Wednesday, September 22, 2010

I wish...

I'm in a melancholy mood tonight.  Our Step Out for the Cure walk is coming up on Saturday.  Just a few more days to go.  I wanted to actually get in shape for it.  That hasn't happened.  I have such a hard time motivating myself to go to the gym and exercise.  It's not that I don't want to.  It's that I'm incredibly lazy, not to mention tired, worn out, stressed....and I have a million excuses.  I need to give up on the excuses and just push myself to go.  I was also really hoping we'd be closer to our goal.  I set our sights high this year though.  Our goal was $500.  We're at $130.  Not even close to where I wanted to be.  Which is really why I'm in my funk tonight.  You see, I wish I could explain to people how important this is to me.  I wish people could really understand what it's like to be a d-mom.  I tried explaining it once to someone.  The up and down all night long, the nights of no sleep, the anxiety.  Her reply..."oh, I totally get that.  I'm up and down worrying about my kids all night long too."  Not to make light of the stress and strain of just generally being a parent.  I understand that.  It's what I had before Lily was diagnosed.  But only other d-parents "totally get that".  I wish I could get others to understand.  How do you explain to them when there's no way that they could get it?  I wish they could get what it's like to take a trip with your children and have to pull over to the side of the road and hold your baby girl while her body jerks uncontrollably, both of you crying because you're scared, trying to coax her into eating just a little bit more candy.  I wish they could understand what it's like to be so tired and so scared for your child that you crawl into bed with her and hold her all night as you both sleep, just because you don't want to walk away from her because her blood sugars are stuck on a see-saw and you can't get them off.  I wish they could understand what it's like to hold a teeny tiny little finger, searching for a spot that's not completely calloused from the last year of finger-pokes, to ask your little girl to hold still while you prep her tiny little butt for a new infusion site and fight the urge to cry over how still she holds, how brave she is, how amazing calm and grownup she is, in spite of only being three!

You know what my greatest wish is though?  My absolute greatest wish, the one I wish more than anything, is that no parent would ever have to "totally get" this.  I wish diabetes were something we could fight like we would any other enemy.  I wish all the tears we, as parents of children with diabetes, have cried could be collected and used to drown diabetes, to obliterate it and wash it away, leaving no trace of it behind.  Oh, how wonderful would that be?  Someday.....Until then, I'm going to hold my daughter close and fight as hard as I can to keep her as happy and healthy and safe as she deserves to be!

9 comments:

  1. I love you. (HUG). Beautifully written, and sadly...and I guess gladly...many parents will never have to know what it is like.

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  2. Cindy, this was such a powerful, poignant post. I think you should email this post, or an edited version of it, to your friends and family. Use this as another fundraising letter for your walk. This is moving stuff! This is why you want and need that cure!

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  3. Cindy, I wanted to order two hats for your fundraiser but I'm not sure how to go about it... let me know how to get you the info and the money. Thanks!

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  4. ((HUGS)) I totally get it. But just showing up to the walk...giving what you have to give, THAT makes a difference. Every dollar makes a difference. Every body at the walk makes a difference. You make a difference in our lives, just by being you. You are wonderful. :)

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  5. Joanne, send me an email at cindyroerig@hotmail.com. Let me know what colors you want, the ages the hats are intended for and your address and I'll make them up for you!

    Thanks, ladies! As much as all this sucks, it helps hearing from people who really do "totally get it"! You're all pretty awesome!

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  6. Some years we raise more money than other years. This year we did not raise much (you may have actually beat us!). But for us it's not so much the dollar amount, but showing up in support of our daughter and letting her be around other people who also have diabetes and care.

    You're doing what you can, and that's enough.

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  7. I agree with Leighann, It isn't always about the money. Although the money is important, but the support we get for our daughter is priceless.

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  8. I GET IT. You made me cry. Not that it is hard to do since our daughter's diagnosis a year and a half ago. We are walking in November and, with another family, have decided that this is a time to celebrate the courage and uniqueness of our daughters with and aside from their diabetes. They are both 4 years old, were diagnosed within a month of each other and have been amazing about all the CRAP that goes along with this disease. I hope that your funk has subsided (I know all us d-moms have better days and, well, not-so-better days) and that you are feeling more supported!

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  9. I know I wouldn't have "gotten it" before Ellie was diagnosed. For that I still feel bad. I just hope that Ellie meets and keeps people in her life that do get it and can support her as she grows.

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