on mothering diabetes
inside the door of my fridge
on the shelf designed to hold cheese
there are, instead, insulin-filled vials of hope
and a Glucagon kit
that should bring you back
if you should ever slip too far away from me
i keep nocturnal vigils
with foxes and other mothers
who also have to keep on keeping on
before the day breaks relief over me
with every meal and with every snack
i punch a calculator in my head
{ask me how much carbohydrate is in a slice of bread}
and i sing songs of
‘no, you cannot eat that now’
‘please, you must drink this now’
‘i think we are out of our depth, i think it is time to head to the hospital’
or else we might walk straight into trouble
{ask me how to keep a child alive}
and in this home, we know needles
and trying to find drops of blood
in the middle of the night
{and i am sorry i know it hurts, i am so sorry}
and we belong to the ones
who also have sharps containers
on their kitchen counters
and cupboards filled with swabs, and ketone strips
we watch numbers rise and fall
like bookies on Fridays
{ask me how to keep breathing when i cannot will 2.3 any higher}
we know the fear that words can carry
hypo. hyper. coma. death
and i am skilled at pinning fake smiles to my face
‘but what did you do to let this happen’
‘have you tried not giving him cake’
‘have you thought of giving him cinnamon instead’
the gift of my son being born at a time
where we know the hope in each glass vial
where each drop holds life
i know that cells might forget
how to keep you alive
but i will not ever forget, or ever give up
and for you, and for life, i am grateful.
my son, who is also autistic, was diagnosed with T1 Diabetes when he was 9 years old.
he is the most beautiful being, tender-hearted and gentle, and my greatest teacher.
today i am sending out love to anybody affected by this dreadful disease, but especially to the mums and dads, and grannies and grandpas, and carers who step in to be surrogate pancreas to small people.
and to all the health professionals who help us keep it together, thank you!
you have got this. it is fierce, but you are fiercer.
liezel graham 