Last night we had an EXTREMELY close call with Ayla, we were probably just moments away from a hypoglycemic seizure. Ayla has been very active lately and we've caught several 70-80's not bad, but no telling if she was rapidly dropping at the time. While cooking dinner she was VERY cranky but I figured she was hungry and dinner was almost done. I yelled to Dante to check her, he does and says she is 35! We grab a juice box and while she drinks that, look for another one. I asked her if she wants to eat her supper on my bed so I can watch her closely and apparently she tried to climb down and just dropped off her seat! We were expecting her to seize any moment, but check her blood again and the juice is already taking effect back up to 76.
I didn't sleep much. It gave me plenty of time to think about how much I really hate this disease. How am I ever gonna be able to let her grow up and take all this responsibility on herself? I don't really want her to have that burden of keeping herself alive 24 hours a day everyday. What about when she is sick, who will check her ketones while she vomits? What if she is really low, and weak and can't pyhsically get to some juice? What about marriage and children? I know she is only 3 years old, but these are the thoughts that plague me and haunt me especially at night when I'm alone.
Pam, one of our midwives called yesterday, to check on me and I broke down and cried. I'm still embarassed about that. I told her I think I'm depressed. That's the first time I admitted that to anyone, even myself. I just can't seem to shake the sadness. I find lot's of joy every day, so I can't be that bad off, eh? But it's the feeling of being overwhelmed, and the pain. I guess I'm still grieving our old life. This stinks, but I'm so very grateful for my family and that we are all still here. There is so much to be thankful for, I am grateful.