7 years ago our world was turned upside down with the utterance of two little words... "She's diabetic".  

I had no idea what that truely meant; I didn't really understand then that it meant life support through insulin or that sugar could not only harm my child, but also serve as a life saver when she would drop low.  Drop low?  Run high?  Count carbs?  Shots?  a1C?  Medical ID?  Finger pokes?  Ketones?  DKA?  The list goes on and on.... I understood none of it at the time.  All I knew was that my precious, 14 month old daughter was in the PICU, hooked up to machines, so sick that she was unable to hold her head up on her own or even cry.  How had this happened?  Why did it happen?  Why her?  What was it that I missed that could've stopped this from happening?  There were no answers...

Exactly 3 weeks earlier, we were in the very same hospital, celebrating the birth of our youngest daughter.  Gracie was toddling around my hospital room, pacifier in her mouth, charming all the nurses and squealing with delight at her new baby.  She was tired though.  I just let her snuggle up with me in my hospital bed and rest.  That very night her daddy called saying that it looked like she's popped out with chicken pox.  Seriously?  She had just had the chicken pox vaccination 6 weeks earlier.  She's the only one of my daughters I allowed to have that vaccine.  Nearly a week later, the baby and I arrive back home.  We work hard at keeping Hannah safe from the chicken pox virus that could so easily cause her harm at the very beginning of her little life.  By the time Hannah is 2 weeks old, I take Gracie along to Hannah's 2 week well baby check.  I mention to the doctor that Gracie just doesn't seem to be bouncing back like I thought she should be.  She's just so tired still.  I'm assured that she's fine.  It's probably just her getting use to the new baby.  Over the next week I watch as my beautiful baby girl starts to decline; I know something is wrong but just can't pinpoint what.  Some things are explained away because of her age.  Things like all the water she was drinking because we thought she was just having fun with the new water bottles rather than her sippy cups.  Or the fact that we were changing her diaper every 30 minutes ... because of all the water she was drinking.  Or that she'd be playing just fine, then after half an hour or so, she would crash in the middle of the playroom floor and fall fast asleep.  In the early morning hours of September 21, 2005, I went in to check on my sweet baby and I just couldn't bring myself to let her sleep in her crib any longer.  There was a deep down instinct that said to keep her close, very close.  We layed together on the sofa; her on my chest.  I noticed that her breathing was shallow and she seemed as limp as a rag doll.  By 6:30 that morning, I just couldn't wait any longer.  I put her in her carseat and left for the doctor's office.  They opened at 7 and I was determined to be the first to be seen.  She wasn't doing well and I didn't know why.  When asked what I wanted her seen for, my answer was "I don't know, but something is very wrong."  The doctor checks her out.  Nothing.  For a lack of finding anything physically wrong, he runs some labs.  My sweet baby is too sick to fuss or cry as they draw her blood.  Then I wait.  It seems like forever.  She seems to be getting even more limp in my arms.  45 minutes later, the doctor comes back in and looks me in the eye and quietly says those two little words..."She's diabetic"

Tears start burning at my eyes and streaming down my cheeks.  Diabetic?  I don't understand.  But this much I know; I get to keep my baby girl, she's not going to die like I'd spent the last few hours fearing.  He tells me that the hospital is waiting for her and to get her there immediately.  I still don't understand fully the urgency in his voice.  I ask if I can stop at home on the way to pick up a few things for her, like her favorite blanket, a couple of bottles of her formula, and a change of clothes and diapers since she'd already soaked through the spares I'd had packed in her diaper bag there in the office.  We get to the hospital and they rush her through to get her hooked up to IV's and monitors.  She's so sick that they have to use her foot for the IV.  I hear a nurse mumble a blood sugar number... 1249.  That sounds high, but I have no idea what normal is suppose to be.  I watch as they poke, stick, and prod my baby girl.  I'm helpless to comfort her like I want to or to take her pain and fear away.  I wrap her as tightly as I can in her blankie and sit holding her hand and stroking her hair.

That evening, someone called a diabetes educator comes in to start "teaching" me how to take care of my baby.  Huh?  I'm a mom to 4 daughters; I think I know how to take care of my baby.  She has a bag that she gives me.  It's full of books, a box that says "Freestyle Blood Glucose Meter", Glucose tablets, a package of syringes, a tube of something called "glucose gel", a carb counts book, a blood sugar log book, along with an assortment of brochures and literature that all say the word DIABETES.   She explains that we now need to learn to give our baby shots and prick her fingers to test her blood sugar.  We need to know what the numbers mean and what to do if they are too high or too low.  We need to feed her only a certain amount of food, within a certain amount of time and on a strict schedule.  This is a baby girl... A BABY.  She still eats Gerber baby food and we were just introducing other foods.  She still drinks 3 bottles of formula a day to assure that she was getting the proper nutrients.  Next, enters the diatician.  Sure, we can introduce other foods that will fill her up with fewer carbs.  Snack?  Gold Fish or Cheerios.  Too many carbs?  How about a Nutrigrain bar?  I mean, let's be real here, this child doesn't even have all her teeth yet.  Seriously?  Only half a Nutrigrain bar?  Sugar Free Jell-O... I hope she likes it; she's not been a big fan of the wiggly stuff up to that point.  String cheese?  Sure, she loves that.  YOGURT!  Yes, she loves yogurt:)  Has to be fewer than 15 grams of carbs?  OK, no problem... I think.

And, so went that week in the PICU.  My days were spent learning how to keep my baby girl alive.  As she showed improvement and started feeling better, I started adjusting too.  I could do it.  I could keep her healthy.  I could give her 5-7 shots a day, poke her fingers every 2 hours, 24 hours a day, remember when to give her sugar to bring her up and when to give her extra insulin to bring her down... couldn't I?  But at home there's no nurses station across the hall.  At home, there's no button to push when I'm uncertain what to do.  At home there is no nurse to help give her a shot.  Dear God in Heaven!  I don't know if I can do this.  I'm not strong enough; I may not even be smart enough.

5 days later, it's time to go home.  It's time to face all this on our own. It was hard to believe that just 3 weeks earlier we were leaving that very same hospital with a newborn daughter; full of joy.  We buckle Gracie into her carseat.  I check to make sure the straps are right.  She giggles because it tickled.  I look into those big, blue eyes and see joy and the promise of life.  I kiss her and we head home.  Sisters and Grandmas  and even our dog were waiting.  Gracie is happy to be home, to laugh with her sisters and play with her dog.  But she's tired.  It's time for fresh pjs, a bedtime bottle... and now two shots.  Did I do it right?  Did I use the right dose?  I check on her every few minutes and when it's time for her first night time blood sugar check, she's low.  Not dangerously low, but too low to make it through the night safely.  I wake her up and feed her a spoon full of sugar.  It goes against my instinct as a mom.  No good mom feeds her child straight table sugar:(  Two hours later, she's too high.  I tell myself it's my fault.  I must of given her too much sugar to bring her up.  Fear grips my heart and doubt clouds my thoughts.  Can I really do this?  Can I be the mom that Gracie needs me to be?  Dear God, please calm my spirit and help me learn to be a good mom for Gracie.  Please help me get the knowledge and ability I need to keep her healthy....

Fast forward 7 years.  Gracie is healthy and strong.  She wears her Omnipod pump like it's part of her.  She is learning to take ownership of her own health along with how to take care of herself.  She touches the lives of everyone who comes across her path.  God is using her, even at her very young age, through her diabetes.  I've heard from others how she served as their inspiration during their own time of hardship or health crisis.  Gracie has learned that her life has no limits just because of her diabetes; she can be exactly who God created her to be and she can live a life full of joy even in the face of hardship.  Through Gracie's diabetes, God has brought our family closer, has made us realize just how fragile life is and how precious each day is as well.  We prioritize differently, we actively look for the blessings in each day, irregardless of what the day holds.  And, we cherish that beautiful smile of the strongest little girl we've ever known.  The precious little one that we get to claim as our own.  Gracie truely is our hero

September 21st... Gracie's "D-aversary"  The day each year that I hold her closer, hug her tighter and let my gaze linger longer when I see her smile.  Not all super heros wear capes... The strongest and bravest of them all wear an insulin pump and a medical ID.  And now, Super Gracie has her very own side-kick, Super Max, to help her fight diabetes each and every day.  They are a force to be wreckened with:)