Much To Be Grateful For

My little man turned one yesterday and oh, did we celebrate! A cookout at the park complete with wonderful people, hotdogs, volleyball and perfect weather combined to create something memorable. A gal I go to church with made cupcakes decorated like basketballs, baseballs, and footballs. I saved a chocolate football cake for the little guy thinking he would enjoy shoving the sugary compound in his face--with both hands at the same time (much like his father). But was taken back when he stared at it as if to question my judgment. I helped him out by letting him lick some frosting off my fingers but I still wasn't able to convince him. So there I sat, baby on my lap as he picked up tiny pieces of cake, squished it between his fingers, and then dropped it on the table before him. FYI I had no problem feeding him carrot puree about an hour before. The little man knows what he wants (or doesn't want)and I respect that. He was happy and social with our friends and family throughout the evening. Babbling and laughing and allowing to be passed around the group. He liked the attention and I'm sure he will miss it when we move out of state. Everyone seemed to have an enjoyable time, especially the kids as they wacked the pinata to pieces. My little guy watched from a distance confused, but entertained. My husband and I feel blessed to have close connections to our family, neighbors and friends--many of whom came because they love us and love my baby. This time of year comes with a spectrum of emotions. Sweetness and gratitude because of the birth of my little guy, loss and sorrow because my grandpa passed away 1 day later (1 year ago today). I miss grandpa and wish he were here to talk about how much diabetes sucks with me. He was type 2 and the only other person with diabetes in my family, the one who could truly relate. I visited his grave with my grandma today, who placed a dozen roses by his headstone and called him an "old fart" at least 3 times--appropriately so and very much like how relationship was. I sat on the ground and observed while my babe crawled around on the grass and my grandma expressed how grateful she was that the baby was born at a time when she needed to feel some fulfillment during extreme loss. I feel the same way about my baby; a feeling of loss of my old way of life (working pancreas and all) but filled with love for my happy boy with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. He makes me smile more than my pancreas ever did. SIDE NOTE: Husband and I played tennis tonight. I preped by reducing my basal insulin by 50% and snacking 10-15 min before we started (about 1/4 cup chocolate milk, a few grapes, and some almonds; an excellent balance of carb and protein I think)! It was windy which made our volleys unpredictable but humorous and even though my husband says he's rusty, he still beat me by 4 games. Not bothered by that number though because my glucose numbers stayed between 130-150. SUCCESS!

Some Of The Odd Things

I was feeding the little man cub one of those baby food fruit combos(something like banana-strawberry--you know the kind--looks disgusting but doesn't smell all that bad) was tempted by curiosity and decided to try it myself. I KNOW I'm not the only mom who has done this and at least I'm not making an excuse by saying "I want to know what I'm feeding my child!" So anyway, I licked the spoon and was satisfied. It WAS delicious and I fully understood why he prefers that over some sort of lukewarm pea mixture. But then I instantly thought, I wonder how many carbs I just consumed. I laughed. I think about carbs, fiber and protein every time I eat, which I won't label as good or bad, it just "is". It is how I view my food now, in terms of numbers and how it will affect my glucose later. My relationship with food is very precise and professional; I weigh, calculate, and bolus insulin accordingly. I celebrate when I get it right, but many times I'm wrong and need to correct the miscalculations. But even when I have the exact amount of carbs on a label before me, I still need to correct sometimes. Why?! Because diabetes is affected by many factors like stress, hormones, the weather, the day of the week, what I ate for breakfast, how much sleep I got, the phase of the moon, and how hard I crossed my fingers hoping for a number between 100-120. I find often when I test my blood sugar I see the result and either 1) ask "how in the world did that happen" or 2) say nothing and shrug my shoulders.

In a Nutshell

My new life began about a year ago, on March 28, 2013 when I was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes (T1D). I was about 6 months pregnant and had just gotten home from a weekend of hiking in Southern Utah. It was beautiful and warm. My husband and I were loving the red rock and laughing at how I seemed to pee several times on every trail--assuming it was because I was drinking liters of water. Little did we know that was my body's way of telling me my pancreas was checking out and my life would forever be changed. A few weeks later with a blood glucose of 620, I earned a fast pass to labor and delivery on an insulin drip, confronted by doctors with no explanation. The medical team was phenomenal during that admission. They had no idea why it happened, but were determined to educate and support me through the overwhelming learning curve. I was sent home with a new perspective on pregnancy, food, exercise, sleep and stress; armed with meal plans, lantus, novolog, and my beloved Freestyle lite glucometer. I cried a lot those first few weeks. I had lived a healthy lifestyle for my first 27 years and could not understand why my body would betray me. I was angry at my body and fought against the reality of the disease emotionally, mentally and physically. I tried to deny it (example: eating just a "few more carbs" for dinner) but two hours and one high glucose test later was reminded that this really isn't going away. I still cry. I still curse the pancreas that failed and wish that I could be more spontaneous with food and exercise. But I'm grateful for the community of support I've discovered. My endocrinologist and her educators who answer my many detailed questions, my family who encourage me to press on through the highs and lows (literally), and my fellow diabetics who help me find humor in something serious. A year later I am now armed with a new purple pancreas (Medtronic Minimed)and a determination to run as far and as much as I used to. I want to go to bed without the fear of passing out. I want to accept my body for what it is now and be grateful for what it can still accomplish. I went on my first run this morning and was quickly reminded how out of running shape I am. Of course I told myself many things like "woah...I didn't realize how much stamina I've lost" or, "I wonder if I look as exhausted as I really feel?" and "since when did I get so jiggly?" I was able to stop the negativity by realizing "you are finally running again, enjoy the moment even though your quads hurt because they haven't been worked like this in months." It was progress. My attitude still isn't where I want it to be and I'm pretty sure I will still glare at every runner with amazing calves who seems to complete a route up the canyon with ease--no sweat and no problem (and definitely no jiggle). That's not me now and who knows if it will ever be. But I am working on getting to a place where I feel confident in my diabetes control by constantly seeking to better understand how different variables affect my glucose. It's a journey, and it's mine. I can't do anything else but move through it, learn about it, and work with it.