I know it shouldn't be me blogging yet again, it's someone else's turn; but the rest of the family are particularly busy right now and I had something I wanted to say.
I wanted to say how brave Mike has been letting us do this. We're not pointing out what a pain I am to live with, and I can assure you I have my moments; or Ellen and Beth (who have lots of moments); we're just talking about Mike. I don't think hearing how tricky things can be sometimes, for the rest of us, is good for Mike's ego, but he does recognise how important it is for us to be able to talk about it, and we all hope that it might help support others in the same situation.
So thank you Mike, for letting us do this. We love you.
Jane
Posted by Anonymous on Thursday, 25 March 2010
Posted by Anonymous on Monday, 22 March 2010
Still Learning
Saturday brought with it another morning hypo. Although never pleasant, it did prove timely. All this blogging has led to lots of discussions about diabetes, which is marvellous at a time when the kids are more aware and eager to learn. We have all learnt a lot; about diabetes, and about each other.
Some of the things the girls weren't sure about, surprised me. I suppose I thought that living with diabetes all this time had been enough to prepare them to take on some responsibilites, if, or when, they would need to. In fact, what they know is the theory, but they worry about failing the practical.
I realise now that I have sheilded them from Mike's severe hypos. Rare, and usually first thing in the morning, it hasn't been hard to ensure that the kids were somewhere else while I sorted Mike out. Mike isn't Mike when he's hypo. I can't expect him to react in a way he would usually react. It makes parenting a little inconsistent. The kids didn't understand those inconsistencies when they were small. They do now. I also didn't want them to witness my anxiety, in the same way you don't want to pass on a fear of spiders, or in my case, bridges (strange but true), you put on a brave face. I try to appear calm, explain what's going on in a very 'matter of fact' way, a "Just going to make a cup of tea and bring Daddy round from a hypo" way. I didn't want them to worry.
Since Ellen has been at secondary school, morning hypos have become a pain. I have a lot to sort out early in the morning, everything is more of a rush, with a list of things to remember to remind. I suspect I convey annoyance rather than panic on those days, at the extra job I've been given at a particularly inconvenient moment. It's not a great time to start asking questions and have a good open discussion; but bless our wonderful daughters, for reading the situation well enough to know to get their own breakfast, get themselves sorted out independently and out to school on time.
On Saturday, Mike woke up hypo. We were all together round the breakfast table as he came round. We used it as a practical lesson. While Mike was refusing sugar, I explained what to do, and also saw how hard it would be for them to take control. Afterwards, we sat and talked about it. Mike tried to explain the confusing messages that are going through his head when he's hypo, Ellen and Beth explained how they felt, why it was scary and what their concerns were. How do you persuade a grown man who is usually in charge, to take something sugary, when his brain is telling him not to? It was a lesson for all of us, and it's not over yet.
Jane
Some of the things the girls weren't sure about, surprised me. I suppose I thought that living with diabetes all this time had been enough to prepare them to take on some responsibilites, if, or when, they would need to. In fact, what they know is the theory, but they worry about failing the practical.
I realise now that I have sheilded them from Mike's severe hypos. Rare, and usually first thing in the morning, it hasn't been hard to ensure that the kids were somewhere else while I sorted Mike out. Mike isn't Mike when he's hypo. I can't expect him to react in a way he would usually react. It makes parenting a little inconsistent. The kids didn't understand those inconsistencies when they were small. They do now. I also didn't want them to witness my anxiety, in the same way you don't want to pass on a fear of spiders, or in my case, bridges (strange but true), you put on a brave face. I try to appear calm, explain what's going on in a very 'matter of fact' way, a "Just going to make a cup of tea and bring Daddy round from a hypo" way. I didn't want them to worry.
Since Ellen has been at secondary school, morning hypos have become a pain. I have a lot to sort out early in the morning, everything is more of a rush, with a list of things to remember to remind. I suspect I convey annoyance rather than panic on those days, at the extra job I've been given at a particularly inconvenient moment. It's not a great time to start asking questions and have a good open discussion; but bless our wonderful daughters, for reading the situation well enough to know to get their own breakfast, get themselves sorted out independently and out to school on time.
On Saturday, Mike woke up hypo. We were all together round the breakfast table as he came round. We used it as a practical lesson. While Mike was refusing sugar, I explained what to do, and also saw how hard it would be for them to take control. Afterwards, we sat and talked about it. Mike tried to explain the confusing messages that are going through his head when he's hypo, Ellen and Beth explained how they felt, why it was scary and what their concerns were. How do you persuade a grown man who is usually in charge, to take something sugary, when his brain is telling him not to? It was a lesson for all of us, and it's not over yet.
Jane
Posted by Anonymous on Wednesday, 17 March 2010
Elastigirl Envy
Mike's Mum was present at the birth of both of our daughters. I had asked that she be there. I knew she would be able to spot if Mike was going low, and know what to do. I had an idea my attention may be elsewhere. As it happened, he was fine, which was just as well as after 42 hours, I'd eaten all the sweets.
In the first few weeks of parenthood, Ellen lulled us into a false sense of security, as babies are wont to do. You build yourself up to a major life change, no sleep, incessant crying. We went home and had a pizza. It all seemed a doddle. We lowered our guard, we thought she was the best baby in the world, then she changed her game.
At six weeks, Ellen stopped sleeping and began a feeding frenzy. I was exhausted. Ellen, unhelpfully, flatly refused to take a bottle. I ate three large meals a day, took build up drinks in between and still lost weight. She drained me. Everything is a blur. Mike was working for an agency at the time, long hours, strict deadlines. He arrived home to be handed the baby so that I could get some rest. I'm sure anyone who has children will recognise the level of exhaustion I'm talking about here. Now add diabetes.
I wake up to the sound of Ellen calling for her morning feed, and see that Mike is looking that waxy, pasty colour you learn to recognise as a bad sign. I try to get him to talk to me to confirm my suspicion that his sugars are low and sure enough he's unable to answer simple questions and too unresponsive to sort himself out alone. By now, Ellen is screaming. I'm pulled two ways, my heart is divided, I have to sort Mike out first, but I'm a Mummy and my baby needs me. More than once I found myself running from room to room, sorting out Mike, then feeding Ellen, back to check on Mike and back to Ellen, thinking, I'm sure this isn't how it's supposed to be. Telling the story later was always entertaining, it sounded like part of a comedy show. Ellen was always rather surprised to be thrown back in her cot mid feed, and Mike would always add a surreal touch by answering my test questions with bewildering answers if he had not fully come round.
I hadn't anticipated the need to be more than one person, in more than one place at a time. I expected it with the second baby, but not with the first. I suppose I'd forgotten about Mike. I've been temporarily distracted, for about ten years. I always thought it would be great to have the powers of Elastigirl from The Incredibles. Elastigirl with extra arms would be the ultimate power for any Mum, maybe with a built-in everlasting tissue dispenser.
Jane
In the first few weeks of parenthood, Ellen lulled us into a false sense of security, as babies are wont to do. You build yourself up to a major life change, no sleep, incessant crying. We went home and had a pizza. It all seemed a doddle. We lowered our guard, we thought she was the best baby in the world, then she changed her game.
At six weeks, Ellen stopped sleeping and began a feeding frenzy. I was exhausted. Ellen, unhelpfully, flatly refused to take a bottle. I ate three large meals a day, took build up drinks in between and still lost weight. She drained me. Everything is a blur. Mike was working for an agency at the time, long hours, strict deadlines. He arrived home to be handed the baby so that I could get some rest. I'm sure anyone who has children will recognise the level of exhaustion I'm talking about here. Now add diabetes.
I wake up to the sound of Ellen calling for her morning feed, and see that Mike is looking that waxy, pasty colour you learn to recognise as a bad sign. I try to get him to talk to me to confirm my suspicion that his sugars are low and sure enough he's unable to answer simple questions and too unresponsive to sort himself out alone. By now, Ellen is screaming. I'm pulled two ways, my heart is divided, I have to sort Mike out first, but I'm a Mummy and my baby needs me. More than once I found myself running from room to room, sorting out Mike, then feeding Ellen, back to check on Mike and back to Ellen, thinking, I'm sure this isn't how it's supposed to be. Telling the story later was always entertaining, it sounded like part of a comedy show. Ellen was always rather surprised to be thrown back in her cot mid feed, and Mike would always add a surreal touch by answering my test questions with bewildering answers if he had not fully come round.
I hadn't anticipated the need to be more than one person, in more than one place at a time. I expected it with the second baby, but not with the first. I suppose I'd forgotten about Mike. I've been temporarily distracted, for about ten years. I always thought it would be great to have the powers of Elastigirl from The Incredibles. Elastigirl with extra arms would be the ultimate power for any Mum, maybe with a built-in everlasting tissue dispenser.
Jane
Posted by Beth on Saturday, 13 March 2010
I don't think getting a new bike has ever been so scary!
Dear Reader,
Last summer Ellen and I both needed a new bike. First we went to 'Go Outdoors' where Ellen saw a bike she really fancied, I didn't however so we went to 'Halfords'. There was a bike there that I really liked but they only had one in stock and it was broken.
The next day Dad and I went to the bigger 'Halfords' that the man had told us about. They had the right bike so we went to the counter and bought it. Whilst the man was getting the bike out, Dad started pouring little sachets of sugar into his mouth. This scared me because I knew he wasn't supposed to do this, I don't think I would have worried about it if Mum was there because she would have probably known if he was low or not. I didn't really know what to do, I knew I wanted him to stop, but if he was low he would need the sugar, I wasn't sure how to ask him. Because I thought he was low, I didn't trust him to give me truthful answer about what he was doing, since when he's low in the mornings if you ask him if he's low he sometimes denies it. As it turns out, he was not low, just trying to make sure that he wouldn't be low when he was driving me home.
For this reason I would like to know more about diabetes and how you can tell if someone is low and how to deal with it.
Beth
Last summer Ellen and I both needed a new bike. First we went to 'Go Outdoors' where Ellen saw a bike she really fancied, I didn't however so we went to 'Halfords'. There was a bike there that I really liked but they only had one in stock and it was broken.
The next day Dad and I went to the bigger 'Halfords' that the man had told us about. They had the right bike so we went to the counter and bought it. Whilst the man was getting the bike out, Dad started pouring little sachets of sugar into his mouth. This scared me because I knew he wasn't supposed to do this, I don't think I would have worried about it if Mum was there because she would have probably known if he was low or not. I didn't really know what to do, I knew I wanted him to stop, but if he was low he would need the sugar, I wasn't sure how to ask him. Because I thought he was low, I didn't trust him to give me truthful answer about what he was doing, since when he's low in the mornings if you ask him if he's low he sometimes denies it. As it turns out, he was not low, just trying to make sure that he wouldn't be low when he was driving me home.
For this reason I would like to know more about diabetes and how you can tell if someone is low and how to deal with it.
Beth
Posted by Anonymous on Friday, 12 March 2010
Babies
I haven't mentioned before that when I was born I was lactose intolerant. Actually it was more than just lactose, it was also glucose, sucrose and fructose according to my Mother, though she does have a tendency to exaggerate. A nightmare for any parent, I squirted everything that was fed to me, very efficiently, out of both ends, gradually shrinking, until eventually a doctor realised my Mum wasn't just one of those panicky ones, and I was popped back into hospital in the nick of time, diagnosed (incorrectly as it later turned out) and fed some amazing milk substitute, which made me inflate into an enormous toddler at twice the normal rate.
I was told I had galactosaemia, which I didn't because you cannot grow out of that, and I did grow out of mine, by the time I was six. I shamelessly used my dubious medical condition for years afterwards, to get me out of eating various items on the school dinner menu that I just didn't fancy.
When I became pregnant with our first daughter Ellen, I diligently filled in all the forms and answered all the questions and watched the midwife's shoulders slump with dispair as I listed Mike's diabetes and my own medical history. I remember her looking quite bewildered, possibly an 'I could do without this' expression on her face. I think that was the first time a worst case scenario flashed through my mind. Up until then I had been more worried about the possibility that it might be twins, my Mum being an identical twin, and it having already done the 'miss a generation' thing.
The first thing she said was that a home birth was out of the question and that tests would need to be done once the baby was born before I could take her home. She suggested I ring the special baby unit to try to find out more, and prepare them (presumably for what I was about to put them through). It's impossible to prepare someone for something you can't identify. I was misdiagnosed, I, to this day, don't know what I had, the special baby unit was stumped.
Mike and I made it our mission to find out everything we could about what to expect if our baby emerged with either or both of our illnesses, and the knowledge did help. We felt we'd regained a bit of control over the situation, and that kept us calm.
I was very lucky, I had a wonderful pregnancy, everything went smoothly, I went all curvy (which I loved) and my hair looked great! Ellen decided to join us on her due date, but then changed her mind, then thought maybe she would, or maybe not, but thought it might be nice, but wasn't sure. She arrived 42 hours later and hasn't been able to make a quick decision since. Ellen weighed in at 8lb 1oz, took one look at me and settled in for a good feed. I thought, jolly good, she's fine, and every worry disappeared. I knew she was fine.
The nurses required scientific proof. If you have ever tried getting a urine sample from a new born baby, you probably won't be surprised that it wasn't until three days later, Ellen and I were finally released from hospital with a clean bill of health.
Second time around I neglected to mention our medical histories, maybe that was foolhardy, but I was convinced I would know if there was a problem, and I didn't want to be stuck in hospital for another three days, I wanted to be at home with Ellen. Beth popped out quite decisively and weighed in at an impressive 9lb. Ellen arrived to visit a few hours later, and greeted her new baby sister by coughing in her face. You have to smile.
Jane
I was told I had galactosaemia, which I didn't because you cannot grow out of that, and I did grow out of mine, by the time I was six. I shamelessly used my dubious medical condition for years afterwards, to get me out of eating various items on the school dinner menu that I just didn't fancy.
When I became pregnant with our first daughter Ellen, I diligently filled in all the forms and answered all the questions and watched the midwife's shoulders slump with dispair as I listed Mike's diabetes and my own medical history. I remember her looking quite bewildered, possibly an 'I could do without this' expression on her face. I think that was the first time a worst case scenario flashed through my mind. Up until then I had been more worried about the possibility that it might be twins, my Mum being an identical twin, and it having already done the 'miss a generation' thing.
The first thing she said was that a home birth was out of the question and that tests would need to be done once the baby was born before I could take her home. She suggested I ring the special baby unit to try to find out more, and prepare them (presumably for what I was about to put them through). It's impossible to prepare someone for something you can't identify. I was misdiagnosed, I, to this day, don't know what I had, the special baby unit was stumped.
Mike and I made it our mission to find out everything we could about what to expect if our baby emerged with either or both of our illnesses, and the knowledge did help. We felt we'd regained a bit of control over the situation, and that kept us calm.
I was very lucky, I had a wonderful pregnancy, everything went smoothly, I went all curvy (which I loved) and my hair looked great! Ellen decided to join us on her due date, but then changed her mind, then thought maybe she would, or maybe not, but thought it might be nice, but wasn't sure. She arrived 42 hours later and hasn't been able to make a quick decision since. Ellen weighed in at 8lb 1oz, took one look at me and settled in for a good feed. I thought, jolly good, she's fine, and every worry disappeared. I knew she was fine.
The nurses required scientific proof. If you have ever tried getting a urine sample from a new born baby, you probably won't be surprised that it wasn't until three days later, Ellen and I were finally released from hospital with a clean bill of health.
Second time around I neglected to mention our medical histories, maybe that was foolhardy, but I was convinced I would know if there was a problem, and I didn't want to be stuck in hospital for another three days, I wanted to be at home with Ellen. Beth popped out quite decisively and weighed in at an impressive 9lb. Ellen arrived to visit a few hours later, and greeted her new baby sister by coughing in her face. You have to smile.
Jane
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