Different Ways of Coping

As we've traversed these new waters, I've come to realize we all cope differently.

Selah has just 'gone with the flow' and adapted to her new way of life.  Not saying she's not been sad or struggled, but... in general..... 'it is, what it is' with her.  At 6 she already understands that foods with protein have no carbs, therefore, cheese and nuts are 'free foods' for all intents and purposes. When it's time for a snack, just ask for cheese.  LOL!

Techno has adapted by talking to his own endocrinologist and has armed himself with knowledge of all the technology at our fingertips to make this journey easier.  Less traumatic all around.

Our older kids have delved into helping out with her care - learning what her target ranges are, being part of her sugar checks, learning what type 1 diabetes actually is and how to counter what well meaning people may say that just isn't quite right.

I on the other hand, just needed to cry.  To mourn.  To feel all these raw and broken emotions.  And.... to write about it, here.

It felt like I might never stop crying.

Like my emotional state was going to be ragged forever.

Chafe, fragmented, and tattered was going to be my countenance.

But, it wasn't.

I didn't stay there - completely.

However, I realized that part of what I needed was for people to just let me feel sad.

Let me cry.

Let me recoil.

Let me lash out in my unbridled fretfulness.

Allow me to feel the emotions that were coming at me. Through me.

For people not to tell me 'it would be ok'.

Not to hear, 'it could be worse.'

I didn't want to feel I was WRONG because I was sad.  Shattered.  Raw.

I needed ears to listen.

A shoulder to cry on.

Someone saying, "It's ok.  This is normal.  You CAN cry.  Yell.  Sleep.  Whatever it takes to make it through the storm."

I wanted people to reach out and tell us they loved us.  They were praying for us.

That helped.

It healed.

I guess, for me, I just needed..... time.

Time to feel the emotions.

Time to acknowledge the reality of this life-long diagnosis.

Time to emerge out of the visceral state in which I began.

Time to be ready to face others who were concerned for Selah - to be able to talk about the situation.

Time..... to...... breath.

To.....

Grieve......

and.....

Eventually......

Accept.

Finding Joy in the Hard Times

Well, so much for feeling like I was coming out of my emotional pit.

All those tears? That feeling of being compressed and pushed down?

Yeah, there back.

I woke up fine. Felt good.  Even chipper, I'd dare say.

But.... the day continued.

By mid-morning, I was reading Facebook and listening to the kiddos play.  I skimmed over a few posts from the new groups I'm following on 'parent's of children with type 1 diabetes.'

That's when it started coming back.

The sadness.

The tears.

The feeling of being swallowed in that emotional pit, again.

I tried to blame the groups - the posts I was reading.

Techno reminded me that I needed to feel these feelings. I needed to deal with my sadness in my own way.

Yes, hearing other moms' struggles; hearing of situations we've not yet faced; reading of conflicts brought on BY diabetes; all that MAY have played a part in triggering the tears again, but.... in reality.... it was just life.

It was grief.

Grief doesn't just one day 'up and leave'.  It's funny that way - it lingers, holds on.

It's there.  In the background.  In the foreground.  In the middle ground.

It's.     All.     Around.

I went to the store for groceries and the kids Easter stuff.

I stood in the 'candy aisle' looking at all the Easter candy options.

I wanted to cry.

I'm pretty sure if no one else had been standing in that aisle, I would have broken down in tears.

I picked up bag after bag of candy. Checking the labels.  Looking at the amount of carbs per serving.  Placing MOST bags back on the shelves with a sigh.

The sadness was deep.

Such a simple task - picking out candy - had become a monumental feat, it seemed.

But... in the end... I discovered that one of her favorite candies - Smarties - only had 6 carbs for a WHOLE roll.

A WHOLE ROLL!

That's HUGE!

She could have a whole tube of one of her favorite treats.

So.... even though it was stressful. Tearful.  I learned something good. Something fun for Selah.

I continue to be sad.  To grieve.

However, I will also continue to force myself to see the good.  To feel the joy.

As someone mentioned; yes, this is a hard diagnosis.  A terrible life altering disease. But.... we still have Selah with us.  Her life continues.  There's joy in that alone.

Yes, the sadness will hit.  Yes, the tears may fall.  Yet, joy will permeate if I allow it.  If I focus on it.

Selah can still have a wonderful life ahead of her.

A life filled with purpose.

A life full of joy.

Our Second Class

Attending diabetes education classes in Denver is now part of our 'routine', so to speak.

Being there.  Talking.  Listening.  It was another step in the healing and learning process.

I realized while we were there that Selah is ONE TOUGH cookie. I also realized I'm getting stronger.  Techno is more open about his own situation.  Our other children are adapting well.

We will all weather this storm just fine.

Not saying there won't be some rough waters, but.... our ship is going to stay afloat.

Our class was a group setting.

Several kids around Selah's age.  A Jr High aged boy.  A senior in high school getting ready to head off to college in August.  And.... a little 18 month old toddler.

It was amazing to see the resiliency in all these kids. But... especially in that little bitty one.

It allowed me to appreciate the fact that Selah being 6 at diagnosis was actually a blessing.

She can verbalize how she feels; what she wants to eat; when she's hungry. 

All those things that we sorta take for granted.  

That little guy?  Often all he could do was whine or cry to get his point across.

He experienced a low blood sugar while we were there.  His parents, like us, just 'went into motion'. Finger pricked; blood sugar checked; juice grabbed; he drank.  Wait 10 minutes, start over.  Fortunately that was all it took and his sugars were back in range.

Still - how frightening for them. For him.

This is reality for all of us now.

These steps will be part of our everyday life.

Sitting there, with other parents of newly diagnosed children with diabetes, I saw many of the same emotions I've been going through.

Fear.

Sadness.

Control.

Lack of control.

Anger.

Confusion.

Uncertainty.

They all felt it too.  In varying degrees.  At different times.

In each situation, it was amazing to see how the kiddos -- the ones WITH the actual diagnosis -- seemed to be adapting and accepting so much easier than the parents.  Some more so than others, but by far, it seemed the parents - usually mama - was the one struggling. Fearing.  Fretting.

I'm not sure why, but this class helped me feel stronger.  More confident.  More at ease with our 'new life'.

I talked openly about what all we've been dealing with. Feeling.  The trials and triumphs we've experienced.

I saw fear in the eyes of those other mother's.  I saw the raw emotions on the verge of erupting.  I felt their sadness for their children.  I heard the uncertainty in their voices.

I saw me.... in them.

It helped.  It strengthened.  It healed.

I'm not saying I am 'over' all the emotional turmoil that this diagnosis has brought into our lives, but.... I can honestly say I feel capable of coping now.  To get stronger.  To move forward.

I no longer cry every time I make a pot of coffee.  :-)  That's progress, right?

I can even giggle at the fact that I DID cry several mornings while making coffee.  As if the coffee pot had ANYTHING to do with this situation.

Grief is a funny thing.

I feel so blessed we have so many resources available to us.  Not only in terms of dealing with diabetes, but also dealing with the 'stuff' that comes along with it.  The emotions; the crying; the anger; the fear; the acceptance.

I pray that I can be of help to another parent going through a similar situation.  Maybe now.  Maybe a family in our class.  Maybe years from now.  A new mom feeling the same raw, broken, irrational emotions I felt those first days, weeks.

I know God has a plan.  I'm looking forward to seeing that plan unfold before me.  I'm reveling in HOW God will use me.  Use Selah.  Use our family.  To help others.

Life Goes On

Isn't it interesting how life just moves along even when something monumental happens to us?

Yep, life doesn't seem to get the memo when we'd like it to just 'slow down' or even stop, because of circumstances we are going through. Circumstances out of our control.

That's what I'm learning as we adapt to our new 'norm' of parents of a diabetic child.

Church activities, grocery shopping, orthodontist appointments, work, school....

They.... all.... just... kept.... going.

Last week Elijah got braces put on his lower teeth.

Not exactly a fun day, but exciting - sorta.

Since we were out and it was lunch time, we grabbed lunch out as a treat.

He picked Q-doba.

A nice time of chatting and munching.

It's always nice to spend a little one-on-one time with each kiddo.

We've found dentist, doctor, and orthodontist appointments a perfect built in opportunity to do this.

I enjoyed hearing about Elijah's interests as we ate.

Legos.

Books. Particularly Lemony Snickets.

School.

I listened to his feelings of Jacob being off at college and the joy he gets when Jacob is home for a spell.

It was nice.

Just the two of us.

Just normal life.

Life does go on.

That's good.

No, it's GREAT!

It was wonderful to have a break from counting, calculating, thinking about diabetes.

I knew Selah was in good hands. Safe at home with daddy and her sisters.  Her needs would be tended to.

For those couple of  hours, I just sat.  Listening.  Talking.  Enjoying time with our son.

Smiles and Release

Going to church on a couple Sundays ago was like salve to my soul.

In more ways than one.

Hearing God's Word; teaching a Sunday School lesson; praying with other believers - all those things fed my soul with the life-giving promises of God.

However, just. being. out.....

                Being with other people.....
     
                            Watching Selah be..... Selah.....

                                             Was healing to my heart too.

I smiled.

I laughed.

I talked about Selah's condition WITHOUT tears.

We went through all the steps of checking her blood sugar; calculating carbs and insulin amounts; administering insulin.

It was all -- dare I say -- normal?

Almost anyway.

I guess I really am moving forward.

We really are adjusting to our new way of life.

Not that there weren't moments.  Sad ones.  Hard ones.

One of the deacons asked for prayers and testimonies.  He then specifically mentioned the blessing of Selah being home. Of how scary that first night was.

Tears welled in my eyes then.  

But... those tears were tears of blessing as much as tears of sadness.

Life could have been different had we not known what was possibly going on with her BEFORE it got bad.

It was also difficult when it came time for our fellowship dinner and she wanted a taste of ALL the yummy looking desserts displayed before her.

I'm thankful she's so resilient.  So smart.

She understood that TOO MANY carbs aren't necessarily a good idea.  She understood that she needed to make a CHOICE as to WHICH dessert to indulge.

Ironically, last week, I really just wanted to stay  home.  Be reclusive.  Retreat.

Anything but be with other people outside of our family.

Sunday?  I struggled initially with wanting to leave the house.  Part of me would have been happy to stay home and recoil inward.

But... that wasn't an option.

I'm so glad I put away my misgivings.  I'm so glad I put on a smile and went.

What release it gave to be with others.  To LIVE life.  To realize that our 'new' normal isn't much different than our 'old' normal.

Just a few more steps and bit more calculating.

Family Bonds

Seeing how our other children have responded to the news that Selah is a type 1 diabetic, has been quite heart warming.

The worry they exhibited as we left for the hospital that Thursday night.

The sadness they displayed when they heard the diagnosis.

The relief they exuded knowing she was ok - despite the diagnosis.

The willingness to learn about her diagnosis.

It's all been.... AMAZING!

Charity wants to know Selah's blood sugar numbers EVERY TIME I take it.

Trinity monitors how many carbs are in the foods we're preparing. She keeps track of what Selah's eating and let's me know. 

Elijah stands beside me, getting the blood glucose monitor ready; test strips out; alcohol swab prepared.  He's anxious to help care for his baby sister.

Bethany is the comforter.  She holds Selah's hand or distracts her as I'm giving her shots.

Jacob just wishes he could be home more to help.

This new experience we're going through?

It's been quite the means for our family to bond.

It's brought us closer.

Those first days, that first week, really - when I was so distraught - the older kids really chipped in.

They did their chores without being asked. They helped the younger girls with schoolwork while Techno and I were gone with Selah.

In essence.... they held down the fort.

I'm glad that in these times of trouble, we have all pressed in to one another - not pulled apart.

I'm sure in the future we may still have times of upheaval. Times of grief. Times where we will pull away instead of pressing in.

Yet, I feel certain, more often than not - our family will hold tight -- to one another..... To God.

Through those actions - we'll pull through ---- just fine.

Grief is Ok

I've really been struggling, emotionally, with Selah's diagnosis.

I've cried more often than I haven't.

Yet, I've also adapted to our new 'routine' of finger sticks, sugar checks, and insulin shots.

Selah's adapted even better.

Still.... tears fall.... often.

I've been struggling internally with WHY.  Not so much 'why did Selah get diabetes, but Why am I such an emotional wreck?'

A friend from Ohio sent me a message that really helped.

As Selah's mom - I want to take her suffering for her.  I want to remove this 'life sentence' from her.

However....   I. Can't.

I know that.

It hurts.

It's HARD.

This friend acknowledged my feelings.  My grief.

She told me it was 'ok' to feel these feelings.

It was ok to still be sad. To cry.

Her words helped.  Healed.

Techno and I have talked about it, too.

I know it's OK to feel sad; to cry; to struggle.

However, I'm not used to being so emotional, so consistently, so long.

It was good to hear that such grief is ok; normal even.

It was helpful to have someone outside of our family to simply acknowledge my feelings and say 'it's ok to feel it and to go through it.'

I am learning to accept that these feelings will lesson.  The hurt will get easier.

I also acknowledge that the tears may erupt - out of nowhere - at anytime.

And you know what?

I'm learning to realize....

      THAT'S.....

             OK!!