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.

Thursday, March 8, 2012


Yesterday was our quarterly endocrinologist appointment. As always, we visited with the dietician, the endocrinologist, and the diabetic nurse. The diabetic nurse was also our insulin pump trainer, and over the last year and a half, we've developed a good rapport.

Rowan's A1C came down. From 8.3 to 7.9. What is an A1C? Here you go

While I was expecting a lower A1C, I'll admit, I had hoped for it to be lower. 7.5 was my magic number. 7.5 and I warned EVERYBODY I'd be doing the Happy Mama Victory Tap Dance in the hospital parking lot. Needless to say, Rowan was TREMENDOUSLY relieved she avoided that scenario. My girls. They never appreciate my spontaneous moments of dancing in public! Don't you worry my pretties, I'm confident the NEXT A1C will be under 7.5 and then, not ONLY will I be doing my dance in the parking lot, hell, I'll post it online!

Are you waiting for a but somewhere right about now???

Yup.... here it comes.

She hasn't grown, or gained an ounce since last August. She is in the 50th percentile for height and weight. Oh. You KNOW they're going to give me a challenge to address this. Not quite the immunity challenge to avoid being voted off diabetes island, but a challenge none the less.

200 grams.

That's how much they want to see her weight increase before our June appointment.

In hindsight, I should have offered for the dietician to take her for the next three months. See what wonders SHE can spin.

They print me off a very helpful sheet of high protein, high calorie food choices for my Little Bones. 'Tis true.... there IS a reason why I've been calling her Little Bones for years.

Today was day one of the Plump Rowan UP challenge. I tried.... and promptly fell in my face. I picked her up from school having mixed a chocolate banana smoothie for an after school snack (74 grams of carbohydrates in one cup). She'd have NOTHING to do with it. Sloppy Joe's for dinner tonight. Normally, I buy things according to price, but for the hamburger buns, I actually selected the ones that had the highest caloric intake. Sigh. One bite. That was all I got out of her.

The way I see it, I have two options. I can try stretching the child, or I can fill her pockets with pebbles for the next appointment.

Do you think they'd get suspicious as to why she was all lumpy and bumpy?

In the meantime, watch this. I'll have put on a pound just for my efforts by June. Will THAT count for anything??

In closing. I propose this: WHY, oh WHY is it that the finicky child who claims she's STARVING but refuses to eat ANYTHING, can't simply gorge themselves on their own attitude? Now THAT would be a start.

Where's the beef? Screw that. THIS is Mission Impossible.

Good thing I love a challenge. Particularly a scrawny challenge with great big brown eyes. That's alright. One day she'll have a child, and I'll be sitting back, sipping my tea, chuckling my ass off.

Love you Rowan. NOW EAT!

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