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.
