I just realized that I am moving through the stages of grief. Even though I am a nurse and have done my fair share of counseling others as well, I guess I didn't realize that having your 6 year old only child diagnosed with diabetes would send you into the stages of grief. But I have been in them and apparently I am still moving through them. In some ways it's compounded by the fact that our family members (namely moms) have been busy with their own issues. They haven't really been there to help. I feel alone sometimes. Like nobody understands. I guess it would be nice to know that someone could watch the boy so the hubbs and I could have a date once in awhile. But so much has changed since the diabetes. Our family doesn't live in the same town as us and when they are in town they don't come by or call. I know they will read this and I'll probably be looked at as the bad guy (again), but it's how I feel. I've had to deal with their issues and be there for them and listen to them, but I honestly don't feel the same in return. Am I the bad guy for thinking this? I'm almost sure that I will be made out to be. I will be accused (once again) of being insensitive to the needs of others and not considering what they are going through. Sometimes being a grown-up just sucks.
So here are the stages of grief and how I've progressed through them:
I guess it started with acceptance. The first few days I knew we had no choice but to go into the hospital and get the boy taken care of. Then as we came home I was a wreck that first day home. I couldn't even speak for the tears. I was so upset for my boy. And I was terrified of him having a seizure and me having to see him that way.
Then I guess it went into denial. I began to think that maybe we had got it wrong. Maybe this was a fluke and he really didn't have diabetes and then he'd had a high like over 500 and I'd realize that he really did have it.
On occasion I would just be angry. One time I even kicked the kitchen cabinets I was so mad. I wouldn't say that I was mad at God, I was just mad. Angry that my precious son had to endure this. Angry that his life would be different from now on in so many ways. And the whole while, I am SO thankful that we aren't having to deal with something much worse, but still.
Then I hit a depression. I think I am still there in some ways. Some days it's all I can do to hold up my head. He is so strong and brave. But then I think about how one day I won't be there to make sure he's checking his blood sugars and will he be diligent? Will he eat right? Will he have a low in the middle of the night and I won't be there to help him wake up and deal with it? What about when he's older? Will he have heart disease or a stroke or nerve problems due to the diabetes? I wish that I couldn't think these thoughts, but sometimes I do. And it absolutely breaks my heart.
I don't know that I have actually bargained with God. I guess in some ways I have. I have prayed that if God will let him live a long and prosperous life that he will be a testimony to what God can do. I pray for physical and spiritual protection every night. And then sometimes I go back into his room and lay hands on him and pray it again.
I haven't really journaled my thoughts through our first year of diabetes, but I am wishing I would have. Each day is a new experience in our new world of "normal". Not only has the diabetes invaded our lives, but we left our church home and I left my job and ministry and the boy left his school. So many changes, so little time has gone by. Where will tomorrow take us? On a high or low? Up or down? My head just spins thinking about it and I want to curl up in a ball and shut out the world. But my boy needs me and I have to work tonight taking care of sick patients. Dinner has to be made and I have to teach the boy. Another day....another day....
Lord, I need your strength....