Tag Archives: Cure

This happens.

blue_candlesI have written and deleted this post more than four times today.

Too many thoughts, too many words, too much emotion.

I wrote about being vulnerable, drama, fear, pity, judgement, and frustration.

I wrote about good friends, family, safe spaces, sage women, trusting your gut, taking that risk and helping others.

I had a point.

I had a message.

I had a goal but in the end I realized that it was just ‘stuff’.

All I really wanted to say is that my heart aches for this family. That this could happen to anyone, we could have been these parents, that child could have been Logan.

We weren’t.

He wasn’t.

This child is ‘our’ child, the T1D community has a family that is grieving, we grieve with them and for them. Tonight like so many other parents will be doing with their own children, I will check on Logan more than normal. I will curse T1D.

Do I think about this happening? Yes, but not as often as I used to.

Not that long ago, I woke up in the middle of the night with a sick feeling in my stomach that something was wrong. I immediately went and checked on Zoe and Logan.

For the first time since his diagnosis I checked to see if he was breathing.


I checked to see if he was breathing.

My first thought was to check his breathing, not his blood sugar.

It scared me.

A lot.

That night I scooted him over and slept next to him. Not because I was nervous, but because I was grateful.

Insulin is not a cure.

I usually don’t share articles about deaths due to T1D complications. I’m not sure why. I am completely and utterly aware of this reality. Maybe it’s because I want to be that person that believes and trusts that there is a way, that there is a cure coming…before it happens again.

This is why we fund raise, why we advocate and why we keep going and why we are so grateful for all that you do to help us find a cure.

Believe me, there will be times when we yell ‘TAG! Your it!’ because we will be tired, we will need your help and we will be so happy that you are there on the front lines with us.

So hug your kids tight, unplug, share your gifts with this world, be nice to each other, hold your judgments, forgive, be gentle with yourself, and fight the fight, whatever it may be.

You matter. You make a difference. Use your power for good. Life is too precious to hold back.

And remember…this happens.

Bless this family, their friends, and their children, may they feel loved and supported during this time.






Turn back the clock. Please. No. Don’t.

M tony holding onto wet logan

Phew. I have found myself in a new place with new stuff. Startled by it? Yes. Uncomfortable? Always.

But what’s a girl to do? Well, it’s obvious isn’t it? She jumps right in there and figures it out.

I know exactly where I was when it happened and I know what started it. I saw a group of women with their cherub faced toddlers, they were laughing and playing, appearing to be fearless and care-free, and it came out of nowhere.

In an instant, and for the first time that I can remember, I wanted to go back to that time in Logan’s life before he had Type 1, before he had a speech disorder, before he would experience a roller coaster of being on the spectrum, before he would say, “Mom, please take the diabetes out of my body” and years later , “Mom, I’m afraid that people will pick on me because of my personality.”

Phew, there it is again, even as I write this, out of nowhere, it gently finds the hairline cracks in my armor and splits it wide open and makes me vulnerable. Parenting is not for the faint at heart that’s for sure.

But it’s all good. Really.

No really. Trust me. I have a plan. I have a checklist.

The last month has brought more than mud to the surface. Emotions have been raw, doubts were looming, challenges were, well, just that…challenging. I had to dig a little deeper. I had to let go. I had to remind myself that being too far in the past or too far in the future holds no power for being here right now. And I needed a nap.

When I get uncomfortable, when things surprise me, I’m reminded of who I am, who I’m not, what I’m made of and what gets me in trouble and what gets me out of trouble.

I’m stubborn, just ask my family. I’m determined. I am forever hopeful. I’m dependable.

I’m a hugger.

I’m a lover not a fighter, and not to mislead you because there are things and people that I will fight for until the end of time.

I will fight for a cure. Without a doubt.

I don’t like conflict but I know that finding a solution can get messy and it’s not always easy.

I want everyone to be heard, everyone to be honored.

I’m that person that always thinks of something to say in my car on the way home. I see both sides. Well, I try to see both sides. No one’s perfect.

I can be indecisive though I’ve been known to take off running and never look back.

I believe in people and in kindness. I believe that it is the little things that are really the big things.

Mean people get me down.

Rude people make me want to scream. In fact, I’ve been known to swear at them from the safety of my car, my laundry room and while hiking on a trail. Not a shocker given my feelings about conflict.

Being fierce both scares and inspires me.

I want everyone to have at least one person in their life that has their back, always remembering that there is strength in numbers.

I want a cure.

For everyone.

Is it possible? I have to believe.

Am I naive? Maybe.

I know that when Logan was born it never crossed my mind that we would be advocating for anything, much less a cure for Type 1 and raising awareness for Autism Spectrum Disorders.

You know what else I didn’t know, was how amazing it would all be.

Granted, at times life can be exhausting, frustrating, and all of those things that make me want to crawl into a cave and never come out. But what fun would that be? Well, lets be honest, we all need a break now and then, so there are days where that cave looks like a week on the beach with nothing but sunshine and rainbows.

So, this is my check list of sorts, bringing me full circle when life catches me by surprise.

I get uncomfortable, retreat, look at where I’ve been…no secret solution, just time and the willingness to sit with it for a bit and let the dust settle.

I admit it’s hard to go back there sometimes, but being uncomfortable is good in so many ways, it reminds me of what I have to work on and it gives me a glimpse of all that I cherish. 

Would I do anything differently given the chance to turn back the clock? I don’t know.

Well, that’s a lie because I would love to kiss those chubby cheeks, snuggle into their necks until they squeal, and scoop them up as their little legs try to carry them away in sheer delight. 

The truth is there is nothing that I could have done to spare Logan his diagnosis. What I can do is to keep advocating, raising awareness and to love everything about this challenging chaotic life.

I’m getting better at giving myself permission to feel uncomfortable. I’m quicker to get in the thick of it, trusting that I will come out stronger and more content. 

IMG_2342For me, the real beauty and power lies in the emerging, the rising up, the looking forward and celebrating all that brought me to this moment. Squeezing through those tight places and feeling so good when I reach the other side.

And this moment, it’s just another reminder to keep advocating, fund raising, connecting and serving… not only for my family and for myself, but for others, because though I speak for myself here, I know that I am not alone and we are in this together.

I want to stay there forever.

IMG_3678(1)I fully enjoyed this moment when it was happening, and when I look at it now I think- I want to stay there forever.

We were walking on the trail when the kids found this amazing tree to climb on and explore. It naturally provided its own ‘seats’ for them to snuggle into and a big smooth trunk to lay upon. It was so strong and protective, gently inviting them into a safe space.

The water was like glass, the sun was setting, the air was crisp. I feel myself sigh as I recall the moment. It was that good.

When I first noticed Logan sitting there it felt a little surreal, a bit dreamy, as if he was sitting high above the clouds looking down, pondering life, being still. It was a moment untouched by diabetes. I wanted to stay there forever.

After a long week of holiday fun, which was filled with navigating the highs and lows of his blood sugars, this moment felt like landing on a soft pillow. I wanted to stay there forever.

In our every day life, with our regular routine of school, work, Scouts and other things, T1D is so embedded into our day that it just fits like a glove, usually. It’s not until we have a special occasion or visitors that T1D taps me on my shoulder, as if to remind me that it’s there, and what it is that we do to keep Logan healthy…and alive. (This is in no way a request for you not to visit us. The joy we get from sharing time with family and friends is a blessing in itself, though for us it is also a time that gives us pause as Logan’s needs are observed not only by us, but by family and friends).

During these times, I quickly realize how many times I say “Logan, check your blood sugar“, “What’s your blood sugar Logan?”, “Logan needs his tummy shot“, “Did you dose Logan?” and truly how restricting it feels, and sometimes can be. I don’t want to stay here forever.

T1D is manageable, there are many great advancements in the field, research efforts continue to move towards better ways to support people in their daily lives, but… sometimes it just plain ole’ sucks. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for so many things, though after a week of extreme highs, extra pokes, sleepless nights and trying to keep Logan’s blood sugar in range, it not only fuels my efforts to raise awareness but to also continue raising funds for research.

Yes, some days it feels like a drop in the ocean. For those days I have this quote taped to the inside of my closet, I see it every morning, a reminder that every drop matters.

We ourselves feel that what we are doing is just a drop in the ocean. But the ocean would be less because of that missing drop. – Mother Teresa

I don’t have time to doubt my efforts as I try to reach people, to raise awareness or to convince them to support our cause. I might be naive in thinking that one person can make a difference. The thing is, I truly believe that one person can make a difference, and that person is you.

I share our lives with you to raise awareness, to help others understand the daily life of someone that has Type 1 Diabetes. I also share our lives to show Logan and Zoe that people are powerful, people are kind, people truly care and that we all have the ability to make a difference in someone’s life.

We are not unique, we stand with the many others that advocate for a cure, whether it be for Type 1 Diabetes, Cancer, Parkinson’s, Epilepsy, Cerebral Palsy, Pediatric Cancer or Alzheimer’s (the list for a cure is long, no cause is to be omitted, we stand united with all that are in search for a cure). We appreciate you finding those few minutes in your day to think about T1D.

So thank you for sticking with me as I write to share, to educate and with your help, to raise awareness. I will run, ride and walk until there is a cure. Like any parent advocating for their child, I will not stop until I can give Logan that moment again, the moment that lasts a lifetime, where his life is untouched by T1D. It is then that we will celebrate, give thanks… and we will stay there forever.