This is our diagnosis journey

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Our journey with Type 1 Diabetes began quietly, slipping into our lives between the hustle and bustle of the holidays. While the world was holly and jolly with Christmas celebrations, and new year excitement, something else had begun to display what the new year would bring. At first, the signs seemed like nothing out of the ordinary — especially for an active, growing 11year old boy.

A little moodier than usual, I chalked it up to the early hints of pre-teenage angst. He had some muscle aches and pains, but he’s an active sports kid; bumps and soreness are part of our daily life with three sports. The tiredness and the hunger? Growing boys eat and nap like it’s their job. He grew in height and shoe size but oddly seemed to be getting thinner. 

Every explanation made sense… until they didn’t.

As winter break ended and he returned to school, the symptoms didn’t fade the way I expected. Instead, they became more consistent and nagging this might be more. His thirst was constant. It wasn’t just his excitement for his new Owala water bottles he received for Christmas. His energy dipped in ways that didn’t match his usual spark and silliness. He wanted couch time and his normally bright personality had seemed to dim. The boy with warm hands and heart who wears shorts year-round was constantly freezing. It was sometimes exhausting to walk a flight of steps.  I didn’t want to be the worrisome mom who brings his kid in for just some regular virus in the height of flu season. There was something inside me told me there was something more going on here. It was more than moodiness, more than germs, more than a growth spurt.  Even if it was just a virus, it was worth being evaluated. 

When calling the nurse line I went through a quick list of symptoms, all with other justifiable explanations, and was told there wasn’t much that correlated to urgency, but I could bring him in to be seen. I scheduled an appointment for after school the next day because there was no fever or other “contagious” reason to miss school.  

He came home from school that day rapidly declining with what was presenting as severe exhaustion, loss of appetite, sore throat and labored breathing.  I knew we were headed to the right place for answers, but what could it be?  Does he have low iron or is this Mono? Did he drink too much water and wash out his sodium levels? Could this be Covid or flu?  What about a bladder infection?  Of course, I took to google earlier in the day with all the symptoms I was collecting in a note for the Pediatrician and saw a few more serious diagnosis’ but dismissed them as no chance, not my kid.  

We walked through the symptom journey with our attentivepediatrician who was evaluating him while asking us both questions. She had come to a conclusion with a urine dip test and the conversation. The air in the room changed. The words “type one diabetes” arrived like a heavy stone dropped into still water, sending ripples through everything we thought we knew. This was life-altering. Unexpected. Impossible to fully grasp in that instant.

We swiftly went on to Children’s after collecting a few items at home. We were immediately admitted to hospital, thankfully our Pediatrician had called ahead for him.  That hospital became our new world for those first few days — a place of beeping monitors, hourly checks, new vocabulary, needles, insulin, and gentle but information-packed conversations. I watched my brave guy face finger pokes, multiple IV lines, and unfamiliar routines with a courage no 11yearold should ever have to muster, yet somehow, he did.  

In the middle of the shock of a life altering autoimmune diagnosis, something else emerged: resilience. His and ours together. I wanted to keep the environment calm, our own little bubble while we adjusted to what would be our new life. Constantly reminding myself, we can do this.  I can do this.  We’ll figure it out.  

Surrounded by compassionate educators, nurses, and physicians, we learned — together — how to count carbs, check blood sugars, give insulin, and navigate a world we never thought we’d need to understand. It was overwhelming at times, like drinking from a firehose, but it was also hopeful. We realized that although this diagnosis changes life, it doesn’t take away the joy, the childhood, the future.

The first night home was emotional and exhausting. I checked on him more times than I can count, balancing fear with a steady reminder to myself, we got this. Each good number felt like a tiny victory. Each off number was a reminder that this is a marathon, not a sprint — a new rhythm we’re learning day by day. Highs and lows will balance.  We have a plan.  We will adapt as needed.   We’re determined not to give up. 

Through everything, he has remained completely himself: funny, kind, athletic, silly, curious, and endlessly brave.

Type 1 diabetes is now part of our story, but it does not define him — or us. It is a challenge, yes, but also a testament to strength, love, science, and the community we are surrounded with. This diagnosis simply reminded us how deeply we are loved. How strong our circle truly was. How much support we were provided from the very moment we learned our fate. 

Our family members immediately surrounded us with unwavering love and reassurance, helping us navigate the hospital stay, develop a plan for the future, and providing a sense of steadiness and deep support. Our friends and sports team families quickly rallied as well, asking questions, wanting to learn more about diabetes, and offering kindness in ways big and small so that I did not ever feel alone in the process. At school, the nurse became an essential partner—calm, knowledgeable, and attentive—providing not just medical support but also peace of mind throughout each day. It was comforting the way our broader school community came together with empathy and encouragement, creating an environment where managing Type 1 diabetes felt less overwhelming. Where care, flexibility, and understanding could always be counted on. We have met so many wonderful resources, joined up with other T1D families in our community, and we continue to learn each day. 

The first few weeks were tough, but we survived. Though, we have both asked how many more shots today? This honeymoon phase? It’s not as pleasant as it sounds. There have been many sleepless nights. As the mom, I felt like I had a newborn again.

We decided from the first weekend home we wouldn’t let anything hold him back. Baseball, soccer, snowboarding, school and life. I’m keeping a closer eye and there are a few more breaks and extra steps to life but nothing has been impossible. 

We’re just over 60 days now, and he’s still ever resilient, and thrilled to be on a pump. Less needles and less sleepless nights. 

This is our journey. Check back for more soon.

So what is Type 1 Diabetes?