We found out that Adriana has a hernia and will most likely need surgery. This is not uncommon in preemies, but usually shows up within the first year, her doctor said. It is the beginning of one, so I hope that the surgeon will say that it can wait until after school is out.
Adriana is understandebly scared. Mama is scared, also. As I have heard Bruce say before it's only minor surgery when it's not being done to you or in this case, your child.
I am sure she will be fine. I will take her this week to meet with the surgeon, so we will know more then. I googled the surgeon's name, or at least he is the one her doctor mentioned, and he was a pioneer with a pretty significant procedure, so I feel a little better. I think he knows what he is doing.
Please pray for her and us as she goes through this.
Also, I go to the first class this week regarding Cara's pump. We have to go to three classes before she gets it. They are going to be reteaching us about carb counts and such along with teaching us how to use the pump.
This means two trips about 90 minutes to an hour and 45 minutes away each time. I wonder how many Starbucks I will need along the way?
Saturday, February 20, 2010
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Cool Kids' cute sayings
Time for another round of Cool Kids' cute sayings.
Last night, I was on a tirade telling Cara and Jonah that the toys on the den floor needed to be picked up or they would be taken to the local thrift store in the morning. I went and got a trash bag to demonstrate how serious I was. Jonah was in a panic and started crying. Cara said something about breaking their hearts.
"Our hearts are breakables," Jonah said. "And, you are breaking our hearts."
Last night, I was on a tirade telling Cara and Jonah that the toys on the den floor needed to be picked up or they would be taken to the local thrift store in the morning. I went and got a trash bag to demonstrate how serious I was. Jonah was in a panic and started crying. Cara said something about breaking their hearts.
"Our hearts are breakables," Jonah said. "And, you are breaking our hearts."
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Part of my absence
I want to explain part of my absence over Thanksgiving and Christmas. You know, aside from the let's all run at a frenzy pace and forget the true meaning of Christmas hubabaloo that surrounds the holidays.
Yes, Thanksgiving and Christmas were hectic. Yes, we had some special times as a family and I will get back to blogging about them in a day or two.
Right now, I want to spend a little time sharing my thoughts over these last eight months or so. (By the way, did you know that Thanksgiving marked six months since Cara's diagnosis?) You know, right about the time a little thing called Type 1 diabetes entered our lives and permanently changed everything. At least, until a cure is found. I am not giving up hope.
If you want to click off or by pass this because you don't want to hear my whining about diabetes, then feel free. I won't be offended. Really, I won't.
The only way to describe what I have gone through these past few months is grieving. I hesitate to use that word because I know it is sacred to some who have truly experienced the worst kind of grief and feel that others cannot truly understand what they are going through. I do not want to compare myself to those who have lost children at all. I am so very grateful that all three of mine are here on earth with me. I am so very grateful that they overall are relatively healthy.
However, I have grieved this past year. A lot. More than I thought I would.
Every time a new season has come up, I have grieved. Every time we have done something special as a family, I have grieved. I have grieved for a little girl's life that is forever altered. I have grieved for my other children who sometimes have to take a backseat to her needs when they don't quite understand.
I have grieved when I have had to tell her "no" to a favorite snack when her number is high. Her tears of frustration have not made that any easier, either. I have grieved when her number plummets on a dime and we have to stop everything to get something in her quickly.
I have grieved when we have gone somewhere special like Hershey or the Dixie Stampede and we have to micromanage her meals.
I had an especially difficult time at Wal-Mart right before Christmas. (Okay, normally I have a difficult time at Wal-Mart, but that is usually when all three of mine are with me.) I was having a hard time this particular day because I was trying to find sugar free candy canes that I bought there the year before. Come to find out, they didn't carry them this year. Of course not. The year we really needed them. While I was in there, I noticed all the rows and rows of baking and cookie supplies they had set up for Christmas goodies and meals. I wanted to cry. "It" hit me then like it has so many other times. Cara will never be able to eat herself silly on Christmas goodies and things like mashed potatoes, dressing and pies galore.
I couldn't bring myself to do some of things I normally like to do with them this year. Baking cookies, out. (Well, we did try a low-sugar cookie, but they didn't turn out.) Decorating a gingerbread house? Cara, make sure you don't eat any of the candies. Christmas parties? Here, Cara, you can have three chips, half a sandwich and one bite of a cookie. (Okay, maybe that is exaggeratting, but not too far from the truth.)
Her blood sugar was doing whacky things, too, in spite of our best efforts. I think I have explained the honeymoon phase here, but I am not sure. Basically, a Type 1 diabetic's pancreas still produces a little bit of insulin after diagnosis. Eventually, though, the pancreas shuts production down all together and the insulin injections have to be increased.
We were dealing with that somewhat during December. During a busy month with lots of food.
So, I became depressed. Very depressed. I am not sure even those closest to me realized how depressed I was. I have spent the past eight months or so in and out of depression. Some of this is normal. As my oldest brother has so eloquently said, "Mental illness doesn't run in our family. It gallops."
I dealt with it all throughout the holidays.
I tried to hold onto a conversation I had with God this summer while on vacation. As someone wise once said, I have never heard God speak in an audible voice, but he has spoken louder than anyone I have ever heard.
While we were returning home from Pennsylvania, I was going through a laundry list in my mind of everything that we have done right in raising our children. You know, the things that you are supposed to do so your children are healthy and lead quality lives?
Lord, look what did we do wrong? Great prenatal care? Check! Follow our pediatrician's advice? Check! Breastfed? For a year? Check! (Okay, that little bit may have been more than you wanted to know.) Not make food an issue? Check! Limit candy? Check! Limit sweets? Check! Try to offer a balanced diet? Check!
Okay, Lord, so what did we do wrong? We did everything that we were supposed to do and she still got diabetes. Tell me, Lord, why?
And, then the still, small voice came and said, "Vonda, remember the man born blind? Remember the disciples and their questionning?"
And, then this came to me...
John 9:1-3 (New International Version)
John 9
Jesus Heals a Man Born Blind
1As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?"
3"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life."
So the work of God might be displayed in her life. I have tried to hold onto that since then. I have. I am still trying.
When we sit in a doctor's office for almost four hours trying to convince her to get an insulin pump. (She finally agreed and we are just waiting for our classes to get it.)
When well meaning strangers and even aquantainces say something to the effect of, "Well, she'll just get her diet under control and everything will be okay." (Do you want to know how many times I have had to bite my tongue over that one? By the way, Type 1s cannot control their diabetes with diet alone. Insulin is their lifeline.)
When her numbers are up and I try to remember what the dietician told us, this is a marathon, not a sprint.
When we have to deny her something she really wants because we want her to have all her toes when she is an adult.
When she cries because she has to have insulin and has to have another "little poke".
When I read an article about strangers helping others by giving them a kidney. I was thinking, "Hey, that's neat, I might do something like that. No, wait, I better hold onto my kidneys, because Cara might need them one day."
I try to hold onto the promise that this is so others can see the work of God in Cara's life. In our family's life. In my life.
I already know how it has changed me. As I said in church one Sunday, I am not sure I will ever say I am grateful that Cara has diabetes, but I am grateful it is only diabetes (not to minimize it and the complications from it).
I see how it is changing the rest of my family. Some for the good. Mostly for good. Like when Adriana and Cara quit fighting (like sisters do) the day she was diagnosed and were walking in the hospital corridor hand in hand. Or when Jonah tries to show her sympathy, too.
I try to remind myself that this is for God's glory. Some way, some how, he will make this good.
Yes, Thanksgiving and Christmas were hectic. Yes, we had some special times as a family and I will get back to blogging about them in a day or two.
Right now, I want to spend a little time sharing my thoughts over these last eight months or so. (By the way, did you know that Thanksgiving marked six months since Cara's diagnosis?) You know, right about the time a little thing called Type 1 diabetes entered our lives and permanently changed everything. At least, until a cure is found. I am not giving up hope.
If you want to click off or by pass this because you don't want to hear my whining about diabetes, then feel free. I won't be offended. Really, I won't.
The only way to describe what I have gone through these past few months is grieving. I hesitate to use that word because I know it is sacred to some who have truly experienced the worst kind of grief and feel that others cannot truly understand what they are going through. I do not want to compare myself to those who have lost children at all. I am so very grateful that all three of mine are here on earth with me. I am so very grateful that they overall are relatively healthy.
However, I have grieved this past year. A lot. More than I thought I would.
Every time a new season has come up, I have grieved. Every time we have done something special as a family, I have grieved. I have grieved for a little girl's life that is forever altered. I have grieved for my other children who sometimes have to take a backseat to her needs when they don't quite understand.
I have grieved when I have had to tell her "no" to a favorite snack when her number is high. Her tears of frustration have not made that any easier, either. I have grieved when her number plummets on a dime and we have to stop everything to get something in her quickly.
I have grieved when we have gone somewhere special like Hershey or the Dixie Stampede and we have to micromanage her meals.
I had an especially difficult time at Wal-Mart right before Christmas. (Okay, normally I have a difficult time at Wal-Mart, but that is usually when all three of mine are with me.) I was having a hard time this particular day because I was trying to find sugar free candy canes that I bought there the year before. Come to find out, they didn't carry them this year. Of course not. The year we really needed them. While I was in there, I noticed all the rows and rows of baking and cookie supplies they had set up for Christmas goodies and meals. I wanted to cry. "It" hit me then like it has so many other times. Cara will never be able to eat herself silly on Christmas goodies and things like mashed potatoes, dressing and pies galore.
I couldn't bring myself to do some of things I normally like to do with them this year. Baking cookies, out. (Well, we did try a low-sugar cookie, but they didn't turn out.) Decorating a gingerbread house? Cara, make sure you don't eat any of the candies. Christmas parties? Here, Cara, you can have three chips, half a sandwich and one bite of a cookie. (Okay, maybe that is exaggeratting, but not too far from the truth.)
Her blood sugar was doing whacky things, too, in spite of our best efforts. I think I have explained the honeymoon phase here, but I am not sure. Basically, a Type 1 diabetic's pancreas still produces a little bit of insulin after diagnosis. Eventually, though, the pancreas shuts production down all together and the insulin injections have to be increased.
We were dealing with that somewhat during December. During a busy month with lots of food.
So, I became depressed. Very depressed. I am not sure even those closest to me realized how depressed I was. I have spent the past eight months or so in and out of depression. Some of this is normal. As my oldest brother has so eloquently said, "Mental illness doesn't run in our family. It gallops."
I dealt with it all throughout the holidays.
I tried to hold onto a conversation I had with God this summer while on vacation. As someone wise once said, I have never heard God speak in an audible voice, but he has spoken louder than anyone I have ever heard.
While we were returning home from Pennsylvania, I was going through a laundry list in my mind of everything that we have done right in raising our children. You know, the things that you are supposed to do so your children are healthy and lead quality lives?
Lord, look what did we do wrong? Great prenatal care? Check! Follow our pediatrician's advice? Check! Breastfed? For a year? Check! (Okay, that little bit may have been more than you wanted to know.) Not make food an issue? Check! Limit candy? Check! Limit sweets? Check! Try to offer a balanced diet? Check!
Okay, Lord, so what did we do wrong? We did everything that we were supposed to do and she still got diabetes. Tell me, Lord, why?
And, then the still, small voice came and said, "Vonda, remember the man born blind? Remember the disciples and their questionning?"
And, then this came to me...
John 9:1-3 (New International Version)
John 9
Jesus Heals a Man Born Blind
1As he went along, he saw a man blind from birth. 2His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?"
3"Neither this man nor his parents sinned," said Jesus, "but this happened so that the work of God might be displayed in his life."
So the work of God might be displayed in her life. I have tried to hold onto that since then. I have. I am still trying.
When we sit in a doctor's office for almost four hours trying to convince her to get an insulin pump. (She finally agreed and we are just waiting for our classes to get it.)
When well meaning strangers and even aquantainces say something to the effect of, "Well, she'll just get her diet under control and everything will be okay." (Do you want to know how many times I have had to bite my tongue over that one? By the way, Type 1s cannot control their diabetes with diet alone. Insulin is their lifeline.)
When her numbers are up and I try to remember what the dietician told us, this is a marathon, not a sprint.
When we have to deny her something she really wants because we want her to have all her toes when she is an adult.
When she cries because she has to have insulin and has to have another "little poke".
When I read an article about strangers helping others by giving them a kidney. I was thinking, "Hey, that's neat, I might do something like that. No, wait, I better hold onto my kidneys, because Cara might need them one day."
I try to hold onto the promise that this is so others can see the work of God in Cara's life. In our family's life. In my life.
I already know how it has changed me. As I said in church one Sunday, I am not sure I will ever say I am grateful that Cara has diabetes, but I am grateful it is only diabetes (not to minimize it and the complications from it).
I see how it is changing the rest of my family. Some for the good. Mostly for good. Like when Adriana and Cara quit fighting (like sisters do) the day she was diagnosed and were walking in the hospital corridor hand in hand. Or when Jonah tries to show her sympathy, too.
I try to remind myself that this is for God's glory. Some way, some how, he will make this good.
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