“Don’t tell people I’m tired. It just sounds like a cop-out.”
I heard myself saying this today. I’ve thought those words scores of times, but never uttered them. Life as a MOD (Mom of a Diabetic) can be exhausting. Lost hours of sleep (and the domino effect from that), the emotional drain of mentally trying to make sense out of something which defies logic, the pressures we place upon ourselves to try and manage this unrelenting beast 24/7…it all adds up. Add to that all of life’s regular responsibilities (homeschooling, housekeeping, a job) while trying to keep another beast at bay, and you can feel on the verge of collapse.
I went to our Dexcom Clarity reports online to see if I could discern some patterns that would help me manage this more effectively. First–she’s 13, so I probably shouldn’t even try, honestly. Second–I know this is a manna life (relying upon God, continually looking to Him for the sustenance I need and for His provisions for Katie’s care). I know it in my head; but sometimes what we know becomes elusive because we can’t see through the mist of weariness to grab hold of truth.
I know I’m not the only mother who has been here, and Type 1 Diabetes is certainly not the only nemesis stalking worn out mothers worldwide. But when you are in the thick of things, it’s easy to feel profound battle fatigue and for your focus to turn inward. So I remind myself of truth.
My husband stated plainly, “Our job is to keep Katie alive, and so far I think we’re doing a pretty good job.” It’s a blessing to me to have his support and his no-nonsense perspective. He works so hard all week that I try to do my best to cover the night watches so he can get the rest he needs to keep on faithfully doing all he does for our family. Of course our “keeping your child alive” goes far beyond reminding her to look both ways before crossing the street. This involves walking a very precarious tight line, trying to calculate, every day, all day (and many nights), as best as we can, how much insulin to dose. Too much, or too little, can have dire–sometimes life-threatening–consequences. Trying to perform this task in the wee hours of dark-thirty in the morning can be daunting…trusting reason that can be clouded by sleep (or the lack thereof). I look at this graph (which layers all the days of this past week), and I see why I’m MOD Tired:
The red outline indicates four nights where a vigil was being kept because of highs needing to be corrected or lows requiring carbs. In each case you then wait to see if your treatment has the desired effect. It may, or it may not. What worked perfectly before may not work at all on this occasion, and somehow you need to reconcile yourself to it.
So the chart is validation in an odd sort of way…documented proof to substantiate my frame of mind.
I also know that both of our endocrinologists have congratulated us for doing so well with Katie’s management. Katie’s A1C is currently 7.9. Not stellar; but evidently (judging from the doctors’ reactions) it is remarkable, considering she’s navigating puberty and the accompanying and ever-changing recipe of hormonal soup (insulin is also a hormone).
Most importantly, I know that my High Priest, who ever lives to make intercession for me, knew what it was to be fatigued beyond anything I’ll ever experience. He understands what it means to try and press through inexplicable circumstances. I’m reminded again that I need to take this all to Him. It’s too much for me. There is wisdom in making time to “come apart”.
So I spill my heart out on this blog to perhaps encourage another Night Vigil Mama who needs to hear that someone else is on that same journey…and that Someone Else wants to keep her company, lighten the burden, share the road. This road is short. We’ll make it.