Thursday, August 11, 2011

From little things to big things.

(The blue candles on Facebook fuel the embers of anger I have for this disease. My thoughts are turned to the families that are hurting, and to the new families whose lives were turned upside down today. As I tried to navigate the hurt, I found myself drawn to my keyboard, to pay homage to those that mark today as their Diagnosis Day.)

Traveling through time.

The view is bright...the seasons fly.

Family is growing.

Your mind is on the little things.

Like keeping your child happy...

And school clothes. What is for lunch? There is construction/traffic on the 101.

Suddenly there is a tapping in the back of your head.

Something isn't right.

Your child constantly thirsts. Your child does not seem right...somehow.

But you need to buy school clothes. You need to go to the grocery store.

You need to find a detour away from the 101.

"Mom, I'm thirsty."

Your heart tugs. Your mind twists and turns.

It is summer after all. You are imagining things.

You aren't a big fan of drama. You question why you are creating it in your head.

And then you see your child doing something simple,

like brushing teeth...or making their bed...

and you see it.

Your child is so skinny.

Your child looks sick.

Your child has no energy.

Something is very wrong.

And suddenly...they are throwing up.

They are breathing deeply...gasping wrong.

What is happening?

You are scared.

Your child is so scared.

And then to the hospital.

And then to be admitted.

And then for the veil to be lifted...

And nothing is the same. The world changes color.

Your child really doesn't need school clothes anymore. Your child always had enough.

There is plenty of food in the pantry.

You don't need to take the highway...the back roads are better for reflection anyway.

Diagnosis day.

Life picks you up and delivers you to your new course.

The new scenery is terrifying.

The new language is a puzzle.

And your child...

Your beautiful child is transformed.

It is as if they are magically donning shining armor.

The nobility...the bravery...the selflessness of a child with Diabetes.

The Diabetes kaleidoscope takes over your view.

Life is full of color and confusion.

But it is intensely beautiful too.

Traveling through time.

The view is bright...the seasons fly.

The family is growing.

Your mind is on the big things.

Like keeping your child alive...


  1. "a diabetes kaleidoscope" what a beautiful picture you painted :)
    I don't know what is going on with blue candles on FB, but I always know that it means my heart tugs for somebody not too far away and makes me pray.
    Thanks for your beautiful words.

  2. Heavy hearts in the DOC. Thank you Meri for your always. xo

  3. Such a beautiful post, Meri! You have an amazing way of describing things. My heart is going out to all those who're dealing with loss and with a brand new D-day. Thanks for putting it all down in words for us!

  4. This hit a little too close to home today. Liam was diagnosed in September 2 years ago. We were getting ready fly out for my mother in law's memorial service's in a few days. We were busy, at the mall, trying to find appropriate clothes for the kids to wear. My mind was elsewhere. Until it wasn't.

    I love the way you SEE things Meri. You really have a gift, not only putting your incredible insight in to words, but at your timing too. You are always on the money. Love you!

  5. I just started our family blog recently and just came over to say "Hi" and thank you for your encouraging words today and everyday. We just celebrated LIFE with our son's 1yr "D" day! I look forward to reading more from you and everyone in the DOC.

  6. Awesome. I hate diabetes, but I love what it has revealed about my wonderful son. You captured that in your words.

  7. That was perfect, Meri. Thank you!

  8. Thank you always find the perfect words.

  9. "Diabetes Kaleidoscope"... =)
    D is such a roller coaster ride..

  10. Oh Mmmmmeeeeerrrrrrrriiiii. I love you so. You have a way with words that jump off the screen and into my heart that say "See? Someone else feels the same way!" And that, my dear, is a huge comfort. Thank you for sharing your swelly brain thoughts. They are such a gift.

  11. Bigger things...keeping your child alive.

    Tears streaming down my face.


  12. Such a beautiful post! Thank you, Meri for soothing my soul tonight.

    Oh yea - did I mention that I heart you today???

  13. My heart is heavy for all those that greave for their lost child because of this crazy disease; and for todays 40 that greave for the life they once knew.

  14. It's like reading a page in my diary... literally. My son David's journey began August 3, 2011. Our life will never be the same. Thank you for this blog and restoring my sanity, soothing my guilt and justifying my emotions.

  15. Just what I needed today! My daughter was dx on 8/26/11...stumbled on your site tonight because God knew your words would help my crazy mom of a D mind. Thank you so much for shining the light on what REALLY matters...making a happy family dispite the man in black who lurks around the corner trying desperately to frazzle my mind and heart with wicked numbers and dead beat pancreases! Much love! (:


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