Different

When I called Mimi from the hospital that Sunday morning to tell her Saul’s diagnosis she said “Courtney, don’t you treat that boy any different now, you treat him just like you did before… don’t go spoiling him just cause he’s sick.” I sincerely agreed and promised I would do my best.

Saul turned 18 months two days ago. A whole year and a half old. The definitive mark of “toddlerhood.” The time when I start explaining his age in years instead of months. The stage of potty-training.  The start of terrible twos. Physically, mentally and emotionally he is no longer a baby.

I guess it all started about a week ago. Tired of getting up 5 and 6 times throughout the night I started picking Saul up out of his crib and putting him in bed with me.  My early morning fog brain was operating at its most simplistic level and thinking through the long term consequences of my actions at the moment was not on the register.

[numbers ok. must get sleep. stick bop bop (paci) in mouth. must get sleep. sure climb on top of me and close your eyes. must get sleep. must get sleep.]

That was Monday night, then Tuesday… then Wednesday… then Thursday… and as I lay in bed last night with a 20+ lb little boy on my chest I realized… ummm…. this is not good.

I decided last night I wasn’t going to cave. I was going to stand strong. Let him CIO. And that worked the first time… and the second… and then I failed. I kept thinking what would that crazy English nanny say to me right now in the midst of my weakness? I tried pumping myself up… “You can do it… Courtney… you can do it… just put your earplugs in.”

But as I lay there listening to him wail and do the death-scream-cry at the top of his lungs… I kept thinking…. What if it’s his numbers? Did I give him too much insulin? What if his lantus isn’t working? Is he too high?

Fortunately (or maybe “un” in my case – in terms of making myself feel better) his nightly waking then sleeping with me is not being caused by his diabetes- it’s the habit we’ve created.

And… like that… We go back to performing our nightly routine. The picking him up, the squeezing hands around my neck, the nuzzling his head under my shoulder blade the quite murmurs of “mom mom mom mom mom mom” as I gently lay down with him and run my fingers through his sweet hair while softly rubbing his back.

And I think to myself… am I giving in to the diabetes? Am I letting it win? Am I treating him different?

I woke up this morning like every other morning this week… to the sweetest smiles and hugs and a “bop bop” shoved in my mouth.  I took the paci out, rolled over and looking him in the eyes I presented Saul with his first “big boy dilemma.” “Buddy you got a choice… either you sleep in your own bed at night like a big boy or you gotta give up the bop bop like a big boy…  one or other has got to happen… so what’s it gonna be?”

We made it 6 hours paci-free.  

Diabetes complicates everything. Sure raising kids is tough… even the best ones test your patience and drive you to your wits end… but raising a diabetic kid is even tougher.  It’s constant man on man defense with the big D. And yeah… I’ve been checking him… each night… a good 8 or 9 times just to be sure… to be safe.

I know deep down that an 18 month old should sleep in their own bed. I know it looks ridiculous to see a toddler walking around with a paci in their mouth. But I also know that this little boy is getting ready to face some serious obstacles in the coming days… ones that even grown adults need comforting mechanisms for (Jennifer told us yesterday he is the youngest she has ever worked with- her next youngest was put on the pump at 4).

I have no doubt that Saul will do fine. He’s a tough booger even if he does need his Mommy to go to sleep. And when it comes right down to it… I just hid all the bop bops… I didn’t throw them away J