The Good, The Bad, and the Poetic

This is a picture of Sophie and I at a birthday party on Saturday. A lot has happened in the last few days. It feels like it's been a lifetime, yet, it still feels like anytime now, I'm going to wake up from this nightmare.

First: The Good

Some of the sweet things we've seen in the last few days:

Norah playing peek-a-boo with PaPa and laughing hysterically at him.

Sophie has started to prick her own finger for her sugar tests.

Jossie rubbing Sophie's back when she was crying during a blood test, and then laughing when Sophie tooted, and saying, "OH! I must have rubbed it out of you!"

Norah singing "PaPa, PaPa, PaPa" as I'm trying to rock her to sleep.

Friends bringing meals...that really takes a load off at the end of the day.

Sophie singing ABC's to distract herself during a shot.

The nurses and helpers at the clinic are so impressed with Sophie's fast progress and her taking initiative in her own care so early on.

The girls' laughter at PaPa moving his scalp without touching it.

The touching words of encouragement and countless prayers from our dear ones.

Family members taking care of us and carrying us.

The Bad

Diabetes Sucks! I truly hate it. I know I should be thankful that it's something manageable, and she can live a mostly normal life, and blah, blah, blah. But, seriously...it's awful. To say it's life changing is such an understatement.

Our education has been for 2 days, learning the in's and out's of shots and balancing carbs, and when to be alarmed, and "oh by the way, you shouldn't need this, but here's a special shot for if she's ever so low that she's having a seizure or is passed out and you can't revive her. Just shoot it into her leg, and she might throw up, and it might be the longest 10 minutes of your life waiting for her to come to, and you might need EMSA, but don't lose sleep over this stuff, and certainly don't wake her up in the middle of the night to check and make sure she's not too low...that's just silly." OK, maybe it wan't that cold, but it felt that awful to listen to.

I think our low point has hit us as we've watched the fear and sadness come over Sophia. I nearly screamed at the phlebotomist as she was scolding Sophie for screaming in fear of the needle she was about to draw blood with. I kept saying to her, "she's really been through a lot in the past two days," and when she finally saw she'd had other recent pokes, she said, "Oh, have you been in the hospital? Well, no wonder you're upset." But, come on now, who scolds a child for being so afraid of the needle. Does that ever help??!! On top of that, making her scream over every shot has been heart-wrenching. She's slowly getting better, but it made me sick to learn yesterday that every snack she has during the day doesn't fall under the meal-time insulin, it instead gets it's own injection if it's over 5 carbs. So, if she wants more than 12 goldfish, she gets a shot. So, with food scale in hand, I get to weigh and measure, and think about, write down, analyze, and give insulin for, every single morsel.

The sadness was overwhelming this morning as I lay in bed (not sleeping anyway) and listened to Sophia screaming in her sleep, "NO! No! Don't prick my finger. No! I don't want a shot!" I just grieve for the loss of her simple life and simple childhood. Just the other day she said, "there are so many good things in this world," and I wonder if she'll keep that belief through this all. And it may be that God will use this for great things some day, but honestly, I just feel a bit robbed right now, and I feel Sophie is robbed. And the "someday things will be better" thoughts just aren't helping right now. It's just sad. Period.

And, I can't help but wonder how my other kids will fare through this all. Jossie has had potty accidents of both kinds...totally not like her. They both are so clingy and cranky, it's not even funny. How do you balance out your time and attention, when so much of your time is going to one child?

I know we'll all get better eventually, but I won't put on a fake smile and say, "Oh, it's all OK" right now. It's hard not to question God in it all. Yet, I don't want to try to go through this without Him.

The Poetic

From "The Magician's Nephew" by, C.S. Lewis

[Aslan asks Digory a question] "Yes," said Digory. He had had for a second some wild idea of saying "I'll try to help you if you'll promise to help my Mother," but he realized in time that the Lion was not at all the sort of person one could try to make bargains with. But when he had said "yes," he thought of his Mother, and he thought of the great hopes he had had, and how they were all dying away, and a lump came in his throat and tears in his eyes, and he blurted out: "But please, please--won't you--can't you give me something that will cure Mother?" Up till then he had been looking at the Lion's great feet and the huge claws on them; now , in his despair, he looked up at it's face. What he saw surprised him as much as anything in his whole life. For the tawny face was bent down near his own and (wonder of wonders) great shining tears stood in the Lion's eyes. They were such big, bright tears compared with Digory's own that for a moment he felt as if the Lion must really be sorrier about his Mother than he was himself.