New Normal The Breakfast Edition
Shortly after Tony the Tiger finishes telling us “it’s grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreat” an announcer’s voice reminds us that “Frosted Flakes are part of a balanced breakfast.” I’ve always found that amusing, part of breakfast? Not at my house. The bowl of cereal, the poptart, the nutrigrain bar is breakfast in its entirety. I grew up that way, and alas many mornings so have my children.
Until now.
One of the things about having a child with type one diabetes is that food management becomes very important. The better she maintains a healthy diet, the better her overall health. We are three weeks post-diagnosis and I am becoming a pro at carb counting, so is little one. Our challenge on most days is getting enough carbohydrates in her diet. Breakfast is especially challenging. One bowl of cereal-not enough carbs and not a balanced breakfast meal (balanced is for the record-two breads, one fat, two fruits and a milk) . So, Tony was right. Part of a balanced breakfast-now I get it!
The first days and weeks have been consumed with the details. Learning about food, learning about medication, educating the school, and bringing myself up to speed. It has been busy-mentally, physically, and emotionally. There has not been a lot of time for contemplation, but that’s the norm for parenting anyway isn’t it? We live each day carpooling, homeworking, feeding, bathing, clothing. We tuck them in and wake them up and occasionally get to stop and say wow, it’s halloween already, where do the days go? It’s only when things go really well, or fall apart, that we stop and think about life with our children and what it really means to have little ones walking around in the world carrying our heart with them.
Today we had our first post-diagnosis doctor’s appointment. The doc came in and she talked. She talked and talked and talked and talked and talked. There were charts and graphs and numbers and information, and it all boiled down to one thing: My little one has type one diabetes. As she talked and talked and talked all I could think was Oh please please please shut up. Just. Shut. Up. Because with every word she spoke I suddenly heard my brain announcing See, see this is real. I didn’t want to hear her talk about sugar levels, I wanted her to say Oh, good news, we made a mistake. Your little girl is fine, so go home now. I wanted my own little miracle.
I didn’t get it. What I got was good news-she’s doing fine. As well as can be expected at week three. She’s a healthy, smart, funny, happy little girl. So I took that news to the parking lot , and after sending little one on her way with her dad, I sat there and cried. I cried and cried and cried as much as the doc had talked and talked and talked. Then I stopped and drove home.
I guess that ’s the way it is going to be from now on so I’d better learn to listen.
I need to hear the good news-she’s doing fine
and I need to understand that that in itself is my own little miracle.
Every day any of us have with our children is just that-a miracle. A gift.
Not to be squandered.
That makes it all grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrreat.
