A Letter From Santa!

What kid wouldn't cherish a personalized letter from Santa?

Mine certainly did. We had the Diabetes Research Institute Foundation help us solicit a special letter from Santa several years in a row. Santa always writes great letters, but with help from DRI's special elves, these were particularly personal and even included a bit about how well my daughter handles her diabetes.

The cute video above illustrates the program well.

If you love a little one who's expecting a letter from the North Pole, you can make it extra special for everyone involved. Here's the link to the page with all the details about how to make a small donation in exchange for a unique handwritten letter this season. I promise you won't be disappointed!

We Forgot

Scrolling through my facebook feed this morning, I ran across a mention of someone's 'diaversary.'  Which reminded me that yesterday was my daughter's.

Twelve years ago yesterday we were supposed to celebrate Christmas with my husband's family before traveling to my parents' for the holiday itself.  Instead, we found ourselves speeding to the emergency room at sunrise, taking a helicopter trip to the Children's Hospital by noon, and spending  the night in a hospital crib in the pediatric ICU.  We spent 6 days in the hospital, including Christmas.

Yesterday we celebrated Christmas at home, so that we may more easily travel to the other half of the family for the actual day.  So immersed were we in those preparations and festivities that the significance of the date never even crossed my mind.

It's an age-old question in the diabetes community: 'Do you celebrate your diaversary, and how?'  We've never celebrated, per se, but we usually talk about it.  We talk about the day's chain of events, which remains amazing all these years later.  We talk about the people who visited us, and reached out to us, while we were in the hospital.  We talk about how great Santa was to us that year.  We talk about the years that have passed since then and all the good things they've brought.  We've become more well informed.  Technology has improved.  We've benefited from the help of some great professionals.  My daughter has gone from a helpless baby to a kid who is an active participant in managing her diabetes.

Perhaps these conversations are a celebration of sorts.  By reminiscing, we're lifting up some positive things. We were strong enough to make it through that first day and week.  We were and continue to be surrounded by friends and family who care.  We've learned.  We've sought out and been helped by excellent endocrinology professionals.  My daughter is learning how to eventually take the reins as she continues to live with diabetes.

The season in which this milestone falls never allows much time to reflect- if we remember at all.  But better late than never, tonight at dinner I'll plan to reminisce about just a little bit of the past 12 years' journey.

Important Santa Information Revisited

Santa Knows. We Proved It. (A post from the past, but it bears repeating!)

One Christmas when my daughter was about 4, she asked me what would happen if Santa came down the chimney while she was awake with a middle-of-the-night low blood sugar.

After I'd blinked the tears out of my eyes, I reminded her of a favorite Christmas song.  It's probably the one from which she got the idea Santa would skip over her if she was awake, but I managed to turn it around. "Santa will know if we're awake.  But he also knows everything about you, including that you have diabetes. He'll just visit other houses in our neighborhood first, and come back when you're asleep."

The same conversation has taken place regarding the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny, with significant anxiety around the issue.

Should your household have similar concerns, I hope the following tale will provide some reassurance:

On Christmas eve, around 9 p.m., my child was dozing off with a blood sugar of 110.  A check at 10 had her up for juice to treat a 77.  By 10:45, she'd balanced out to a nice 118, and around 11 we were all dreaming of sugar plums.  Yet at 2 a.m., I was rummaging around Grandma's refrigerator for more juice to treat a 79.

We must have been asleep by 3 when my nephew claims to have been awakened by reindeer hooves on the roof.  But at 4:30, I was awakened by my daughter fumbling with her meter in the little guest room we were sharing.  She was 73.  More juice.

We all (magically) fell back to sleep, and when we emerged to the living room around 7 a.m., the stockings were filled!  Santa had come.  Not close to 10, or 2, or 4:30.   Despite so much wakefulness, he knew when we were sleeping, and that's when he came.

Maybe next year, if I'm really good, he'll put on a pot of coffee for me before he gets back in his sleigh.

Santa Knows. We Proved It.

One Christmas when my daughter was about 4, she asked me what would happen if Santa came down the chimney while she was awake with a middle-of-the-night low blood sugar.

After I'd blinked the tears out of my eyes, I reminded her of a favorite Christmas song.  It's probably the one from which she got the idea Santa would skip over her if she was awake, but I managed to turn it around. "Santa will know if we're awake.  But he also knows everything about you, including that you have diabetes. He'll just visit other houses in our neighborhood first, and come back when you're asleep."

The same conversation has taken place regarding the Tooth Fairy and the Easter Bunny, with significant anxiety around the issue. 

Should your household have similar concerns, I hope the following tale will provide some reassurance:

On Christmas eve, around 9 p.m., my child was dozing off with a blood sugar of 110.  A check at 10 had her up for juice to treat a 77.  By 10:45, she'd balanced out to a nice 118, and around 11 we were all dreaming of sugar plums.  Yet at 2 a.m., I was rummaging around Grandma's refrigerator for more juice to treat a 79. 

We must have been asleep by 3 when my nephew claims to have been awakened by reindeer hooves on the roof.  But at 4:30, I was awakened by my daughter fumbling with her meter in the little guest room we were sharing.  She was 73.  More juice. 

We all (magically) fell back to sleep, and when we emerged to the living room around 7 a.m., the stockings were filled!  Santa had come.  Not close to 10, or 2, or 4:30.   Despite so much wakefulness, he knew when we were sleeping, and that's when he came. 

Maybe next year, if I'm really good, he'll put on a pot of coffee for me before he gets back in his sleigh.