He’s going high at night again. I do not know why. I need to talk to the doctor. I need to figure out the software that will allow us to track his insulin and glucose levels online. I need to keep him safe despite his teenage self wanting more freedom, less mothering. We need to bring his A1C level down. And I’m so tired. Tired of not sleeping from worry. Tired of being too busy to focus on the most important aspects of my life. Tired of feeling guilty for finding fulfillment in working and then working so much I sometimes forget about the family’s needs. That’s the thing about being a mother: you’re either perfect or a failure. Especially when your imperfections can be attributed to paying attention to something other than your children. Like yourself.

Right now, his blood sugar’s high again and maybe I needed to pay more attention to what he was eating, what he was bolusing. Instead I was thinking about what I need to pack and do for yet another work trip. The cursory nighttime check revealed a level of 266 and I am suddenly brought to full awareness that I am not doing enough.

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