When Taking Control Scares the Mama...

It was my night off. I don't get them often... Maybe once every other week or so. The reason behind that is an entire blog post in itself, so I'll save it for later. Justin tested his BG before bed and he was 189, a tad high, but he had about .40u still on board from the strawberry dessert he had at his Nonie's house; so I let him go and told the hubby to set his alarm for 1:30. By all rights, this IOB should have landed him right above 150.

In the night, sometime after 3am (it was actually 3:45am I found later) I feel the hubby jump out of bed. This can only mean he slept through his alarm. Thankfully, so we thought, Justin was sittin pretty with a BG of 145.

The next morning Justin drops the bomb...
"Before I fell asleep last night, I checked my blood and it was 49. I had some Skittles and a Hershey Nugget."

Silence(insert birds tweeting and my heart breaking into 1000 pieces)...

"Thank you for taking care of that, buddy, what time was it?"...

"I don't know", he says.

Looking back in the meter logbook it was a few minutes after midnight.

I don't think about the "what ifs" that much anymore. 5 1/2 years into this T1 journey, we just roll with whatever is thrown our way, but ever since that... I'm scared all over again.

Part of me is extremely mad that Anthony slept through that alarm. Angry that I can't even take one night off without worry. ONE! The thoughts of what if Justin didn't handle it on his own won't leave me... what if... what would he have found at 3:45?

I am so thankful Justin has started taking control and I am proud that he knows how to handle his care. But all I could do, besides praise him for a job well done (he was sitting pretty at 145 after all) and thank him for letting me know what happened, was remind him that no matter what time it is... he can come get me so that I can check him again to make sure he's safe.

I could not imagine the alternative. Praying all of out sweet children sleep safe.

Miss It Here...

I have found myself really missing my blog for the past couple months. REALLY missing it, more so than before. Wishing I had more time to sit down and really get it all out. Not that things are bad; they are actualy pretty good, but I can feel myself needing an outlet. That place where I can leave the shit, the worry, the stuff that's piling up because I'm holding it all in. I need the outlet so that I can fully enjoy the actual triumph(s) in front of me and not expload from overload. Afterall, that was the purpose of me starting this blog in the first place.

I think I took for granted the quiet time I use to have during the day when the kids were in school. At the time, before I went back to work full time, Justin was in elementary school with a nurse that was just as in tune to his diabetes as I am. She was a godsend. During the day, I had time to sit, in the quiet, and write about everything. Some things I published and some things still sit in my drafts box, years later, for me to look back on. Maybe one day I will have the courage to hit the publish button on those posts too. Back then, I had the opportunity to cry the quiet tears without anyone knowing. I miss the quiet sometimes.

Balancing work and home has it's definate challenges... doesn't leave space for the quiet time or even not-so-quiet extra time to sit in front of a computer and blog. I won't complain about my job, however, I know how fortunate I am to be able to work from home. I know how fortunate I am to be off work just as the kids are walking in the door from school. Though, as any job will, it has it's "sressful days", I really do actually like what I do. I'm grateful for that.

Diabetes has been, well...diabetes. Justin has started to step up on his own, he's trying new sites for his pump and really chiming in with how we handle cetain parts of his care. This  makes me proud and stressed all at the same time. He called me the other day for lunch, that converstaion went a little like this...
Me: "Hello"
Justin: "Hi mom, my bg is 127, but just so you know I was 50 in 3rd period so I had some skittles, and then on my way to 4th, I still felt low, so I just had some M&M's."
Me: (jaw on the floor) "okay, do what your pump says for lunch"

Did he even need to call me at that point??

On the flip side of that, he's really starting to get frustrated about being 'different". That's how he describes himself. "Different". That makes me sad. He shouldn't have to feel different. Though the cause of him feeling this way can't be balmed solely on D... all the gizomos and vibrating and blood and beeping... sure doesn't help. He asked me not not make him wear the CGM anymore... "the vibrate is loud and people stare". *sigh*

How do I help him feel less different?