The tiny human is sleeping soundly while I am typing away the rest of the afternoon. A couple of months ago I would have been delighted for the mini-break, but things have changed. I find myself jumping up and fast-pace-walking to his room just to double triple-check he is still ok. It is only after I put my ice-cold hands in his neck and get a legit-alive reaction that I slowly walk back to my office feeling an overwhelm of relief. It sounds like I did not care as much earlier, which is not true; I just was not as paranoid as I am now.
I call myself paranoid, but is it really paranoia or am I giving this a valid worry? I know I put him to bed with milk, which means that his sugar is slowly rising, so no hypo is on its way. So yes, I suppose to a certain extent I am just being paranoid. But how do I get it to go away? I can’t weigh down all the scientific reasons why my kid is fine every single moment of my life, can I? No, I can’t. Diabetes does not work that way to this mom. I am anxious most moments of most days about our kid’s sugar. Rather high than low, but rather not high either, if that makes sense?
I remember, as a teenager, it was tradition to drive out of town to the railway just before I needed to meet my curfew at home. We would stand close to the tracks and wait for the train – clockwork – to pass. When you closed your eyes you could feel the spaces between the carriages and hear the sound stopping for a fracture of a second. I remember the vulnerable feeling, yet it was so incredibly liberating at the same time. (If you have seen Sunshine Cleaning you will have a vague idea of what I am talking about.) Living with a T1D toddler feels exactly like that. It is so overwhelming and emotionally challenging, yet liberating when things do go right. My understanding of derailing, getting side-tracked and losing track and running out of steam is way clearer since I found a way to express myself.
Back to my question: It is not going away, is it? Sadly so, the answer is no. The train will be running. Clockwork. There will be some derailing, steam-blowing and losing track, but like Chris de Burgh’s Spanish train, she is running, still. And like that train, diabetes is still running in our kid’s little body. On time.
Unlike other kids, our kid asks for peas and cherry tomatoes as treats. So instead of it not going away… It’s just going to get easier.
An often derailing mom,