Life in pictures

Once upon a time, I was a geography student. And one of my professors talked about how tourists like to frame reality the way they want to see it. We take photos that avoid the garbage lying on the ground near the pyramids, we take the picture of the pyramid.

I've been framing a few photos today, and there is one that I really like. It was done this spring and dd and I are hugging each other. The only thing is that since I am holding dd, my medic alert bracelet hangs down from my wrist. It's really obvious because it is in the centre of the photo.

So I have not framed this photo. In fact, I didn't even enlarge it, even though it's one of my favourites. And no, I can't crop it.

Why should I want to crop it? Why should I want to avoid it? What's so wrong and ugly about this bracelet? If it were any other bracelet, it would just be something that I was wearing, right?

I suppose that I am still trying to edit diabetes from my relationship with dd. In some ways, it's an integral part of that relationship. Goodness, we did go to run a marathon in Iceland for the Diabetes Association this summer...and spend a year fundraising for it. And she is certainly aware that I must stop and test, stop and eat, stop and count my carbs.

But my attitude has been that life is normal, life continues as normal with slight modifications that may continue to be modified over time, as needed.

And perhaps my bracelet is too much of a reminder of the harder side of normal. The thing that I don't want hanging between us.

Not quite perfect

I'm relishing imperfection today. Or rather, I am having a lot of it so I may as well enjoy it.

My pump site failed after dinner and I didn't realize it before I went swimming, hence the late bedtime for me tonight. New site, extra insulin shot, blood sugar crashing down, more jellybeans, go to bed with fingers crossed and sensor on.

After swimming but before site change, I took out the little felted animals, plants, and gnomes I am making for an advent calendar winter scene. As I am also coordinating the measuring of a giant diabetes ribbon and helping with a large human rights event that involves 60 children and working and helping at the preschool and trying to write some articles and ... I should be felting gnomes, right?

My gnomes are pretty feeble, but you know, I don't care. I think that this attitude is starting to catch up to me in some areas of my life, but in general I do a fairly decent job at most things.

I think that parenting and having diabetes have taught me the value of good enough. For years I did not feel good enough for anything, even though I excelled at most things I did. Now I excel at few things I do, but I feel a lot better about them. Other people will forgive me. I'll forgive myself. I'm glad. Even if my gnomes are pretty lousy.

Oh, dear...

We visited the in-laws for dinner the other night, and MIL mentioned that someone dh knows had "come down with" type 1 diabetes in his twenties. And that his child has also developed it.

Full stop.

Where do I go from there, then?

Honestly...and this is totally a personal choice, but had I developed type 1 before I had a child, I would have pushed dh to adopt. I have always wanted to adopt anyway, and that would have been the final straw. While it's nifty to see our genes expressed in a child, I am more interested in being a parent than I am in being a biological parent.

Now I know that women with type 1 who have a child in their late twenties have a fairly low statistical likelihood of having a child who develops type 1. It seems to be more strongly inherited from the male line (it is in my case). But nonetheless, knowing that I have some rocking genes and some awful ones...the awful ones would nix the idea of biological reproduction for me.

I'm rarely a worrier, but I'm sure that one of the worst fears of any parent with diabetes is to have a child with the same disorder, to pass your junk on to the next generation. The guilt. Yes, life with diabetes is certainly worth living, but life without diabetes has a lot more pizza and worry-free nights.

So why the comment by MIL? An out of the blue fact? A fear? I don't know. But I can't stand being reminded that I have a crappy disease and that I could have passed it on to my kid.

There's a lot of fear that goes with diabetes, and although I tend to piddle through life trying to ignore it, sometimes I think that people think that means that there is no fear. That a cure is just around the corner, and that I can do whatever I'd like without thinking and without worry. I certainly don't want to milk my diabetes, but sometimes living well with it can make it seem like something minimal, something that would be easy for a child to have.

And it's not easy. It's real life for a lot of people, but that doesn't make it easy.

Hey, at least dd didn't get my flat feet with pre-made bunions. Sigh.