out for me?

On the days I look up from my feet and really see the people around me…when I see their circumstance, and their hearts, and when I long to ease their trials…those are the days that my carpet appears.

Those are the days I’m allowed happiness.

Life isn’t about me; it’s about those I lift up.

Those in the trenches need us.

I used to be in the trenches. It’s a cold, scary, dark place. But when I needed it most, I was wrapped up in love and care and helped up.

I was carried by others who had been in the trenches before too. People who sacrificed their energy and time to take care of me, and lighten my load.

Paying it forward is the greatest gift. It is my magic carpet ride, and I’m addicted to the fresh air it provides.

If you’re having a hard time, look up. Ask for help, or look further down and help another who is deeper in the trenches than you.

And when you reach out your hand?


I promise, it will be the ride of your life.


~MERI

Thursday, May 10, 2018

An Homage to the Mothers


We are called D Moms.  D Mamas.   Even Type 3's.

Sometimes we get a bad rap.

~We're too "intense."

~We worry too much.

~We are overbearing.

~We over think.

~We over react.

~We over manage.

And I only have one thing to say about all of that...

You are probably right.

I want to tell you that if you are a parent, you can understand.

But that is not true.

I want to tell you that if you have diabetes yourself, you can understand.

But that is not true either...just as I will never fully understand your diabetic life,
you will never fully understand mine.

The only way you would understand what goes on in the swelly brain of a D Mama,
is if you were a D Mama yourself.

We are special.  Chosen for our story, as you were chosen for yours.

We are fighters, and we will fight until our last breath to keep our children safe.

New technologies like fast acting insulin and insulin pumps provide keys for better management, but they also provide a clear and present danger at all times.

We have to be vigilant.

We look into the eyes of our children and we love them with a bright tenderness.  We want more than anything for them to live a life free from restrictions, free from prejudice, free from complications, free from emergency rooms and hospitals.

We feel a responsibility well beyond any bounds of normalcy.  We do not want to live a life of regrets.  One day we will need to look into the eyes of our adult Type 1 Children and we want more than anything to say...
"I did my best."

The mothers of Type 1's spend every day racked with guilt.   Every blood sugar number pierces our heart.  We feel responsible for every high and every low.

An argument can be made that diabetes is responsible for every one of those numbers, but in our eyes...whether a reasonable notion or not, we feel they are a reflection of our efforts.

We may not always admit it to you, or to ourselves...but we take those numbers personally.

The A1C isn't called the mommy report card for nothing.

We do not sleep.  That is a choice.  We choose to keep a close eye on the numbers while the world takes a break.  We don't take breaks.  We know that waking up with a off number can domino to the rest of the day. 

We know honeymooning pancreases can sputter.

We know the soccer game from 5 hours earlier can affect the nighttime numbers.
(Yet we urge them to play.)

We know that Pizza can wreak havoc hours after consumption, and we know that Chinese food for dinner means a sleepless night for us.
(Yet we delight in serving them their favorites anyway.)

We know that diabetes never sleeps.  That is why we don't either.

We know that a 200 can turn into a 52 in 30 minutes flat.

We know that on field trip days our children may spike with excitement, or bottom out from activity.

We know nothing is for sure.

So we check, and constantly ask our children how they are feeling...and we hover...watching every move...looking for changes in our children's faces...changes in their gait...tiny beads of sweat on the back of their necks...we know the signs of lows.  We know our children better than anyone else.

We love hard.

We try hard.

We cry hard.

We hug hard.

We hope hard.

We stress hard.

We are hard on ourselves.

We are D mamas.   

Don't judge us because we fret over the details.  To us...Our Diabetic Life is all about the details.

We are 100% responsible for the well being of children we love more than anything on this blessed green earth.

No, we will not back off.

No, we will not calm down.

No, we will not stop making noise.

As mothers, we know that our children are special.  Diabetes makes them stronger.  It makes them resilient, responsible, amazing.  It gives them a sense of humor.  It makes them grow up too fast, and let's them spread their wings too slow.

We wish we could take away the pain. 

                                                                       We wish it were us.


                                                                         We are warriors.


                                                                         We are D Moms.


Hear.   Us.   Roar.



Happy Mothers Day, D Moms. I see you. 
Meri