I'm starting to notice a pattern....

Bryan's in California doing training for his new job for two weeks. It's the longest we have ever been apart in about 3 years. It's also the farthest we have ever been apart since we met.

I decided that since I'm home most of the day looking for a new job, that I can go and eat dinner at Mum's. This way I'm eating and I know it will be healthy because she's gone on one of her crazy eating out is the devil phases. She does that, usually when she gains a lot of weight in a small amount of time. Thank you Madrina, not only did I get an evil flu that attempted to kill me, nearly potetially had my foot amputated due to a stealthy needle, but now Mum is on her new religion of nutrition kick.

So Mum feed me.

Since I got out of the hospital, I've noticed that my blood sugar goes low when I eat at Mum's. And it's not a little low, it's so low I could have a seizure and go into a coma low. Even worse, she never has sugar in the house, especially when she's on her food is the devil kick, so I end up scavenging for carbs. Her answer to these lows (low being 34 - 56), eat a sandwhich with wheat bread which do nothing. I've talked to her about this. How she needs sugar in the house. Her response, "Can't you eat something healthy to raise your sugar?" I could, but she's killing my happiness here. Whenever my blood sugar goes under 80 I get happy. Like extremely happy, like as happy when I'm in a shoe store and they have these cute shoes in my size on sale. Why? I can literally eat whatever I want in that moment. Donuts, ice cream, soda, cookies, cake, churros, cupcakes, icees, anything I crave that is off limits. Fot that one moment, I can be normal. We, diabetics, live for these moments. LIVE. LIVE!!!! We go and get me a giant bag of peanut M&M's for these low sugar dips and the woman ends up eating the whole bag in three days. Doesn't help she's a compulsive eater and that she likes every single brand of candy I am willing to eat. So much for having a stash of sugar at her house.

I have also talked to her about the importance of carbs being on my plate. She has this horrible tendency of giving me a meat and two vegetables and claiming it's a meal. By normal standards, sure it's a meal, but by diabetic standards it is not a meal. There are no carbs on my plate and here I am taking a full dose of insulin thinking I'm going to get carbs. When I bottom out she doesn't understand. After I explained this to her a few months ago, she made sure I had potatoes, rice, or pasta on my plate. But now she's on the food is the devil kick, and her aim isn't only at eating out and fast food, it's also on carbs.

There are no carbs in her house, at all. She will not cook with them, She will not eat them. Carbs are the devil. Carbs are making her fat and no matter how much I try to explain that carbs are energy that the brain needs to function, she will continue to disagree. She's is on a war path and carbs are in her line of sight.

This is problematic. This means she's not feeding me right and when I tell her this she is not happy. A meat and two vegetables is a healthy meal she says. You don't need carbs she says. It's January all over again. And the when she does give me carbs, it's literally three little new potatoes. THREE! 3! How is three itsy bitsy tiny potatoes enough carbs? Well vegetables have carbs in them she says. Not the complex carbs that I need. And then she wonders why I dip down to 35 and complains about it.

I call Bryan and complain how she's not feeding me right. Then I start bringing over extra food, or coke, or eating on the way to her house so that when I shoot up I won't bottom out. I really don't like my blood sugar being in the 30's, it does a number on me and makes me tired.

Then it dawns on me. A question. A question I'll have to ask my Endo at my appointment that's coming up. If there aren't any carbs on my plate, does that mean I don't have to take insulin? And if this is the case, does that mean I could potentially lower my does, or cure myself with this rigorous diet? But is it worth it? That means saying good bye to all carbs, not just sweet, but potatoes, and grains, and pasta, and oatmeal, and and...Do I really want to do this? The answer is no.

Growing up, I was used to the meat and two vegetables. There were hardly any carbs on my plate. The only time I had carbs was when I ate a Denny's (ice cream sundae), we cooked pasta or Puerto Rican food, and when I drank coke. Pizza wasn't that big in my childhood. I hardly ate sweets, I usually had a sandwhich for lunch, and I never ate breakfast. But, I did eat fruit and drink smoothies. Then college hit. Stupid college, ruining my eating habits.

Still, she's not feeding me right and she's adamant in her arguement that a meat and two vegetables is a full meal full of nutrients. Then she likes to remind me a few sentences later that I'm not normal. If I'm not normal then why are you putting on my plate food that a normal person could eat and feel fine.

Where to start.....

It's one of those nights to one of those days. Insomnia has taken over. My thought processes scattered, littering the beautiful green grass that helps my feet find solid ground. And yet I feel as though I'm drowning, or choking, unable to find air to fill my lungs. I know it's there, I just can't seem to come into contact with it.

I guess, it started a few days ago. Day and night has been blending causing me to lose count. I've been depressed for about two weeks, but it didn't show it's ugly head until a few days ago. One sentence was all it took.

"We aren't going to celebrate her birthday are we?" Bryan asked me.
"Whose?" I asked. We were in the middle of discussing our future childrens birthday.
"Maddie's"
"No, we don't have to."

A few day later, this sentence forms: My daughter is dead.

My daughter is dead.

My daughter is dead.

My daughter is dead. Even typing it feels weird. I realize it hasn't been a year and half since everything happened. But still. I never thought I would be thinking such a sentence or typing such a sentence. And I don't expect anyone to understand the gravity of that sentence. It's been nearly 17 months and my brain cannot process this thought. It's an anomally in my psyche.

My daughter is dead. I miss her. I see little girls roughly her age and I wonder what she would have been like at that age. I wonder who she would look like or would she be a perfect blend of me and Bryan. What color her hair would be. Her eyes. Would she have those beautiful pouty lips the Thompson's have? Would she have the same gorgeous dimples that melt my heart like her father? What would the sound of her laugh be? Would it be this infectious laughter? Would she be cautious like her mother or bold and daring like her father? These are things I think of now. Will these questions ever stop, I have no clue.

I do want to do something on her birthday every year. Something small, unnoticable yet meaningful to me. I originally wanted to get a small M tattooed on my inner upper arm but this diabetic skin of mine proves impossible to heal correctly. Maybe one day. But until then....I'll light a candle and keep it lit until it burns out. Every year. Until I die.

I look at my life and wonder how I got here. How I got to this place, to this exact moment in time. Sometimes I think tragedy is in my blood. I am a child that has lost thier parent and a parent that has lost thier child.