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The Holy Ghost Gave Me a "Two for One"

Mothers do many things each day throughout a child's life to keep him/her safe.  We scold a toddler for straying into the street; we make children wear helmets; we set curfews and make sure teenagers return safely; we put up baby gates and lock up cleaning supplies; we give our children vaccinations; we clean the house, wash hands and disinfect wounds; we hand out vitamins and herbs; we fight at mealtimes about eating vegetables and avoiding candy; we put up fences and trampoline enclosures; we provide swimming lessons and lifejackets; the list goes on and on and on and on and . . .

As the mother of a child with three potentially fatal medical conditions, my quest for safety has been compounded many times over.  My 12 year old son, Taylor, was pretty much born with asthma.  When he was a toddler we discovered he was allergic to tree nuts and peanuts.  The peanut allergy is so severe that he could have a reaction to the mere smell of the stuff. So we read labels, keep a pharmacy of medications and carry an epipen, rescue inhalers, juice, fruit snacks and a glucogen shot everywhere we go because Taylor was also diagnosed with type one diabetes on April 21, 2011.  He was nine.  On the bright side, none of these conditions have to take his life.  We have the knowledge and medicine that may allow him to live a long and fulfilling life.  In spite of this knowledge, my worry over him is great, but I have learned a great deal because of having the opportunity to be his parent.

When Taylor was young every adult who may be taking care of Taylor was given strict instructions on what he could or could not eat.  These people included grandparents, aunts, uncles, Primary teachers and neighbors.  Everyone was shown how to read a food label and what to do should he show signs of anaphalysis.  As he got older, I taught him how to read the labels and he became, in part, his own protector.  Whenever he was not in my sight, and the phone would ring my heart would jump and I would wonder if this would be the call from the school or a friend telling me that Taylor was in trouble

 A couple of months following that diagnosis, I ran some errands for a while.  Taylor had instructions to call me with his blood glucose reading and how many carbs he would be eating for lunch and how much insulin he thought he needed.  He was very independent from the start, but when the nurses at the hospital are required to have two of them make the calculations and check the insulin draw, you double check with a nine year old.  He actually called me after the fact checked, calculated and eaten.  I felt like he didn't have quite enough insulin to cover the carbs he ate so I told him to have a little more. 

When I got home I checked in with him to see how he was doing.  He very tentatively told me that he knew I had told him to take more insulin, but he had a strong feeling that he shouldn't.   As it turned out, he had a low blood sugar shortly after eating.  Had he taken more insulin it could have been much worse.  Blood sugars that drop too low cause seizure, unconsciousness and eventually death.  He drank some juice rested for a few minutes then went on his way.  I gave him a big squeeze and told him that I was thankful he followed that prompting.  The voice of the Spirit trumps my voice every time. 

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