Thursday, March 10, 2011

the waves keep on comming...

Monday morning, March 7th, I woke up like a usual Monday morning.  Why does 6:30 feel so early on Mondays?  I quickly checked FB and blogger and then went to wake the girls up.  I went down stairs and made Bekah's lunch and got my coffee.  I was then setting the table up for Bekah.  (she likes to be independent but I still have to have things set out for her or she gets stressed out)  I set her lunch to the left and placed her daily BG log in the middle with a pen and her meter sat just off to the right.  That is when it hit me like a tidal wave!  It was this Monday a year ago that we were setting the table for a tea party.  Getting ready to celebrate a friend's birthday.  It was about this time on a Monday (her actual dx day is tomorrow but there is something about the day of the week that hit me hard) that I took this photo.  

I never thought I would be brave enough to share this photo.  This photo depicts the ugliness of diabetes as it has emaciated my beautiful daughter.  This picture rarely leaves me, it is ingrained in my head.  It puts a lump in my throat and knot in my stomach every time I look at it.  Look at how sick she was, the pale face, sunken eyes and you can see her bones sticking out of her skin.  How does a mother let this happen?  Oh the fear and the blame, the guilt and the grief overtook me!  I was able to choke back the tears until I got the girls to school.  I know that letting my self feel the grief is what is going to set me free from it.

These are usually the photos that I share when I talk about "that day"...

The photo is of Bekah and one of Nicole's (my friend that shared a guest post) daughters.  I wanted to do something special for her birthday becuase having baby triplet sisters is tough work and she is a great big sister who just needed some special princess time.  Bekah was so cold she had to wear a sweatshirt over her dress.  You can see how pale she is but she is still happy...the subtle ways of D.

So again a wave comes and goes and I feel stronger becuase I let it run it course and didn't fight against it or push it away.  Yes there is joy coming as I pause and thank God once again for giving us a second chance, for the privilege of  counting carbs and bolusing insulin day after day to keep my precious one healthy and happy!  The joy comes in being thankful, but we do need to let ourselves feel the grief.  One, two, five, ten years in there will still be waves of grief and I hope I will remember that feeling them is what will help me grow and then take the time to pause and thank God yet again for his magnificent grace so that I can let the joy back in.

This song really sums up my heart.


  1. A Beautiful post! You and Bekah are very inspiring! Thank you, so much for blogging (:

    I could never be strong as you both!

  2. I liked how you described grief. I think it was perfect..."waves". And, yes they happen again and again. Maybe not as frequently...but they are there.

  3. Wow... those pictures are so startling. I can imagine that they must be hard to look at for you.

    Loved reading about the party you had. Wish we lived there so we could have come too!

  4. I know looking back at those pictures are so hard aren't they, you just feel an ache in the pit of your stomach knowing you missed something for long enough that your child actually looked "sick"...but here she is and you have such a bright outlook on life and the ability to keep her healthy. I admire your insight and willingness to share with us all so candidly.
    Take care :)

  5. I wanted to add that the strange thing is that you never forget that moment that you just "knew", my in laws talk about the exact day that they knew TJ needed to go to the docs right away - how they had argued with him about mowing the lawn and how he just was moping and could barely make it up the stairs, he took his shirt off to put one on he used for yardwork and that's when they knew...
    Some moments really change your life forever.
    Good thing we have one another to remind us of all the blessings that are abundant despite d :)

  6. As I read this post, memories of Jack's diagnosis flooded me. The pale skin, sunken eyes and emaciated body -- I remember "the look" all too well. Oh, what a difference a year makes! Thank goodness for second chances!