Life, Uninterrupted, with Kerri
Follow Kerri as she proves there's more to life than diabetes.

“What we want you to take note of is any change in sleeping patterns. Too much sleep, too little sleep … just be aware of what the schedule has been.” The nurse looked over her glasses at our bleary-eyed selves. “HER sleeping schedule. Not yours.”

Well that’s a weird transition to make. Since the birth of our daughter, both my husband and I have had to adjust to speaking on behalf of our child at the pediatrician appointments. It may not sound like an adjustment, but when you go to the doctor on your own, you get used to talking about your own health. For a person with a chronic illness like diabetes, chatting with a medical professional about the in’s and out’s of your illness becomes second nature. 

So there’s something a bit … odd about bringing BSparl to the pediatrician appointment and not talking about blood sugars, basal rates, or A1Cs. Instead, it’s all about the baby girl, and what’s going on in her medical world. 

BSparl has been to the doctor about three times since her birth – once a week after she was born, once at the month mark, and then again at the two month mark.   During each appointment, the doctor weighs the baby, measures her length, and runs some tests on her overall development. All of these numbers are hers and hers alone – no mention of mommy’s fasting numbers or daddy’s blood pressure readings. For the first two appointments, I was happy to have the focus on my daughter. I like our pediatrician and I like knowing that there is a whole team of doctors on call for the well-being of our kid.

But the third appointment for BSparl included her first round of vaccinations.

And I never wanted to be the patient more in my life than at that moment.

I thought I was going to be able to hold tough during this appointment. I knew she was getting three shots that day, but in my mind, baby is as tough as mommy. With needles a part of my daily routine, I thought I’d be able to handle the needles being turned to my daughter instead of towards me.

But as soon as the first injection went into her chubby little thigh, her bottom lip pouted out to an impossible angle and her earnest cry filled the doctor’s office. 

“Whaaaaaaaaah!!!” she wailed. And I felt myself welling up. 

“What we want you to take note of is any change in sleeping patterns. Too much sleep, too little sleep … just be aware of what the schedule has been.” The nurse looked over her glasses at our bleary-eyed selves. “HER sleeping schedule. Not yours.”

Well that’s a weird transition to make. Since the birth of our daughter, both my husband and I have had to adjust to speaking on behalf of our child at the pediatrician appointments. It may not sound like an adjustment, but when you go to the doctor on your own, you get used to talking about your own health. For a person with a chronic illness like diabetes, chatting with a medical professional about the in’s and out’s of your illness becomes second nature. 

So there’s something a bit … odd about bringing BSparl to the pediatrician appointment and not talking about blood sugars, basal rates, or A1Cs. Instead, it’s all about the baby girl, and what’s going on in her medical world. 

BSparl has been to the doctor about three times since her birth – once a week after she was born, once at the month mark, and then again at the two month mark.   During each appointment, the doctor weighs the baby, measures her length, and runs some tests on her overall development. All of these numbers are hers and hers alone – no mention of mommy’s fasting numbers or daddy’s blood pressure readings. For the first two appointments, I was happy to have the focus on my daughter. I like our pediatrician and I like knowing that there is a whole team of doctors on call for the well-being of our kid.

But the third appointment for BSparl included her first round of vaccinations.

And I never wanted to be the patient more in my life than at that moment.

I thought I was going to be able to hold tough during this appointment. I knew she was getting three shots that day, but in my mind, baby is as tough as mommy. With needles a part of my daily routine, I thought I’d be able to handle the needles being turned to my daughter instead of towards me.

But as soon as the first injection went into her chubby little thigh, her bottom lip pouted out to an impossible angle and her earnest cry filled the doctor’s office. 

“Whaaaaaaaaah!!!” she wailed. And I felt myself welling up. 

“Almost done? We’re almost done, sweetheart. Almost done.” I was soothing myself as much as I was soothing her, wishing that the needles were plunging into my thigh instead of hers.

“WhaaaaAAAAAH!” Her cries increased, and my heart broke. 

“Okay, we’re all set.” The nurse put the needles into the sharps container and handed me a tissue to wipe the tears I didn’t realize had rolled out. “She’s going to be fine, Mom. And you’ll be okay, too.”

“I’m sorry. I just hate to see her upset. I thought that because I was fine with needles for me that I’d be okay with needles for her. I was dead wrong.” I paused. “Do they all cry at this age?” I asked, wiping my eyes.

“They do. It’s okay. She might be upset for a few hours, but she’ll calm down soon. I promise.” The nurse patted my daughter on the arm and did the same for me.

My daughter was still crying, but quieter. Her bottom lip remained jutted out, though, just in case I doubted that injections were crummy.

“So we’re all done for now?” I started to pack up our stuff.

“Sure thing. We’ll see you at the four month appointment. When she gets another round of injections.” She smiled ruefully. “It will be okay.”

Oh how I wish I were the patient again.