Woman, Independent Parent, Artist, Advocate, Artifical Pancreas.... and EVERYTHING in between.

I am blessed to be parenting two beautiful girls, ages eight and eleven. My youngest nearly lost her life at age six (August 2010) to diabetic ketoacidosis: an often fatal consequences of undiagnosed type 1 diabetes. This is OUR journey: raw and sometimes, uncensored.

Thank you for visiting wishing good health and a cooperative pancreas to you and yours.

Friday, October 7, 2011


Acceptance, for me, washes back and forth like the ebb and flow of an ocean's tide. Somedays, I realize, okay, this is it. We can do this. This is manageable. For a moment I feel pride as to how far we've come that I've finally been able to accept this as reality.

But then a day creeps up without warning, without invitation, and I'm just angry. Angry over all that is being endured by a seven year old. It just isn't right.

I could cry a million tears and it wouldn't make an ounce of difference. I could lay down my body in sacrifice for you, and it too would be in vain. Absolutely completely helpless in this situation. Helpless to make it any better for you. Helpless to make it go away.

I'm tired of crying. I'm tired of being angry. May the tides of acceptance wash over me again soon. May they drown me in complacency. Someone... throw me a life preserver, and a fresh syringe.

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