Shots

Here are some random thoughts and stories about giving my daughter her shots. One interesting thing I have noticed as I talk to people (friends, aquaintances, my hair dresser, the person behind me in line at the store . . . I talk to everyone about this these days. Cheap therapy.) about my daughter's diabetes, is that they are always much more horrified by her having diabetes when they realize that she has to get shots.

The first shot
What I mean here, is the first shot that I gave her. It was something that I kind of wanted to put off. Forever. But I knew that once we left the hospital it would be primarily my responsibility, so I knew I had to learn it. I actually purposely did it when my husband was gone taking care of our other kids, so that I wouldn't have the added pressure of him watching. With the help of our very supportive nurse, I drew the insulin up, prepped her arm . . . and then I didn't know if I could make myself do it. But I did. And then I didn't know whether to laugh for the sheer relief that the first time was over, and I had really done it, or cry because I had poked a needle into my little daughter. Really horrible. But somehow a triumph, too. Because now I knew I could take care of her.

I hate you
One of the worst moments of this whole diabetes adventure was the day that my daughter looked at me right after I'd given her a shot and said, "I hate you!" Even though I knew she didn't mean it -- that what she really hated was shots, I still burst into tears. It really hurts me to have to do something over and over that is so terrible that it would make her say that.