Dear Max,
Today marks four years since you were diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, a condition where your pancreas no longer produces insulin. I still remember the first signs—the slight weight loss that made my heart race. Just a pound, but it was enough for me to seek answers. I fought for you, believing something was wrong. Four-year-olds should be full of energy, not fatigued.
After numerous tests came back normal, the unquenchable thirst appeared. I can still recall the pediatrician’s expression when the finger prick revealed a staggering 568. You were just a small child, and within a couple of hours, we were meeting with the endocrinologist. Suddenly, I was handed the responsibility of managing your care. They explained that without sufficient insulin, your body would start breaking down fat for energy. If left untreated, the outcomes could have been dire. They told us you would need insulin for the rest of your life.
That first night, I gave you insulin injections and checked your blood sugar with shaky hands. You never complained or shed a tear. It was overwhelming—too much insulin could be fatal, but too little was just as dangerous. We quickly learned the language of type 1 diabetes: carb counting, insulin ratios, and how to adapt based on exercise, illness, and growth.
In an instant, type 1 became a permanent fixture in our lives, threatening to create chaos. Yet, we have learned to manage it, and you are flourishing. This challenge will always be present, but we are determined to face it together.
For four years now, I have carried you to my room every night. It took you months to finally ask, “How do I end up here every night?” I explained that I bring you close so I can monitor your blood sugar levels and listen to you breathe. Just last night, I struggled to lift you out of bed—you’re almost eighty pounds now. I know the day is coming when I won’t be able to carry you anymore.
What will I do then? Will I ever allow you to sleep alone? The one night I let you sleep in your room, I missed the alarm signaling a low blood sugar. You didn’t wake up at all. They call it hypoglycemic unawareness. Had I not woken up to use the restroom, it could have ended tragically.
There are countless type 1 warriors leading fulfilling lives, and I never want you to use this illness as an excuse. However, always be aware of its potential dangers. This disease isn’t a death sentence, but it comes with its risks. We can be vigilant 99% of the time, but that one untreated low or high could have severe consequences. Mindfulness is key.
Max, I admire your bravery. I know it’s challenging to be so young and different—sometimes not being able to enjoy the same foods as others, remembering to carry your supplies, turning off your pump before exercising, and calculating your insulin doses accurately. I strive to manage this for you, but ultimately, you will need to take charge of your own health. I believe in your ability to do so.
Two years ago, when Grandpa passed away and your dad and I had to travel to El Salvador for the funeral, your pump malfunctioned. Panic set in, but your grandmas tried their best. Eventually, we ended up at the hospital where a nurse, an angel in disguise, helped. Last month, when your pump failed again, you guided our friend through changing it step by step. I was filled with pride watching your resilience and strength.
I’ll be honest, Max, sometimes I wonder if I caused this. Was it something I ate or didn’t eat? Was it the dental work I had during pregnancy? With the pandemic, I question whether I’m making the right choices by keeping you at home. Your health has always been delicate, but will isolation impact your mental well-being? My lawyer’s mind constantly weighs the risks and benefits, but I know that doubt won’t help us move forward.
So, Max, continue to show strength as you grow. Don’t let resentment take hold. There are many who face far worse challenges than you do. Remember, you have access to resources that many children around the world with diabetes do not. Be grateful for the amazing support system of friends, family, teachers, doctors, and nurses around you. Show appreciation to them, and always remember to advocate for yourself. Educate others about this illness and its various costs—physical, mental, emotional, and financial. And always keep in mind that 1.6 million Americans share this journey with you. You are never alone.
I genuinely believe you can conquer this if you put your mind to it. I can picture you and your siblings studying together in your future dorm rooms, tackling biochemistry. You’ve got this, and you can achieve anything you set your mind to.
With all my love,
Mom
Search Queries:
- How to manage type 1 diabetes in children?
- Support for parents of children with type 1 diabetes.
- Living with type 1 diabetes challenges.
- Tips for kids with diabetes at school.
- Understanding diabetes management for kids.
Summary:
This heartfelt letter from a mother to her son, Max, reflects on their journey since his diagnosis with type 1 diabetes. She expresses her love, concern, and admiration for his bravery in managing the condition. The letter emphasizes the importance of awareness, resilience, and gratitude towards their support system. The mother also encourages her son to take charge of his health and to recognize the shared experiences of others living with diabetes.