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As a parent, it's my job to take care of my daughter, to teach her right from wrong, help her with homework and generally get her ready for life on her own. When I talk to other parents, parents of children who don't have diabetes, I always get the same thing: That sympathetic little moue and a pitying "Oh, it must be so hard on you. I don't know how you can check her sugar/give her shots/change her infusion site. I could never do that."
Hard on ME? Hard on ME??! What about my daughter? How about taking a second to think about how this disease is going to impact her life? Yes, it's challenging raising a child with diabetes, but she's my CHILD. Of course I can check her sugar, give her shots and change her infusion sites and I do it willingly because, you idiot, if I didn't, she'd be DEAD.
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Olivia's been at camp for five days now. It's always so much quieter around here when she's gone, but it's amazing how much I miss having her around. Oh, sure, the babies are still here, laughing and playing and crying and generally being their cute little selves, but without "LaLa" here, the noise level has dropped dramatically.
The phone doesn't ring, the computer only gets used once in a while. The Disney Channel does not get turned on at all. (No Hannah Montana! Whoohoo!) It's nice, but it's weird. She's always here.
I keep waking by her room and thinking "Gosh, what is she DOING in there?" And then I remember, duh, she isn't here. She's at camp. Having fun. Being a teen-ager. Going to the dances with the Joslin boys. Playing Cities and having backwards day and all sorts of other goofy things they do at camp. And while I miss her intensely, I wouldn't change that for the world.
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When my husband and I decided to start a family, we knew my diabetes would be an issue. As a health writer, I spent months researching the topic before actually getting down to work. I read every book on the subject and followed every internet link. I figured I know just about everything there is to know to be prepared for the nine months ahead.
For the most part, I take great care of myself-too good if you ask some of my doctors-yet all of my research and obsessive control could never prepare me for the challenges of a diabetic pregnancy.
That's why I'm so grateful to have found a website devote entirely to women like me. On the forums at
Diabetic Mommy, women of all types of diabetes in all stages of motherhood from all over the world share wisdom, advice, laughter and tears with one another.
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With a few weeks to go still until the baby gets here, I feel like I'm really starting to get some parts of motherhood down. Particularly the worry part.
I worry when my blood sugar is high, I worry if it's low. I worry if he's not moving around much and if he's moving around too much, I worry that he'll be a hyperactive little boy and I won't be able to handle it.
In addition to the concerns surrounding the effect my diabetes could have on the baby, I encounter the regular mommy worries, too. I want him to be healthy and happy. And to grow up to make a difference in this crazy world.
But like many of my
diabetic mommy friends, one thing I worry about most is passing diabetes on to my child. Sure, there are a lot worse things that could happen to him out in the world, but living with diabetes day in and day out is something I'd rather not have for my son.
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I thought it was a miracle. The day after Danny was born, my diabetes suddenly disappeared. I no longer had to test a dozen times a day. And the few times I did test, my blood sugar was perfect. Not low, not high, but normal. In that magic 70 to 120 non-diabetic range. My meter looked like those in the commercials. It was wonderful, but it didn't last long.
For the first few weeks at home with the boy, I was able to ignore my diabetes. Granted I didn't eat with abandon or anything, but it sure was nice not to worry about it. Not to have it be the first thought in the morning or the last thought before bed. To go a whole day-a whole week even-without once testing my blood sugar, estimating a carb count or taking insulin. Diabetes was but a fleeting thought.
Granted I had plenty of other things to think about. Getting to know my son. Healing from a C-section. Figuring out how to breastfeed. Managing on little or no sleep. Nature had to give me a break somewhere.
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Seven weeks into this whole motherhood thing and I can honestly say I understand the true meaning of sleep deprivation. It's a brand of exhaustion I have never experienced before. Finals week in college does not begin to touch the level of tired I am. Moonlighting as a rock star while (barely) holding a 9 to 5 gig as an editor comes close, but still no cigar.
There is a reason sleep deprivation is used as torture, although I can't imagine how well it works if you're trying to get someone to talk. I'm so tired I barely know my own name right now. If I possessed any classified information crucial to the nation's security, that secret would be safe with me, because I really can't remember much of anything.
Things that were previously second nature now require a great deal of effort. And that primarily applies to my diabetes control.
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Ever since I was little, my mom has always told me that there was a reason behind my diabetes. I've always believed her and hoped that one day I would realize what the reason was. When my other health conditions developed, we had the same conversation. There was a reason behind my health problems.
Occasionally, ideas pop into my head. Sometimes I think I know, but mostly I feel that I have no clue what's behind all my health problems. It all seems so pointless. There is one consistent theme throughout the ideas in my mind though.
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Once I started tracking my postpartum blood sugar (and weight), I realized I needed extra help, so I called one member of my diabetes care team I knew I could count on to get results, my dietitian.
I love my dietitian. I say that without a hint of sarcasm. She is awesome and she really knows her stuff. I love her so much that I don't care if insurance won't cover more visits and I have to pay out of pocket. Like a good therapist, she's worth every penny.
Before the visit, I told her what I wanted: A healthy diet that was a little higher in fat and protein, and lower in carbs than the traditional exchange diet. My goal is to manage my blood sugar and lose weight, while consuming enough calories to maintain my milk supply for breastfeeding. It's a delicate balance. Too few calories will hinder milk production, too many calories will hinder weight loss.
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Dec. 5, 2005, was a frigid day in Missouri. I wrote in my journal that day that it did not get out of the teens all day. It was one of those days where the snot inside your nose freezes the second you walk outside.
The Mr. and I were driving to the hospital at 5 a.m. that day. A 45-minute drive to the closest bigger city where my OB, perinatologist and certified diabetes educator were located. Three years ago today I was being induced with No. 3 at 39 weeks and 4 days pregnant.
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We haven't made a deposit in our bank since June of 2005. We also haven't seen the need to make a withdrawal in that time. I often wonder how to even make a withdrawal if we needed to. I mean, could I take out just a little bit at a time or would I need to take one lump sum, closing my account? It would be really cool if they gave us an ATM card of sorts so that we could easily control when and how much we wanted to take out.
Then again, a withdrawal of cord blood from a machine could get a little messy.
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