About two weeks ago, Laila came home from school, and almost immediately asked for a snack. We were just hanging out in her bedroom, she wanted to go play and asked if she could switch into some comfier clothes. I told her she could have a snack as soon as she changed and she checked her sugar. Almost instantly the tears came streaming down her face, she was practically screaming at me, begging me to let her eat without checking. She never, ever acts this way. Occasionally she'll roll her eyes, or let out a deep sigh, but never does she cry about having to check her sugar. I knew something was wrong, she was either as high as the Empire State Building, or scary low. As if the tears weren't bad enough, she threw up her hands, putting her dotted fingers on display, and shouted, "Look at my fingers!" My heart sank, but a smile spread across my face and I carried her to the kitchen. The most important thing diabetes has ever taught me is to never let on that somethings' wrong.
I held her, rocked her, and offered to check her sugar. Most of the time, Laila chooses to be in control. She checks her own sugar, attaches her own pump, and is even learning to count her own carbohydrates. Once in a while, she'll let me check her sugar-I feel like even if it's just temporarily-I'm taking a bit of a load off. For a 7 year old, diabetes is a whole lot of unwanted responsibility. She checked her sugar to find a whopping 48, not a number we like to see. Not only would she be starving and have to wait 15 minutes before having a real snack, that also meant she couldn't go outside to ride her bike or play with her brother and sister. Anything that could potentially lower her sugar was out of the question, and she knew it.
When she cries, I have to be strong. When she tells me she hates diabetes, I agree. When she wishes it away, I wish it away, too. I am whatever she needs me to be, After she finished her juice, I let her turn on a short tv show and finally agreed to let her have a snack. I was sure she was occupied, so I went into my room and completely, utterly broke down. I lost it, I bawled, wallowed in my own self pity. I cursed this awful disease, I reminisced the day she was diagnosed, and cried for all the innocence she has lost along the way. In the midst of my sob-fest, Laila walked into my room. I didn't hear her coming, she didn't make a sound. I felt her hand on my shoulder, and couldn't help but smile as she wiped my tears away. She didn't ask why I was crying, she already knew. We hugged, and she held me this time. I told her diabetes sucks, and she agreed.
She's so incredibly strong, I wonder where she gets it.