Dear Max,
Today marks four years since you were diagnosed with type 1 diabetes, a condition that leaves your pancreas unable to produce insulin. It all started with a subtle weight loss—just a pound—but it set off alarm bells for me. I fought hard for answers because I knew deep down that something was off. A four-year-old shouldn’t be losing weight or feeling so tired.
Despite running various tests, everything appeared normal until your thirst became insatiable. I can still picture the pediatrician’s face when the blood test revealed a staggering 568. You were so small and fragile. Within hours, we met with the endocrinologist, who prepared us for the new reality: you would need insulin for the rest of your life. Left untreated, the consequences could have been fatal.
That night, I gave you your first insulin injection and checked your blood sugar levels, my hands shaking with uncertainty. You never complained, not once. The weight of this new information was overwhelming—too much insulin could lead to death, but too little was equally dangerous. But we quickly learned the ropes: counting carbs, calculating insulin doses, making adjustments for exercise, illness, and growth spurts.
In an instant, type 1 diabetes became a constant presence in our lives, threatening to disrupt everything. Yet, together, we’ve managed to keep it in check, and you’re flourishing. It’s a battle that won’t cease, but neither will we.
For four years, I’ve carried you into my room every night. It took you a while to ask, “Why do I end up here every night?” I told you it was so I could be close enough to catch a low or a high, to hear you breathe. Last night, you felt so heavy in my arms, close to eighty pounds. I know the day will come when I won’t be able to carry you anymore.
What will I do then? Will I let you sleep alone? The one time I let you, I missed the alarm for your low sugar. You didn’t wake up at all. They call it hypoglycemic unawareness. If I hadn’t woken up, things could have turned tragic.
There are countless warriors like you living full lives with type 1 diabetes. I never want you to see this illness as a crutch but rather as something to be aware of. This condition isn’t a death sentence, but it can be perilous. We can manage everything perfectly 99% of the time, and yet, it only takes one untreated low or high for everything to change. We must stay vigilant.
Max, you’re so incredibly brave. I know it’s challenging to be different—to sometimes miss out on what others are enjoying; to remember your bag, to turn off your pump before playing, to bolus before meals, and to be aware that not all foods digest at the same pace.
I’m doing my best to help you navigate this, but ultimately, you’ll need to take the reins. And I have faith that you will.
When your grandfather passed away and your dad and I had to go to El Salvador for his funeral, your pump malfunctioned, and we panicked. Your grandmas tried to help, but they couldn’t figure out how to change it. We had to rush you to the hospital, and thankfully, a kind nurse helped you out on Christmas Eve.
Last month, when your pump failed, you guided our friend through the entire process to change it. You explained how to prepare your skin, measure insulin, and where to place the new pump. He told me he couldn’t have done it without your clear instructions. I was so proud of your resilience and strength.
I’ll admit, Max, I sometimes wonder if I caused this. Was it something in my diet? A dental procedure during my pregnancy? The uncertainty lingers, especially with COVID-19 complicating everything. Am I making the right choices for you? Your body has never reacted well to illness, but how will this isolation affect you mentally? Balancing your physical and mental health is a tough equation.
So, my dear son, please continue to be strong as you grow. Don’t harbor resentment. There are others facing more daunting challenges than yours. You have access to resources that many children with diabetes do not. Remember to appreciate what you have, including the extensive support system of friends, family, teachers, doctors, and nurses around you. Always express your gratitude.
I promise to be your advocate for life, but also promise me that you will advocate for yourself. Educate others about this condition and its many costs—physical, emotional, and financial. And always remember, 1.6 million Americans wake up every day facing the same battle. You are never alone.
I can envision you, your brother, and sister huddled over biochemistry books in your college dorms. You all have the potential to achieve great things.
With all my love,
Mom
Search Queries:
- How to manage type 1 diabetes in children
- Diabetes support for families
- Living with type 1 diabetes
- Tips for parents of children with diabetes
- Understanding hypoglycemic unawareness
Summary:
This heartfelt letter reflects a mother’s journey with her son, Max, following his diagnosis of type 1 diabetes. It narrates the challenges and triumphs they face together, emphasizing the importance of resilience, awareness, and gratitude. The letter encourages Max to embrace his condition while reminding him of the robust support system surrounding him. The mother expresses her commitment to advocate for him while instilling in him the need to self-advocate and educate others about diabetes.
Keyphrase: A Love Letter to My Son with Type 1 Diabetes
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