Growing Up

Eight months since entry, wow.  I started this particular draft in June, one of many, most of which are not even half finished

I now find that, although I am still writing entries into my blog I am finding it harder (due to the potential impact on K from a confidentiality point of view) to hit 'Publish'. No-one in our real life knows about this blog (to my knowledge anyway), I've never discussed it with anyone except M - even K doesn't know about it. Rather I began it as a way of connecting with others across the globe facing the same trials as we are.  I also, I think, wanted to scream into the wilderness about my anger, hatred, fear, confusion (insert random negative noun here, I've probably had them all) about K developing D.

Anyway, on to the post, rather two posts in one, the good and the bad;

K is growing up!

A major event in the last few months - Confirmation.

Its would be within the normal bounds of probability if you, dear reader, were to assume that we (being in the Republic of Ireland and with a Gaelic surname) are Catholic (of the sometimes practicing kind); and if you made that assumption you would be correct.

Therefore, on reaching the age of 12 and being in 6th class in Primary School this year K made her Confirmation (a religious ceremony to highlight the transition to adulthood, effectively making the promises yourself that your parents made on your behalf at Baptism)..

Religion aside this is perhaps the most obvious ceremonial marker of change from child to adulthood that we go through and K was suitably excited...

We had a lovely ceremony (minus the boys until the restaurant afterwards - due to the 120 kids being confirmed it was parents. sponsor and grandparents only).

Post ceremony pic

K and her cousin posing

K showing me her religious artwork

Yes my daughter is growing up.  While K will always be my daughter, she is almost already no longer my child. Rather she is becoming her own person, while I am beginning to age into grateful irrelevance.

I am happy with this, although I can now really understand the meaning of the word bittersweet.

And yet I know we are not there yet. It will be a few years yet before we can shake off the mantle of care (if ever).

 

The Bad

 

In the last few months K has been careless of D.  In March she had her highest ever hbA1c, requiring a return appointment 2 months later which, although lower, still seemed unnecessarily high.  

 

D is a pain for a child (to understate woefully).   They aren't quite aware of the seriousness of it and would (of course) rather just run and play and eat whatever without sticking a pin in their finger or calculating a bolus for every simple piece of food to enter their mouth.

 

In the last few months K tends to 'forget' to test; and, (more seriously?), forgets to bolus. (There is a lot of denial going on).

 

We have found that we were constantly having to ask K had she bolused and, in the last few weeks when she was super high I asked to look at her pump - although she had said she had bolused no buttons had been pushed!!

 

Things came to a head somewhere about a week ago.   My mother had been minding the kids for the day (M & I being in work).      When I went over K's figures for the day I saw she was super high (15's - 20's, 270-300).   When I went over the pump readings I saw that not only did she not bolus, she didn't even correct the highs!!

 

I lost the rag.

 

I spent a good 10 minutes berating K and giving out about the seriousness of what she was doing.   I referred to the silliness of not correcting ('referred' sounds slightly calmer than how it probably came out at the time).  I also reminded K that, yes D is a pain, but it still needs to be minded and all it takes is tests & bolus; that she will feel better in herself if she keeps up the routine.  I know that D is so much more than this on so many levels but I was trying to downplay the maintenance effort while emphasising the seriousness of not minding herself.

 

I ended the tirade by banning her from her tablet for the night; only at this point did I seem to fully engage her attention and my word was she upset.

 

K hates D, hates to the point of sometimes refusing to acknowledge its existence.  Seventy per cent of the time she minds herself but unfortunately 70% isn't enough.    And I hate, hate, hate having to give out to her about something she didn't ask for.   And yes I know there are more constructive ways to try get your child to test/bolus and we have tried them and have mainly relied on them for the last four years. And yes I hated, hated, hated myself for banning her from her tablet.

 

My mam said afterwards she was glad to see me giving out; does this mean I returning to more traditional 'directional'  parenting rather than the more modern 'guidance' methods?   I really don't know (and don't hate me for my anger that night - 'I don't know how to do this' could be my parenting phrase of choice). 

 

I suppose I am just trying to get K healthily to an age where either there will be better treatment (a cure?) or where she will see the benefits of self-care and do it herself.

And parenting is not a popularity contest; if K blames me for D but minds herself I can live with that, if K hates me for this but minds herself I can live with that also. 

 

 

But....Back to the Good

 

A week later and K's numbers are better - I asked her about this and she smiled and said it was because I was so angry that night!!

 

I don't know how long this will last, however because she minded herself so well over the last few days she got to go with her aunt & cousins this weekend to Wexford!!   K has had sleepovers before but always within emergency driving distance (e.g. 10-20 minutes away).   Roslare Strand is a good 2 hours away by car.  K went down Thursday & is due back today (she even did a set change herself (which she hates doing) down there when her set fell out).  

 

And yes I'll be sneaking a look at her numbers when she gets back.