See three years ago, my daughter was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes. She had been sick for weeks, months even. It started by her losing weight. I didn't think much about it because she was getting taller, so I assumed the weight loss was a result of a growth spurt. Then she started drinking all the time. She couldn't seem to get enough water, tea, milk, juice. She would have to pee all the time, started wetting her bed at night. She hadn't had an accident in four years until then. She was humiliated and embarrassed. I was concerned, but didn't want to be one of those parents, the ones that has her kid in the doctors office just because she coughed.
But then she started getting tired all the time. She'd get cramps in her arms and legs, her rubs and collarbone was pressing through her skin. I knew I had to do something.
I took her to the doctor, and the first words out of his month was diabetes. We were scared because we knew our entire life was going to change in that moment. There was so much to learn, still so much for us to learn.
In three years, we've had our fair share of ups and downs, tears and fits. We've had three a.m. lows and five a.m. highs. We've felt helpless and triumphant, afraid and hopeful. We've struggled and celebrated.