Sunday, December 16, 2012


So this morning, while stressfully attempting an infusion change in between nursing GV and dressing myself for Mass (which we were of course running late for), GW walks in on me in our bedroom and begins to cry.  Yelling "No, Mama don't!" he crumples onto the floor in complex anxiety and begins a chorus of extraordinarily loud "NO! NO! NO!"  Rousing HB to abandon his half-eaten bowl of cereal, I quickly found myself the center attraction of an early Sunday morning family circus.

Since delivery, I've been able to swap my infusion site from the side of my torso back to my abdomen because my uterus is no longer in the way and, frankly, I find my stomach to be a much easier place to reach for insertion purposes.  Unfortunately, however, in making this switch I apparently forgot to debrief my toddler and he was absolutely horrified to see me putting a needle to a formerly identified "big ouch" spot.  Attempting to put me in time out so as to stop the wreck from unfolding before him, GW pointed at my belly and sobbed "no big sharp on the baby!!"

Despite his sister being bundled in her chair beside him and my obviously (dear Lord I hope it is obvious) smaller belly, GW apparently doesn't quite understand that the baby is no longer in my belly... which I must admit is either enough to make a person collapse from laughter or in tears.  HB picked up the crumpled kid and pointed out that GV is safely out of the way of the trajectory of the needle for my infusion change.   Sniffing and wiping his tears away with the back of his sleeve, GW looked from his sister back to my stomach with a perplexed look and, with an expression of at least some understanding, he changed his tune:  "Oh...  NO BIG SHARP FOR MAMA!"

Ah well... I wish I could acquiesce his request, but alas diabetes reigns and no amount of toddler passion will dethrone it.  I love that he is already protecting GV, even if he doesn't exactly know where she is, and I appreciate that his attempts to save me too are at least sealed with a make it better kiss.  It might not be the cure for insulin dependence, but if I have to stab myself then I will happily accept his cherry on top of an otherwise unpleasant experience.

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