It was a Monday. It was this Monday; not by date, but as it falls. The Monday between celebrating his fifth birthday with friends and celebrating it for real. It was a normal day, full of tutoring, preschool, and soccer practice. However, it was different. It was the day it all sunk in. It was the day it hit me that we might not, in fact, be ruling out that something was wrong. It was the day I spent the afternoon on the phone with my mom and some good friends in the peds field; the day I teetered between waiting for his scheduled Wednesday doctor’s appointment or rushing in for something sooner.
We didn’t know it that day, but that Monday was the last of that chapter of our lives. It was the last of a childhood where our son could eat or run without worry. The last of eating foods without immediately knowing their carb count. The last of dropping him off with friends carefree. It was the last of the days where a car nap was just a car nap. It was the last of so many things.
But it was also the last of a time where we didn’t know how strong our son was. A time where we didn’t know just exactly how kind and compassionate he was. The last of any question about the support system we have and how much they will rally around us. The last of any misunderstanding about the lengths you will go as a parent to keep your child safe and healthy.
As we draw closer to our one year mark, the words a dear friend’s mom shared with us in the hospital ring in my ears, “It will alter your life, but it won’t end your life.” I’m grateful every day for those words. I’m grateful on the days when it’s hard and we don’t understand what his blood sugar is doing, and the days when it’s textbook and “easy.” I thank God every day for this sweet boy of ours. I’m so grateful he’s mine.