God gave me the struggles I had to endure so I could become the mom I am today

A few days ago I went to the park with my friend and her two children. As you know I have five year old twins, one of whom has autism. As all the other children were running around freely, I saw that most of the mothers were on their cellphones, not paying attention. I, of course, was obsessively watching my kids, even hovering around them. My son's "autistic focus" is makes and models of cars and often likes to run into parking lots. Sure enough, as I was darting left and right, he ran for it. I sprinted after him and brought him back over by his sister. After several times I was becoming exhausted. It was at that point that he decided to have an all out meltdown over the noise his swing was making.
I started rubbing his head and shoulders and singing, "Kumbaya" while pushing his forehead up against mine. My friend said, "I'll watch Lila," my daughter. After it was all over and most people were staring, my friend said, "You are a good mom, Wendy. I don't know how you do it." I looked at her frankly and said, "I don't have to take his blood sugar. I don't have to worry about him passing out in the parking lot. That makes it much easier."
I am not trying to compare diseases, but I am used to being stared at. I've spent 28 years taking my blood sugar and insulin in public or cutting someone in line because I needed a soda. I've had everyone I know give me "that look" because I acted super weird when I had low blood sugar and somehow they expected me to apologize for it. I've had enough embarrassing episodes with type 1 diabetes to write a blog only about that.
One time at a meeting for parents with autism, the speaker said, "It is important you push your child's hands down and try to control them when they start hand-flapping." I raised my hand and asked bluntly, "What the hell do I care if my son starts hand-flapping?" She responded, "Well, it's okay now but wait until he is 17." I was quiet but I knew that hand-flapping or "stemming" is important for a child with autism to control their senses. It made me sad that someone would be embarrassed of her own child.
But I digress. After hating diabetes for so long and wanting so bad to break out of my own skin, I realize God gave it to me so I would be strong enough to handle my own child's disease. Although it is harder for me to take care of myself with two kids, I have no problem with it now at all. "That which does not kill you makes you stronger." (Nietzsche) And I'm still alive.

When my son Ty (one of my twins) was 2 1/2, he was diagnosed with Autism. Along with my type 1 diabetes, we are quiet the special needs family. Ty's twin sister has serious OCD, which doesn't seem like a big deal until she is freaking out about messing up a picture she drew as Ty is having a massive autistic meltdown and I realize my blood sugar is 48 and falling. I am forced to take care of myself first and quickly so I usually just grab a bottle of juice and chug it while rubbing Ty's head and telling poor Lila to "get over it or I'll throw her picture in the trash". Well, I am now on my search to find other diabetics with special needs kids. I would like to find one, anyhow. If you are, let me know in the comments.

The Diabetic Deathwish

So I started this blog to connect with other type 1 diabetics. I was diagnosed with this treat of a disease 28 years ago at the age of 13. Unfortunately, every diabetic I ever met has been a complete masochist. One was a cocaine and heroin addict. One was a crystal meth abuser. And only other one was had a food addiction that seemed to be more destructive than the drug users. I myself am an alcoholic. Years ago I started asking, "Why?" It was then that I coined the term "Diabetic Deathwish". Trying not to make excuses for such behaviors, I truly believe that after being told we are going to lose our legs, go blind, ruin our kidneys, go into a coma at any given moment, etc., that a lot of us just say, "Screw it. I am going to live however I want." Fortunately for me, eight years after giving birth to a stillborn due to diabetic complications, I had twins:  a boy and a girl. They changed my life. I do everything I can to take care of myself now. But not every diabetic does. Everyone knows there is a depression that comes with having to think about your blood sugar every minute of every day, missing out on life and even just regular thinking patterns. But does anyone ever mature past the date of their diagnosis. I wonder. I guess I just have to figure that Nick Jonas has it under control. Can't I? This is just the beginning....stay tuned since everyone I know thinks I am the funniest person they know, there is humor in diabetes. But sometimes I'd just like to write behind the façade...