Thursday, July 30, 2009
Please comment
If you are reading here, please comment. I feel I am the tree falling in the forest. If I have followers, please let me know!
A Peaceful Time
Both girls have been empathetic and peaceful this week. It helps that we have a tv and laptop for each. We all miss RandMcNally who is at camp. We are all looking forward to our one week vacation a week from this Saturday. Even, I am too cool to be family oriented Hemingway is looking forward to our time as a little family. Diabetes seems ok, but we'll see when I download. I have been having a conversation with a Canadian mom of a gal just the same age as Peony at diagnosis and now. It has been a fabulous connection. She is setting up a business site for gals with caregivers and diabetes type 1. I am hesitantly willing to join her conversation, but what she is doing is great. The type 1 experience is so different for girls/women. I'd love to open this conversation. Fun times!
More later.
More later.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Back in the Saddle Again
So, the girls came home on Wednesday, full of stories and enthusiasm. No diabetes issues for Peony. Wonderful. Thursday-Saturday were pretty normal, the girls were home alone during work days and on Saturday we went to the mall with my mom. I needed a shower present and ladybug and my mom and I went in search of Williams Sonoma (could buy the whole store!) and peony and her friend roamed. All good. Tonight, I came home from the shower to find a distressed Peony. Her rib hurt. I gave her an ace bandage type thing and some advil. I just went to ask her what she wanted for dinner and she is in bed with the blanket over her head. What is going on? I asked her to test, and she shouted! I am letting her stew but my heart is breaking. I want this to be eaiser.
More later.
More later.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
Girls Home Tomorrow!
Yay! It is way too quiet around here, just me and Hemingway and our laptops. I know the noise may be fighting with each other, but ... I can't wait for the hugs and the stories. The camp directors didn't really want her to leave, but in truth, she was hesitant to sign up for six weeks and I didn't really listen. When I was a camper, I loved going for the full session and Ladybug loved her full session experiences. I forgot to factor in the huge fact that everyone is different. Peony is much more connected to her pals at home.
In any event, I will be going to work early so I can leave early, arrive at the bus stop too early with butterflies! My mother loves to tell the story of waiting with open arms while my sister and I got off the bus, hugging new best friends and crying, totally avoiding her. This plays out for me every year! On the ride home and for the next year, they never stop talking about camp. It is a real financial stretch for me to provide this experience for my kids. (RandMcNally went to the boy's camp for three weeks for the first time this summer, he is just finishing week one.) I think it's just that valuable.
More later.
In any event, I will be going to work early so I can leave early, arrive at the bus stop too early with butterflies! My mother loves to tell the story of waiting with open arms while my sister and I got off the bus, hugging new best friends and crying, totally avoiding her. This plays out for me every year! On the ride home and for the next year, they never stop talking about camp. It is a real financial stretch for me to provide this experience for my kids. (RandMcNally went to the boy's camp for three weeks for the first time this summer, he is just finishing week one.) I think it's just that valuable.
More later.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
She wants to come home.
After the first two weeks at camp I got a letter from Peony saying she didn't want to stay for the last two week session (that's her fifth and sixth week). Her letter informed me that an email from me about how she should stay and have a great time wouldn't work. She also said she would save her babysitting money and pay me back for the fee. Her sister, ladybug, was coming for the next two week session, plus there would be many kids coming to start with the next two week session and stay one more for four weeks. I am optomistic she will bond with a four-weeker, but I really don't mind if she comes home. I serve on the advisory board for this camp that I attended in the late 60s early 70s, so I get some slack. I want to support her feelings but in these last weeks I have been writing letters and ignoring the issue. A week from today, ladybug comes home. If she does too, ok. we'll start the dexcom early and get her to her therapist. Maybe if I tell her that, she'll stay at camp!!!
more later
more later
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
What Dx Means to Everyone
Diabetes is a big deal to the kid who has it and the parent who has to help, but what about everyone else?
Hemingway was oblivious. We had fun with him because all he could say was "there are no carbs in cheese!" I told him that could be the name of his book. The game changed when Robert, a friend of his in sophomore year was dx and had to quit cross country. When he slept over at our house, I don't think anyone appreciated me asking him to test before pancakes. But....
Ladybug and Peony are chalk and cheese. Two years apart and hormones! Great. But, whenever Peony needs diabetes help, Ladybug is right there. She knows how to count carbs and all the ratios. The empathy growth is amazing and may be quite worth the price.
RandMcNally is younger than Peony and I wonder if he remembers her before diabetes. In any event, he is quick to run for the juice and he has an understanding of the disease.
So, my bottom line is diabetes is rotten, but it engenders empathy in the family and that's not a bad thing.
More later.
Hemingway was oblivious. We had fun with him because all he could say was "there are no carbs in cheese!" I told him that could be the name of his book. The game changed when Robert, a friend of his in sophomore year was dx and had to quit cross country. When he slept over at our house, I don't think anyone appreciated me asking him to test before pancakes. But....
Ladybug and Peony are chalk and cheese. Two years apart and hormones! Great. But, whenever Peony needs diabetes help, Ladybug is right there. She knows how to count carbs and all the ratios. The empathy growth is amazing and may be quite worth the price.
RandMcNally is younger than Peony and I wonder if he remembers her before diabetes. In any event, he is quick to run for the juice and he has an understanding of the disease.
So, my bottom line is diabetes is rotten, but it engenders empathy in the family and that's not a bad thing.
More later.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
Dexcom 7
My kids are covered by my exhusband's insurance, blue cross, blue shield illinois. They will not cover a continuous glucose monitor for anyone under age 27. (why?) I decided to make a request and play the claim out. My employer has an advocate for claims denial I thought would be helpful. In any event, they approved her!!!! The salesperson and I have no idea why, but'"we''re not going to question it. It is now sitting in my bedroom waiting for us to be trained. I hope to get trained so when we are on vacation and I am with Peony 24/7 we can get acclimated. I am optimistic, but I realize it is just a machine, and she has to buy in and thirteen ism gets in the way. I am so thankful for sixuntilme.com Kerri has given me a glide path. Wish us luck.
More later.
More later.
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Our Dx Story
Diagnosis stories seem to be a common conversation topic when people with diabetes meet. As a parent of a child with type 1, I consider it "our" story and now's a good time to share it here. A preface: there is a bit of my personal backstory that must be revealed here. I thought about avoiding its inclusion, but it may prove helpful to someone, so please forgive the TMI if it offends.
The first time my then-husband hit me, Hemingway was 18 months old and I was early pregnant with ladybug. As I waited for an apology, he said he'd do it again. And he did. Why I didn't leave then is a subject for another blog.
Fast forward to November 2002. Now I'm four kids strong. I offend, somehow, and he shoved me down the one-step into the family room. I hit a chair going down and I completely lost my breath. The kids were playing outside. I thought I was going to die and I realized he didn't care if the kids came in and found me dead on the floor. I began a heavy evaluation of what my life was and what I could expect my life to be.
Then, unexpectedly, my dad had triple by-pass surgery right around Christmas. Other than watching the kids so I could do my shifts to help my family, he ignored the whole event and even skipped Christmas dinner. I was chilled to realize that he wasn't willing to act the happy family act anymore. I knew he could easily cut me out too.
He continued to refuse to consider counselling and after one more episode in May, I found strength in grace, grew a backbone and told my dirty secret. Of course, my family was stunned and jumped in to help. I tearily visited my Pastor, who told me to focus on the vows I made at my children's baptisms and not fuss over the wedding vows. He could have taken a very different approach and I did meet some Catholic clergy who thought I should not have left. My Pastor did much to save my life. June, 2003, went to court and filed for and was granted an order of protection.
(An aside: this decision was incredibly difficult to me although now it seems a no-brainer. The drive to testify for the order of protection was going to be heavy. As I opened the car door, I saw that he had clipped his cigar in my driver's seat before leaving for work that morning. That typically mean gesture gave me new resolve.)
I told the kids and they cried. Hemingway said "I knew this has to happen, I just wish it didn't." We hide out at a hotel until his lawyer contacted mine. He challenged the order and to make a long story short, the woman judge vacated the order and ordered me to let him back in the house. "Mustn't have been so bad since you never called the police" she said. A discussion of calling the police to report an abusive fireman is for another blog. When I told the kids, Ladybug cried for 40 minutes sobbing "I thought you said the judge would do the right thing!" I wish the judge could have seen that.
So, we are all under one roof and surprisingly he expects reconciliation. He works 24 hours every third day, so I propose I am in charge of kids two days and he gets the third. The kids turn to me if I'm there so I begin leaving the house before dawn, working out, sitting at bookstores, crazy. We are working on a parenting agreement so I can leave the house with the kids. We attend court-ordered mediation and we spend the whole first session discussing why I ruined his family and refuse to reconcile. He still denies any abuse, verbal or physical. I empathise, I did change the ground rules of our marriage. But, there is no going back, no hope that he would or even could change.
Finally, we get a calendar he agrees on. At this point, I am so desperate to get out I concede most points to him. He counts days. He wants every Friday. Three out of four weekends. Mid-week sleep overs. OK, OK, OK. He says we have to live within 10 miles of our marital home (which will have to be sold). This is solely to avoid any chance I could move in with my parents. OK. It's not what I want, but I keep focused on what we need: to get out!
January, 2004 he agrees to sign off. My realtor brother immediately starts seriously looking for a rental. Long story short, we find one (very expensive), furnish it from pots and pans to matresses to sheets and towels. Everyone empties their basements of furniture. My siblings drop everything to help me move and make the transition as painless as possible for my kids. I am grateful for my family showing my little family how families work, in good times and bad.
(Aside: I had been a SAHM since 1991. I am so grateful for the generosity of my parents. Now I am really focused on attaining a degree of financial security such that I can be there for my kids, should they need it, like my mom and dad were there for me.)
So 2004 passes as we hammer out the money side of the marriage. The kids finish off the school year at their old schools. They see their dad constantly. They complain to their therapist (in front of me in a joint session) that they want more mom time. This is a big growth time for me. I had been really entwined with my kids. I know I needed to step back, but it was painful at the time. Also, he ramped up his verbal abuse of the kids by focusing on Peony, saying things like "you are most like me" "you'll never leave me" "you are the best kid" Even the other kids started to have Peony ask for stuff they wanted because "he always says yes to her!"
The end of the year approached and we negotiate a new calendar for 2005. I accepted it immediately as it was totally scaled back. Guess what? Having four kids every Friday when you have a new girlfriend isn't so much fun.
The kids are at new schools and making friends. Peony is having a hard time with third grade. She has a teacher on the verge of retirement who confesses she has a really immature class. I hire a nanny and prepare to go back to work. My job is a really cool story, but again not for this blog. I'm to start February 1, 2005. The idea of not having me at home is unsettling to all, especially Peony. The new visitation schedule starts and she really misses her dad. She asks me for more dad time and I encourage her to ask him and tell her I will always agree to more dad time. She is really, really sad. We talk about it and she has no idea how I can help. Her therapist is worried too. Then she starts wetting the bed. She's only 8, so I really think it's emotional and I feel really guilty.
January 24, 2005, we meet with the judge to sign off on the final divorce. He has "given" me more miles, so I will be able to move closer to my family. That night, God came to me and told me that it's not all about me and I should have Peony checked out physically. The next day, January 25, 2005 we were admitted to the hospital and started the wild ride that is life with diabetes.
Another aside: all my kids think of the 2004 house as the best one, with the best neighborhood, etc. What they don't realize is that what they really liked about that time was the peace. Outside of the toxic atmosphere of my marital house we were happier, kinder, more loving, more tolerant. Just better. Also in late January, 2005, Hemingway asked if we weren't close to our anniversary of moving there. I said I would have to check, and it was. He and Ladybug decreed we had to have a party with pizza and cake to celebrate. Words can't express how that made me feel.
Whew. Thanks for hanging in there.
More later.
The first time my then-husband hit me, Hemingway was 18 months old and I was early pregnant with ladybug. As I waited for an apology, he said he'd do it again. And he did. Why I didn't leave then is a subject for another blog.
Fast forward to November 2002. Now I'm four kids strong. I offend, somehow, and he shoved me down the one-step into the family room. I hit a chair going down and I completely lost my breath. The kids were playing outside. I thought I was going to die and I realized he didn't care if the kids came in and found me dead on the floor. I began a heavy evaluation of what my life was and what I could expect my life to be.
Then, unexpectedly, my dad had triple by-pass surgery right around Christmas. Other than watching the kids so I could do my shifts to help my family, he ignored the whole event and even skipped Christmas dinner. I was chilled to realize that he wasn't willing to act the happy family act anymore. I knew he could easily cut me out too.
He continued to refuse to consider counselling and after one more episode in May, I found strength in grace, grew a backbone and told my dirty secret. Of course, my family was stunned and jumped in to help. I tearily visited my Pastor, who told me to focus on the vows I made at my children's baptisms and not fuss over the wedding vows. He could have taken a very different approach and I did meet some Catholic clergy who thought I should not have left. My Pastor did much to save my life. June, 2003, went to court and filed for and was granted an order of protection.
(An aside: this decision was incredibly difficult to me although now it seems a no-brainer. The drive to testify for the order of protection was going to be heavy. As I opened the car door, I saw that he had clipped his cigar in my driver's seat before leaving for work that morning. That typically mean gesture gave me new resolve.)
I told the kids and they cried. Hemingway said "I knew this has to happen, I just wish it didn't." We hide out at a hotel until his lawyer contacted mine. He challenged the order and to make a long story short, the woman judge vacated the order and ordered me to let him back in the house. "Mustn't have been so bad since you never called the police" she said. A discussion of calling the police to report an abusive fireman is for another blog. When I told the kids, Ladybug cried for 40 minutes sobbing "I thought you said the judge would do the right thing!" I wish the judge could have seen that.
So, we are all under one roof and surprisingly he expects reconciliation. He works 24 hours every third day, so I propose I am in charge of kids two days and he gets the third. The kids turn to me if I'm there so I begin leaving the house before dawn, working out, sitting at bookstores, crazy. We are working on a parenting agreement so I can leave the house with the kids. We attend court-ordered mediation and we spend the whole first session discussing why I ruined his family and refuse to reconcile. He still denies any abuse, verbal or physical. I empathise, I did change the ground rules of our marriage. But, there is no going back, no hope that he would or even could change.
Finally, we get a calendar he agrees on. At this point, I am so desperate to get out I concede most points to him. He counts days. He wants every Friday. Three out of four weekends. Mid-week sleep overs. OK, OK, OK. He says we have to live within 10 miles of our marital home (which will have to be sold). This is solely to avoid any chance I could move in with my parents. OK. It's not what I want, but I keep focused on what we need: to get out!
January, 2004 he agrees to sign off. My realtor brother immediately starts seriously looking for a rental. Long story short, we find one (very expensive), furnish it from pots and pans to matresses to sheets and towels. Everyone empties their basements of furniture. My siblings drop everything to help me move and make the transition as painless as possible for my kids. I am grateful for my family showing my little family how families work, in good times and bad.
(Aside: I had been a SAHM since 1991. I am so grateful for the generosity of my parents. Now I am really focused on attaining a degree of financial security such that I can be there for my kids, should they need it, like my mom and dad were there for me.)
So 2004 passes as we hammer out the money side of the marriage. The kids finish off the school year at their old schools. They see their dad constantly. They complain to their therapist (in front of me in a joint session) that they want more mom time. This is a big growth time for me. I had been really entwined with my kids. I know I needed to step back, but it was painful at the time. Also, he ramped up his verbal abuse of the kids by focusing on Peony, saying things like "you are most like me" "you'll never leave me" "you are the best kid" Even the other kids started to have Peony ask for stuff they wanted because "he always says yes to her!"
The end of the year approached and we negotiate a new calendar for 2005. I accepted it immediately as it was totally scaled back. Guess what? Having four kids every Friday when you have a new girlfriend isn't so much fun.
The kids are at new schools and making friends. Peony is having a hard time with third grade. She has a teacher on the verge of retirement who confesses she has a really immature class. I hire a nanny and prepare to go back to work. My job is a really cool story, but again not for this blog. I'm to start February 1, 2005. The idea of not having me at home is unsettling to all, especially Peony. The new visitation schedule starts and she really misses her dad. She asks me for more dad time and I encourage her to ask him and tell her I will always agree to more dad time. She is really, really sad. We talk about it and she has no idea how I can help. Her therapist is worried too. Then she starts wetting the bed. She's only 8, so I really think it's emotional and I feel really guilty.
January 24, 2005, we meet with the judge to sign off on the final divorce. He has "given" me more miles, so I will be able to move closer to my family. That night, God came to me and told me that it's not all about me and I should have Peony checked out physically. The next day, January 25, 2005 we were admitted to the hospital and started the wild ride that is life with diabetes.
Another aside: all my kids think of the 2004 house as the best one, with the best neighborhood, etc. What they don't realize is that what they really liked about that time was the peace. Outside of the toxic atmosphere of my marital house we were happier, kinder, more loving, more tolerant. Just better. Also in late January, 2005, Hemingway asked if we weren't close to our anniversary of moving there. I said I would have to check, and it was. He and Ladybug decreed we had to have a party with pizza and cake to celebrate. Words can't express how that made me feel.
Whew. Thanks for hanging in there.
More later.
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