Of course it was on a night when my husband was at work (he’s a paramedic firefighter and works 24 hour shifts at the fire station). I woke up and took my blood sugar… 55. I stumbled through the dark hall (I didn’t want to turn on lights and wake any of my sleeping babies), and headed into the kitchen. After my snack of peanut butter pretzels and some juice, I went back to bed. As my blood sugar came back up, and my mind began to function again, I had one of those panicky moments.

What if I hadn’t woken up? Then what would happen? My four-week old baby needs to eat every 3 hours, how long would he cry before my four or two year old awakened to that newborn scream? Then what? Would my daughter know that now is the time we had talked about? That mommy needs help and she should call 911? Would she be able navigate through our dark house to find the phone? Would she remember the phone number for emergencies? Or maybe (hopefully) the neighbors might hear the screaming and crying of my babies and know that something is wrong? Then I think, I should really tell the neighbors that I’m diabetic, so that they know that about me. But for some reason that conversation never feels easy as we briefly chit-chat out front of our house, or wave hello while we check the mail or bring the trash cans out.

So I try to push those thoughts out of my head because it makes me crazy and gives me an ache in the pit of my stomach. Fortunately I have an amazing friend who calls my house each morning at 6 am to be sure that I’m up. She is able to remember my husband’s schedule and only calls on the days that he’s at work. So at least I know that if something were to happen to me that help would be on the way by 6 am. This thought allows me to finally fall back to sleep after that midnight low.

Laura