Matt asked me if we wanted to celebrate... no, not celebrate. Commemorate. Bring attention to. Get a cake or something.
I said, how about we light a candle and say a prayer?
One year ago Daniel was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes. One year ago, at this time, I sat beside him in the intensive care unit, willing him to heal. One year and half a day ago I had no idea what diabetes meant.
Daniel isn't paying much attention to this anniversary. But as a parent, I can't help it. I'll never forgot the rush to the hospital, the switch to another hospital, the frank diagnosis, the kindness of nurses. The snoring, buzzing sounds and hushed voices in the common sleeping area for parents with kids in the ICU. The 3 sleepless days and nights.
Days and nights that followed in a blur of shots and numbers, watching the clock, clocking the test results.
I told a friend today that when Daniel comes home from school I don't ask, "How was your day?" I ask, "What were your numbers?" That needs to change.
One year later, I no longer have nightmares night after night about giving the wrong dose of insulin, making mistakes with carb counts, causing Daniel to sicken. I no longer cry myself to sleep every evening with my hand clapped against my mouth so he won't hear me down the hall. We're in a routine. Daniel counts carbs & gives himself shots. He has taken on this disease, he's roped it in.
So one year later, I *do* celebrate. I celebrate the strength and courage of my child. I honor his ability to go with the flow. I am in awe of his constant, happy demeanor.
I light a candle and say a prayer.
Let there be a cure in our lifetime.