The year started out like a pretty standard new year. I had my 1st prenatal check up (which was an absolute clusterfuck because the idiot who made my appointment somehow mistook "prenatal" for "annual exam" and they had to squeeze in my viability ultrasound between several other appointments...but I digress). Everything there was fine, baby is right where we thought it was (and yes, I call baby "it". Lay off me.) and has a heartbeat and all that good stuff.
3 days later was a hard day for my family. Bug, my oldest, had been peeing constantly and even wetting his bed for the 1st time in 3 years. I was immediately concerned, and I had a pretty good idea as to what it was. Daddy took him to see his doctor Friday and my suspicions were confirmed; Bug has diabetes. I was good, I was hanging in there, I was cool as a cucumber. And then Bug wanted to talk to me. He needed his Mama. As soon as he came on the phone I lost it. He was so scared and so sad, and all he could muster to say was that he couldn't eat anymore sugar. Trying to tell a 4-year-old over the phone that everything is going to be ok is not an easy feat. I left work and joined them for the remaining doctors appointments that day. The last week has been a whirlwind, with blood-sugar testing and insulin injections and doctor's appointments. My 4-year-old has proven to be much more stable than his mother, because he is handling this better than anyone could have expected. I, on the other hand, cry like a baby anytime anyone asks me how we're doing.
We're doing ok, as ok as I can expect us to be doing. Someday we will be fine and someday after that we will be great. But today? Today we are just ok. I could really use a