Today: "I can..."
The arrow turned quickly. From everything was hunky-dory to a straight down arrow meaning that it was headed to the toilet. That's how fast our life turns on a pin and in seconds. The arrow has become part of our lives. They jump out at me now. That arrow means to exit the highway, but my mind see blood glucose rising. This arrow means "one way"; I read that all is steady and good. It's kind of like when you are pregnant: everyone is pregnant. When your life is governed by a continuous glucose monitor, you see arrows everywhere.
I still fight to stop the ice water dumping into my veins when I see that down arrow, or worse yet and thankfully rare right now, a double down. It has been over a year since I can see a continuous readout of how we are doing, and I am learning. I am learning to calm down. (I need the t-shirt: Calm Down and Eat Carbs.) I am learning that though I am at any moment subject to an emergency, that I can handle it and better yet, so can he. "I'm fine, Mom," he'll say. I pace.
Reading online about the experiences of others and with my experiences, I've figured out that William and I have this. It's still scary sometimes, some shake-your-head moments, and I'm still dead tired but I can do this. I can.