In the first few months since Superboy was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes, I spent a lot of time online. I read research articles about this disease and poured and poured over likely causes, and cures that are still being tested, thought up, and hypothesized. I realized that these things weren't giving me the closure I craved because it was still so unsure. We don't know why these children, teens and adults are predisposed to have Type 1 Diabetes.
The one thing that helped, was finding other parents who had children with diabetes, or people who had diabetes themselves, and hearing their stories, and how they coped with it. I loved reading about their successes, as well as their struggles. I had never been brave enough to find these people in person, but as we are moving forward, and as I feel more empowered as I learn more about Superboy and his diabetes, I wonder if other people would want to hear our story as well. So here we are!
We are currently going through the process of switching over from purely giving shots to manage his diabetes, to getting an insulin pump. So feel free to come along for the ride, relive our successes and mistakes as we figure out what we are doing with this whole diabetes thing, and how we fit it into our family.

This is Superboy.

Superboy is the toughest, bravest, gentle-est, sweetest, strongest, happiest, most wonderful little two year old that I know. What makes him all these things? Oh, a combination of this and that. But most of all being diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes one year ago from this coming month, has made him shine brighter than I would have realized that a two year old could.
A year ago from today, we were so unaware of how much our lives would change. We were naive and blissfully happy with our newborn baby. Superboy was so excited to be a big brother. We talked about it constantly before little Dash was born. Superboy was about a year and a half, and though he wasn't used to not being the center of attention he was adjusting to sharing the spotlight with his new little brother really well. After Dash was born we had lots of family members in and out and running around, so life hadn't quite settled down yet. Little did I know that the chaos of having other people around was much preferable to the chaos waiting for us around the corner.
My mom was the last family member still staying with us. She was only staying for three weeks after Dash was born, and during her last week of her stay we started noticing some strange happenings with Superboy. He had always been so active and happy. He was a very predictable little guy and any strange behavior should have been super noticeable right from the beginning. But, I wasn't exactly at the top of my game. I had a two week old baby, I was sleep deprived, and physically exhausted. The change in Superboys demeanor and physical appearance happened on a quick, though gradual enough period of time that I wasn't catching all the warning signs. In just five days he went from super happy, running around, couldn't hold still for longer than a minute little man, to a lethargic, constant soggy diaper bum, bipolar little toddler. He couldn't last longer than 10 minutes without a cup of water. He needed a diaper change almost every hour and constantly we weren't fast enough to catch that his diaper was full before we were sopping up leakages. My mom and I were baffled, and unsure of what to do. My husband (who was in school) said we needed to keep an eye on him, but to give it more time before we went to a doctor.
On the last day of my mom's visit I had put Dash down for a nap after being up with him since 3 in the morning, woke Superboy up at 8 am since he normally never slept in that long. I carried him downstairs and tucked his little body into the couch so that I could get him his breakfast. He was definitely not acting like my Superboy, and I was really noticing it that day. He wouldn't sit up on his own, he just wanted to lie there, and every time I asked him what he wanted to eat all he could do was gasp for milk. His breathing sounded awful, and that is when I started getting worried. I really looked at him then. He was way too skinny, he was not fat before, but man, his little baby chubbiness had completely faded away. His eyes were sunken into his head, and his breath had this strange fruity smell, and he had nothing to drink but water all night long. My mom encouraged me to immediately get him in for a visit with a doctor. She said that if they ever started having labored breathing you just needed to rush him right in. So we packed him up, my mom took little Dash, and told me that just in case I should bring my pump with me in case I wasn't back to feed little Dash on schedule. And I am so glad I brought that pump!
We tucked Superboy into the car with a cup of red kool ade (luckily it was sugar free? Though at this point I don't know how much it helped) And off we drove to the doctors office. About five minutes into the drive he throws up all over himself. Red vomit, because of the kool ade. Yay. He didn't even act like it bothered him, which is so unlike him, he hated wearing wet sticky clothes and would always strip down during meal times when he would spill on himself. When we pulled into the doctors office I got him out of his seat, took off his clothes and wrapped him in a blanket. We went inside, and the place was packed. No chairs in the waiting room were available, and Superboy's breathing at this point was so ragged, and a few times I would have to shake him to make him continue breathing. We started our wait standing off in the corner, but after about 10 minutes I sat on the ground trying to cradle his little frame closer to me so I could make sure he kept taking regular breathes. One of the doctors kept peeking at me from around the door frame and I could tell she knew how worried and frantic I was getting. She put off her next assigned patient and beckoned me back to a room. All this doctor did was bend close to hear him breathe, and I am sure she smelt his breath and asked if he had been going to the bathroom a lot. That was it, the next thing I know she has called for an ambulance and they were checking his blood sugar, which was far too high for their meter to even recognize.
The first medics on the scene (other than my wonderful doctor and the nurses) were from the fire department. They had him hooked up to an oxygen mask and they were all trying to explain to me what they thought was going on. They had all reached the same verdict, Diabetes. My sleep deprived self was trying to process all the new information and was trying to answer all the questions I was being asked, when I started hearing this funny sound. This weird gasping choking sound, I quickly looked at Superboy to make sure he was ok, when I realized that sound was coming from me. I hadn't realized I was crying, and when it finally dawned on me, I was a mess.
The ambulance arrived we all trooped out, me carrying my little boy hooked up to an oxygen tank, escorted by two fire men, my doctor and two nurses. We probably looked like a sad version of a parade. It was around this time when my brain started functioning again. I knew I needed to contact my husband, and my mom. This was going to be a longer trip to the doctors than I had planned. My doctor, or Superboy's doctor really, quickly volunteered to call all the people I felt needed to be notified. I left my car keys at the doctors for my husband to pick up and we all got loaded up into the ambulance. Poor little Superboy looked so tiny when he was strapped onto the stretcher in the ambulance. He wasn't quite two years old. He had always been so tall for his age that people often thought he was older, gosh, I often treated him like he was older too. But looking at his little frame with all those belts strapped around him, with his hand and his feet being constantly poked while trying to check his blood sugars over and over, trying to get a reading that wasn't labeled HIGH was becoming more and more than I thought I could handle. We get to the children's hospital were we were immediately surrounded by doctors and nurses. Since he was still so little they decided to put in a catheter so they could monitor his urine output. This was the moment where Superboy decided he had had enough. Even though this little guy was months away from being two it took one person per limb to hold him down to insert the catheter. Then again it took one person per limb as they put in IV's and other tubes. He was screaming and calling my name and it took all I had to stay in that room and hold his head and tell him he was such a good boy, and just to hold still for a minute longer. Hands down, that was the hardest moment of my life.
They wrapped his little hands up in wash cloths with tape so he couldn't pull on his IV's, and slowly they left the room one by one. And we were sent up the the ICU. After all the excitement Superboy was worn out. He was mad and just wanted to be held. The nurse helped me pick him up, arrange all his tubes and cords and I rocked him in my lap in the rocking chair as I just cried and cried. Superboy's dad came in around then.
My poor husband had no idea what was going on. He was in class when he got the call from Superboy's doctor. He didn't know the number and had let it go to voice mail, after class when he checked it and heard the message that said something like "Your wife and son have been sent in an ambulance to the children's hospital. Your wife left her car here at the pediatricians office, and you can meet them at the hospital whenever you can make it." He had no idea what was going on, and I was not answering my phone. He came as soon as he could. He had a friend from school drop him off at the doctors to get our car, then he drove up to the hospital and was shown with a few brief explanations to our room in the ICU. Superboy was suffering from DKA. And my husband, being a medical student, knew exactly what was happening to Superboy, where I had no idea. He slowly explained everything to me, he even drew me little diagrams when I got confused. He then held Superboy while I wrote down a list of items I wanted him to bring me  from our house, pumped some milk for baby Dash, and grabbed a bite to eat. Then he took the milk, my list and drove home to give the updates to my mom, his parents, and his professors at school to get some time off so we could come to terms with everything and our new lives together.
The rest of that day was kind of terrible, but was a relief at the same time. We knew what was wrong, and we knew he wasn't going to die. I just sat in that rocking chair with my little boy thinking about all the people I knew with diabetes, which was admittedly very few, and that even though they did have some restrictions, they were alive. I couldn't get over this weird feeling that he was alive. I have always been one of those people who doesn't want to sink into despair so I try and find that silver lining, and the only one I could grasp at that moment was he was alive. I was trying to count my blessings, to help me to feel better, and the only one I could think of was he was alive. I know, weird.
My mom came a bit later, gave my arms a break, brought me some clean clothes. I had been sprayed with both vomit and urine. I was a mess. Luckily the hospital was great, they assigned us a little 'suite' that included a room with a bed, closet space, a shower, laundry facilities, a tv and little kitchen for our stay while Superboy was in the ICU. I didn't realize how much that space would mean to me over the next few days. A place I could go when someone who I knew, and someone who loved Superboy would come and stay with him so I could sleep, or go cry, or take a shower without worrying who would see me. Thank you hospital for that amazing insight, and compassion towards your patients and their families.
Little Dash was not allowed in the hospital. A baby who was only a few weeks old did not have a strong enough immune system to keep him safe from all the different germs and bacteria found in hospitals. So we took rounds. I was the day shift with Superboy, and Dad (husband and father) would sit with Superboy at night. My mom had to fly out that next morning, so our wonderful friend took Dash in until Dad's mom was able to come down to help out later that day. I am still amazed at the wonderful help and support we received during this time of our lives. We stayed in the ICU for two days then moved to one of the regular rooms on a different floor. The first two days were intense. He was being checked and poked every hour, he was so lifeless and tiny seeming. The first night he wasn't allowed any food or drink as they tried to see how bad he was, and he seriously looked like a little raisin. Dried out and crusty. The nurses would come in with a tiny little sponge on a stick to wet his parched little lips and he would eagerly grab it and suck all the moisture out of it. Then his weak little baby voice would ask "again?" I think it tore the nurses hearts out because each of them couldn't resist filling it up and handing it back to him three or four times.
The next day was better. He was allowed to eat and drink finally, and he has never eaten as much of his meals has he did in the hospital. He wolfed everything down. This was the first time I had ever heard of carb counting. They brought in a little menu, with the carbs written down next to it, and I would choose, with Superboy's help, what food he wanted. It was his favorite thing to choose a fruit AND a dessert with each meal! He was starting to act like himself again. He wanted to walk around the ICU, he said hi to all the nurses. They dressed him up in little scrubs, and let him watch all his favorite shows. His hands were still wrapped up so he couldn't do anything with them, but he didn't seem to mind too much. He still wasn't feeling up to more than walking down a few doors then back to his room anyway, and then each time he would be exhausted.
The third day was even better. We moved up to the regular rooms. Superboy got to have some of his tubes and cords taken out, and one hand was unwrapped. He got to play in the play rooms. And he didn't look like a little skeleton anymore. He did take a lot of naps, and for long chunks of time too, but he was acting so much better than he had acted for about a week, that I thought things were going to go back to normal. That is when we started meeting with the diabetes educator. I quickly saw that life was never going to be 'back to normal' and we were going to find a new normal. We were taught how to check his blood sugar, and we practiced a few times on ourselves. I was the nervous one, and I was the one who needed practice. Dad had it all down, and said that he was almost excited to give shots on a daily basis. Blood sugar tests were hard enough for me, but when it was my turn to give him his insulin for his food I was, once again, a mess. I was convinced I would never be able to hold down this screaming child who knew what that little syringe meant, and did not want it any where near his little body. But I did it, and I have done it thousands of times since.
We left the hospital the next day. Superboy was excited to be away from all the doctors and all their 'pokes' and I was a wreck. Luckily my mother in law kept me sane. She stayed up at nights with Dash, only waking me to feed him, and she helped my hold down Superboy to give him his shots. She cooked a months worth of freezer meals and kept my house in working order for the about a week before she finally had to go home. She was wonderful. I do not know how I would have survived with out her. I have the best people in my life.
Superboy is alive. And he is, SUPER. Not many one year old's have had to live through what he has. Over this last year we have had our highs and lows, literally, and we have conquered them. We are survivors and we are determined to keep going, being happy, and loving this life we have together. Superboy is going to go far in life, just wait and see.