This morning as I was pouring my first cup of coffee I had the thought that 10 years ago today at that time I had no clue what was to come. I had no clue the tears and the sleepless nights that would follow. I didn't know then that my son's life would forever be altered.
10 years ago was a blur of wet bed sheets, begging for water, a "HI" on the blood sugar machine, teeny tiny fingers oozing drops of blood, a hospital room, IVs and bubbles, salty tears and the smell of band aides. I will never, ever forget that day for as long as I live. Every year I think the anniversary won't evoke too many feelings. And, every year it does.
Back then, Riley was a little thing. Each blood sugar check evoked much curiosity as he looked on in fascination at the blood oozing from his little finger. Now, he's only an inch shorter than me and blood sugar checks occur while he carries on a conversation with his friends, barely even glancing at his finger in the process.
Back then, he ran from us when we tried to give him insulin. Now, he receives his insulin via a pump but bemoans his sensor change for about 30 minutes before finally relenting and bracing himself for the needle stick. Then, we were checking his sugar upwards of 15 times a day. He had no sense of being low. Now, he checks 2 times a day and his wonderful super-fantastical Dexcom (WSFD) does the rest. Then, I was up many times during the night and walked around like a zombie all day. Now, his WSFD alerts me of lows and highs and I sleep through the night almost every single night and feel like a human again.
Lots has changed since that day 10 years ago. But, one things still remains. An insidious disease resides in my little man's body. It dictates moods and eating habits. It attends all birthdays and holiday functions. It rears it's ugly head in the middle of sleep and soccer games. It lulls you into thinking all is well only to strike out with no notice. That will never change.
Diabetes will go off to college with him. It will be at the altar on his wedding day and in the birthing room when he hears his child's first cry. But, it will not taint those days because he won't let it. He will revel in the freedom and scariness of being on his own for the first time. He will stand in awe as he looks at his beautiful bride walking toward him down the isle. He will count each little finger and toe and wonder at the sweetness he had a hand in making.
Today, I am thankful for a happy, healthy Riley. I am thankful for all the advances made in diabetes care over the past decade and for more to come. I am thankful that even though diabetes is a part of his life, it will never BE his life. I am thankful, so, so, thankful that I get to be his mom. All of that trumps diabetes every single time. And it always will.