BREAKTHROUGH.

We don't have any of this figured out. We probably never will. I think Type 1 Diabetes will always be a game where just when you think you have something figured out, it changes. A game where just when you think you have something under control, it changes. A game where the rules change every single minute. A game that you will never ever be able to win. 

Some days this all still feels brand new. Other days it feels like we've been in the Type 1 world since the dinosaurs roamed the earth. It's an exhausting world. It's a lonely world. It's a world that pushes you to your limits on a daily basis. It's a hard world. 

It's a world where you are forever balancing being a parent and being a substitute pancreas. It's a world where you have to constantly decide if you need to step in or if you need to let your child figure things out on their own. It's a world where you have to constantly check if this is a moment where you offer words or offer a hug. 

All I want to do is make my daughter's life as easy as possible where her Diabetes is concerned so that she can have the best and longest life possible. All I want is for her to feel like a normal 13 year old. As normal as she possibly can anyway. I don't want her to feel singled out. I don't want her to feel like her Diabetes defines her. I want her to go on sleepovers. And out for pizza or ice cream with her friends. I want her to feel secure and capable as she participates in after school activities and volunteers at church on the weekends. I want her to enjoy life to the fullest.

I say all that, yet it's been two years and I still go to bed afraid every night. What if we miss a low? What is she has a seizure? What if she doesn't wake up in the morning? I worry when she goes to school. I wonder if I need to leave my job so that I can take this beast on full time. Because this beast is a full time job in and of itself. But I love my job. It's my personal oasis; it's my space where I can be myself for a little while. So instead, I spend my commute listening to Type 1 podcasts. I spend my evenings reading books and articles. I spend my spare time looking at charts and graphs asking myself where we went wrong and how can we do it better tomorrow. I am continually looking for ways to ease this burden for my daughter--now and into her future. 

I do wish I would've kept a journal to document our journey though. To document my feelings. To document Addison's feelings. To document our experiences. I think I am finally feeling ready to do that now. I am finally ready to really learn about Type 1 Diabetes rather than just manage the highs and lows. I am ready to document and to remember and to even share our story. I am ready to find my little corner of the T1 world; to find my contribution. I am ready for my own personal breakthrough. I figure if others can be determined enough to find amazing breakthroughs such as carb counting and the discovery of Insulin, surely I can be determined enough to find my own breakthrough and move from merely surviving to actually thriving. (which, by the way, if you've never read Breakthrough, you should. it's a great book.) 

So in this space I will be sharing what we are learning. What has worked for our family. What we love to eat. What we're feeling. What we're trying. What we're doing. How we're living and trying to thrive in This Type One Life. 

D-DAY.

August 22, 2019.

D-Day.

I will never forget that day as long as I live. It was supposed to be a quick doctor's appointment before heading to the Minnesota State Fair as a family. Well, the doctor's appointment was quick, but we never made it to the fair that day. 

Instead, we were given the news that our 11-year old daughter Addison, had Type1 Diabetes. Then, before we were even given a moment to digest that news, we were asked to pick a hospital to take her to. We had our choice of two, and neither sounded like a fun option. 

I remember thinking through my tears + through my fears "how am I even supposed to decide?" My daughter's life hung in that balance--what if I made the wrong choice? 

Then came the moment we needed to tell our older two, who were waiting for us at home. First, we had to break the news to them that our lives were forever changed. That Addison's life was forever changed. And then we had to tell them that we wouldn't be going to the State Fair that day after all. That instead, we would be spending the next few days at a hospital learning how to care for this new, unwanted thing that decided to take root in our lives. 

Trying to understand carb counts, carb to insulin ratios, and everything else that goes along with this beast called Type1 Diabetes, was like drinking from a fire hose. I jotted information down as fast as they were giving it to us. I stared off into space. I kept telling anyone who would listen that we were supposed to be at the fair that day, not sitting here learning how to give our 11 year old insulin injections. I snapped at them each time they asked if we had any questions. And I kept wishing I had a cup of coffee. I needed something warm to wrap my hands around.

The drive home from the hospital that day felt surreal. And long. Our 45-minute commute felt like a 4 hour road trip. And if I'm honest, that would've been preferable. A road trip would've meant life was good. A road trip would've meant Addison was healthy. 

I remember leaning my head against the car window + closing my eyes to hold the tears in while 'Walk Me Home' by Pink played on the radio. I remember thinking to myself how true the line "Walk me home in the dead of night. I can't be alone with all that's on my mind" was. I didn't want to be on this journey. I didn't want Addison to have to be on this journey. I was grieving for what we had lost earlier that morning. I was grieving for my child. I was grieving for things we didn't even know about. I just wanted to go back to the day before, because nothing was wrong the day before.

And then, I did the only thing I knew how to do. 

I pulled myself up by my bootstraps, I wiped the tears from my face, and with an ice cold glass of Coke in my hand (my crutch of choice when I have a bad day), I vowed that our family wasn't going to just survive this storm. Our family was going to thrive in this storm. My daughter was going to thrive in this storm. 

And so began our family's journey to live This Type One Life, and to live it well.