Don't Be A Boob

I'm not talking about diabetes today.

Today I'd like to discuss boobs. Because let's face it, boobs have Highs and Lows too. For me, today is a low boob day at least on the right side. The left one is pretty high.

You see, my husband believes that my body woes go hand in hand with my poor undergarment selection. That if I wore pretty underthings, maybe the rest of me would feel pretty too. (Good thought, honey, but not at all true.) So we went shopping on Sunday for new underthings. Ugh.

We spent about 2 hours looking at bras and then trying them on. There must have been 20 of them. Ugh. Its almost as bad as trying on bathing suits but at least in this case you get to leave your pants on. Did I mention that I hate trying stuff on?

I ended up with 4 nice bras - the polka dot, the baby doll, the swirly black thing and the cheeta-licious one. They have sat untouched in the Kohls bag since Sunday because the pants that I did not try on in the store (because I knew they would fit), didn't fit. And that pissed me off, so I didnt want to look in the bag at all after that. Ugh.

But today I busted them out (get it?). Ha ha.

I wore the baby doll bra today and I have been reminded time and time again today of how much I miss my frumpy, comfy bras. My right boob keeps falling out of the cup and wiggling all around in my shirt. The left one looks awesome though...go figure. I even made sure the bra matched the underwear I was wearing. Most days Im lucky if my shoes match, so this was really an amazing task for me this morning.

P.S.
I packed a frumpy, comfy bra in my lunch bag so that if things got out of hand today, I could change. This too was an amazing feat, since most days I can't even remember my lunch!

The Happy Place

I haven't written in a few days, and I missed it. A lot. Oddly enough, last week my mom gave me a journal that I kept during college. It was my whole freshman year...it was crazy looking back over those times. I have forgotten so many details of my life back then, but if you had asked me then I would have said I'd remember every moment. Not so. I didn't even remember the journal project for God's sake! And in the teacher's comment section she mentioned that I had a knack for journaling and should continue. Imagine that. It's taken 12 years...but maybe she was right.

Hannah-B had a visit to the endocrinologist yesterday. Typical visit. She talked more to him than normal, which was a pleasant surprise. We discussed dosages and HA1C levels (7.6) but nothing new. Then came the blood draw. Ugh. I always find myself feeling the same way when it gets to this part. A mixture of dread, anxiety and frustration. There must be an easier way...but they never seem to find an easier way before we get there for the next visit. So we muddle through exactly like we did 3 months before. I start out patient and understanding and end up feeling pissed off because she just can't sit still and get it over with. Then I feel guilty for not getting how much this sucks for her too. And how scary it must be and how brave she really is. And I realized yesterday that I forget that part a lot and I'm so sorry for that.

Since we are in spring break week, J&D came to pick the girls up after softball practice for a sleep-over. As the girlies were walking towards the car, I watched them and thought that they might just be the 2 most beautiful creatures I have ever seen. My love for them at that moment was overwhelming. I felt so satisified with my life right then that I wanted the world to stop so I could live in that moment forever.

It was the happiest I've been in a long time. And I needed to write it down so that the next time I think nothing is going my way, I can look back and see those words and know that happiness does exist within me. I just don't always know where to look.

A Defining Moment

I have said all along that I will not allow diabetes to define Hannah. I do not want it to be the first thing people think of when they think of her. I want them to see beyond that. To see her outrageous smile and her quirky sense of humor. I want them to know how wise and wild she is.

I have worked hard to keep her disease from being at the forefront of her life, so that she doesn't have to focus on it either. But it's hard work keeping all of that in the background. It's like I'm the prop guy in a low buget movie running around trying to keep up appearances on the set. Make it look natural. Make it look easy. So that people look past the diabetes drama and love the Hannah I love.

But you know what? The Hannah I love DOES have diabetes. It IS a part of her definition and I think my biggest struggle is in coming to grips with that. Accepting it - even after 3 years - is not an easy thing. Why am I putting this pressure on myself to create the illusion of a life without diabetes when it is such a huge part of who we are?

My First Day

My daughter has Type 1 diabetes. So does my husband. I know the in's and out's of it. I know the science of it. What I don't know is how to come to terms with it. Is that even possible? I need a place of my own to think and ponder and even complain. And since home isn't usually quiet enough to think, I thought maybe I'd 'think' on my lunch hour. A journal wouldn't work for me. I would constantly be critiquing my handwriting and trying to find a place to hide the book. A therapist would work, but the co-pays would get out of hand. The support group thing is ok, but I really only want to talk about me and so I've decided to find another outlet.

OK. I went to our diabetes support group on Saturday. Hannah-B went with me even though she resisted. She complained most of the day about being there. I loved it. 4 months ago I couldn't have imagined myself sitting there with a group of strangers taking about diabetes, but now I'm hooked. They get it. They get how much this sucks. But I realized that I am sort-of an anomoly there. I am the only one whose spouse is also diabetic. I have some different issues at my house to deal with. But for the most part, they understand.

We talked about needing to 'feel' the frustration of diabetes. Let yourself be angry. Let yourself cry. And I realized that I don't do that enough. I feel like I can't, to be honest. I think if I did I would never be able to move forward because it would consume me. I would let them all down. I would make Dan feel guilty. I would look weak. Like I can't handle it...I told them on Saturday, 'I can't feel it, because I have to do it'. I have to live with it - everyday. Think it's tiring to keep my kid overnight? Try doing it the 364 other days of the year. It's hard. Harder than I ever thought it would be. Try making it all seem 'normal' for her when it is so not normal. Try acting like you aren't scared to death that one night the planets will align against you, and both of them will have an insulin reaction at the same time. Who do you help first? Or that you don't spend countless nights worrying about how many times Tessie pee'd today and how much juice she drank at dinner and what if - oh God - she got it too? I can't begin to imagine the amount of tranquilizers I would need to take. These are just some of my worries.

In fact, I worry all the time. And though it is in my nature to overthink things, I blame this disease for my heightened sense of anxiety. It started long ago with Dan, back in 1998. The morning I had to call 911 because he wouldnt wake up. It became real that day, the idea that this disease could take him away. There have been plenty of other days with Dan that have shaken me to the core, days I don't even like to remember. But I know that morning - his 1st Father's Day - when he wouldnt wake up, changed me forever. It made me pull away just a little bit. So that if something bad did happen, just maybe it wouldn't hurt so much. And in some way, I know I've done that with Hannah and I fight it because I know it is so wrong but I can't help it. It's like self-preservation for me. Guarding against the 'what-if's'. But it also causes me not to live fully and freely and I hate that about myself.