The Cadet’s 1st Diabetes Anniversary

On the 11th of January, The Cadet celebrated his first Diaversary!
(which is cheesy Type 1 Diabetes code for the anniversary of diagnosis)
We’re not the type of people to make big brouhahas about most things in life, so where other T1D parents throw parties and celebrations, we spontaneouly went to have frozen yogurt.
{seriously though, we don’t do birthday parties, anniversaries are tame, and we think high fives are legit accolades}

diaversary

Regardless of the lack of fanfare, there was an internal quiet celebration that The Cadet made it through his first year, that we made it through his first year.
There may not have been any Pinterest worthy decor or themed foods, but honestly the fact that The Cadet is still here, healthy and thriving is the biggest gift imaginable.
{thank you, thank you, thank you jesus}

It’s weird to look back at pictures of my brave little boy before he got the illness that was the catalyst for his pancreas quitting.
It seems like another world.
So distant in fact I don’t know how to even long for it.

It’s very painful to look at pictures of him in the ICU just a year ago, so sick and thin, and miserable.

ICU
I remember that week in the hospital studying up on all the things related to diabetes care.
He was in such dire straights when he was admitted that failure seemed certain and costly.
People always joke that when you take home a newborn they just hand them over with minimal instructions and trust that you’ll somehow know how to keep them alive.
It’s laughable to be thrust into that situation 4 years into parenting a child, with equally minimal instructions, literally teetering on the line of life and death.
We totally used to joke with babysitters that our only requirement was that they kept the kids alive, very few people can make that promise to us now.
{and thus ended the expectation of going out with your spouse ever}

final exam

I posted this photo to Instagram the day before he was released, and it was honestly how I was feeling.
The Peanut was months old at the time so I was minimally involved in The Cadet’s diabetes care while he was in the hospital.
My Soldier was at the helm of that ship and by no means had we entered into calm or friendly waters when he was released.

A year later it’s hard to imagine our lives without the constant mental dialogue of carb counts and glucose levels.
It’s just life, specifically his, but completely dictated by My Soldier and me.
Type 1 Diabetes is a beast manged 50% by medical science and 50% by The Force.
{we take star wars references very seriously in this household}
There are times when we have zero clue why his blood sugar is doing what it is doing.
Some time we feel like we’re floundering.

Childrens UAB

Thankfully his endocrinology team at Children’s Hospital at University of Alabama Birmingham is AMAZING.
They’ve got our backs {in the true thug life sense} and have reassured us time and time again that we are doing really well in our care of The Cadet.
Awesome.
Good to know.

{still crazy frustrating at times}

jediabetic

the cadet is a jediabetic

I am thankful that The Cadet is thriving.
Diabetes doesn’t seem to phase the kid.
Sometimes that’s a good thing, sometimes it’s not.
He is asymptomatic when he is hypoglycemic and hyperglycemic…so sometimes we get some surprises.

lowest of the lows
He spent a week in October where his blood sugar regularly dropped into levels that should have landed him unconscious.
Every book I had read said he should have shown one or more signs that his glucose levels where dangerously low, but no, he was procrastinating on folding his laundry and he was arguing with me that by making him finish his chore before lunch that his pizza would get cold.
{no joke, i nearly had a heart attack but remembered to siphon juice into him first}

There are moments where T1D frustrates me to no end.
But I’m not bitter.
Neither is My Soldier.
This is God’s will for The Cadet and for us by proxy {and law as his parents}.
I’m not sure we’ve got enough of that wonderful hindsight perspective at this point to declare his diagnosis as a blessing sent from God.
We might be on the border of thinking it’s been good for him and us as we’ve seen growth and diligence and change in our family.
But we aren’t angry, bitter, upset or even questioning as to why he was given this affliction.
I feel like that’s a major accomplishment deserving of a high-five and frozen yogurt.

So here’s to another year of praising God that my children are still alive.
Here’s to the continued hope of a cure.
Here’s to another year of shots, glucose testing, carb counts and light-saber training.
We have so very much to be thankful for in relation to T1D, so here’s to another year.