As I walked up the stairs to tend to my son who has woken up for the second time tonight, I wonder if I will ever feel any familiar moments of normalcy as I used to know it. I have spent the past week looking through pictures that were taken before my son was diagnosed. In some way, I am combing through the pictures looking for the neon sign over my sons head flashing “Diabetic” in order for me to have caught things earlier. Of course there weren’t any tell tale signs months before his diagnosis, and looking through old pictures has been bittersweet. As I arrive upstairs tonight, I check Carter’s blood sugar and it’s high so I know this means another shot, and as a bedtime treat for his bravery, some unsweetened Vanilla Almond Milk. While going through the motions, Carter is thoroughly upset that not only has he been pricked to get the blood, now he is getting a shot, I sit feeling defeated by Juvenile Diabetes for a split second. Then I scoop my son up in my arms, hand him his Almond Milk and rock him for a little bit, while I cry. Before I know it he is asleep, and I gently place him down in bed and look at him, and that’s when it hits me…..my moment of normalcy. Right there in front of me, my peaceful sleeping baby boy, who in this exact moment doesn’t need anything from me. He’s content, and peaceful, and but for the needle in my hand I would never know he is diabetic. This brings me comfort, I think as a mother that is one of the biggest hurdles to get over. You don’t ever want your children hurt, or to feel as though they are different. I have been blessed to have birthed two of the most gregarious, matter of fact children I’ve ever known, and though they are both spit fires, the thought that having to be so cognizant so young might evolve into some ridicule once in school. I am comforted by the fact that I have 5 more years before this may become a reality and I will cross that bridge when I get to it. I revel in the moment as I sit there looking at my perfect child, who lives through all this hassle like a champ. I am so proud, yet so devastated at the same time. I realize why, in the past two months there have been countless nights when I have slept on the floor in my sons room; not particularly for the sake of catching a low blood sugar, but more so to have these quiet moments being in the presence of my son when we are able to just exist and find comfort in the quiet. No shots, no needles, no carb counting, just Carter, being Carter. Though there is a new normalcy these days, I cherish the moments when Carter can just be my little boy, not my little boy with Diabetes. It’s a welcome feeling to be able to be with him and not be thinking about insulin and planning my day around when he needs to eat next. There will be moments tomorrow when I will have to be in the new normalcy, but for now, I am going to sit here with my sleeping son and watch him sleep, enjoying the few hours of peace that he is finally getting.