1399069_704098659618369_1570121790_oOn Tuesday night, I had an opportunity to participate in a documentary. The film is being done by some local college students, and it is focusing on type 1 and DAD’s. They came to our house, and I got to speak with them for about an hour. When we were done, I they asked if they could talk to Stella. I asked her if she wouldn’t mind, and she said sure.

For those of you that know my daughter, she is very shy talking to adults. There isn’t really anything more uncomfortable for her. But she was up for it, so she sat down. She was fidgeting. She was just giving yes/no answers. She looked very uncomfortable. And then an amazing thing happened. Major came to her. Put his head in her lap. And she started to rub his head. She loosened up a little. Her shoulders relaxed. She was at ease.

You see, these dogs are so much more to us than blood sugar detectors. They provide support. Comfort. A warm belly to lie on. A blanket. Unconditional love. No judgements. No criticism. Better mental health. The list is long.

10300051963_eb23d05765_bAnd then something else struck me. I have never heard my daughter speak about her disease. You see, we lived it together. We were both there. We deal with things together every day. Carb counts and insulin and bolus and alerts and and and and…

I got to sit there quietly while she retold her side of it. What scared her. What she hated. What she has to do every day. What she likes about Major. How she plays with him. What it’s like for her daily. Now I won’t say that it was profound or eloquently said, but it was her. There was no prompting. No scripting. She was still nervous, and still used short sentences. And still very shy. But she was brave. She was honest. She had her support team in her lap. And she spoke because she wanted to, not because we made her.

I was beaming with pride as to how far she has come, and how much she has grown up, how great she was doing in this very stressful situation. And I was reminded again that this little girl. My little girl. Deals with more going on in her little body, in her little head, in her daily life than I will ever know. She is my hero.

And I was sad. To hear her tell her story broke my heart. Tore me up. Took me right back to that day, 7/30/10. Made me want to rush in and scoop her up and give her a hug. But I didn’t. This was her time. This was her story. And she told it in her own words…

Team Blackdogsrule

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2 Comments

  1. Johanna DeGidio Reynolds

    Well done Stella! Sometimes hearing a child tell their side, makes us realize how T1 truly affects us.
    I’m looking forward to hearing what she had to say and how closely it correlates with how I felt as a Type 1 child.
    And bless you, Major, for giving Stella the strength she needed to open up and be heard. ❤️

  2. Wow! That made me cry! I would love to listen in on my daughter telling her story to someone. She is very vocal about diabetes and her life, but it makes me wonder what she would say if I wasn’t by her side. Thanks for the post. 🙂

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