The beeping of the alarm jolts me awake. My heart races as I fumble for my phone, eyes still bleary with sleep. It’s 2:07 AM. The screen lights up, and I see the familiar numbers—high, too high! My son’s blood sugar has spiked again. Another sleepless night begins.
It’s hard to explain to anyone who hasn’t lived it, but my life now revolves around five-minute intervals. Every five minutes, the Dexcom Follow app on my phone updates me with my son’s blood sugar levels. Every five minutes, I hold my breath, waiting to see if the numbers will stabilize, rise, or fall. Every five minutes, I make decisions—do I need to wake him? Does he need more insulin? Is it safe to go back to sleep? Will my alarms go off? Five minutes is enough time to hope, worry, and sometimes, to despair.
The New Normal
Before my son’s diagnosis in January 2024, five minutes was nothing—just a brief moment in time, hardly noticed. But now, each one is a lifetime. Each beep from the monitor can bring relief or fear, calm or chaos. This is the new normal. It’s not something you can fully understand until you live it. Every five minutes, life shifts, and you have to be ready to shift with it.
People often ask how I manage it all—how I keep going with so little sleep, how I don’t break down under the weight of constant worry. The truth is, I don’t have a choice. My son’s life depends on it. His health, his future, every aspect of his well-being is tied to those numbers on my phone. I am tethered to them, and by extension, so is he.
The Waiting Game
When his blood sugar is high, I have to wait five minutes to see if the insulin I gave him is bringing it down. Then, I wait five more to see how quickly it’s dropping. I watch the trend lines, my mind racing through the possibilities—too fast, and he could crash; too slow, and it’s not enough. And so I wait, my eyes fixed on the screen, willing the numbers to move in the right direction. Another five minutes pass. Then another.
When his blood sugar is low, the waiting is even harder. Five minutes to see if the juice box I gave him is raising his levels, five more to see if it’s enough, and then five more to be sure. Sometimes it feels like I’m playing a game I can’t win, where the stakes are too high and the rules keep changing. But there’s no pause button, no way to opt out. So I sit there, in the dark, watching the clock tick by, hoping that this time, it will be okay.
Sleepless Nights
These nights bleed into days, the exhaustion piling up like an invisible weight. Sleep is a luxury I can’t afford. I’m always half-awake, always listening for the next alarm, always ready to spring into action. When people ask me how I’m doing, I smile and say I’m fine. But the truth is, I can’t remember the last time I felt truly rested.
Each night transforms into an exhausting marathon of five-minute sprints, where time feels both fleeting and eternal. I find myself sitting up in bed, phone clutched tightly in my hand, a lifeline to the outside world that seems to pulse with urgency. I wait, my eyes glued to the screen, watching the notifications flicker like distant stars in a dark sky, while an undercurrent of worry churns in my stomach. The minutes stretch on, and sometimes I catch myself in a moment of clarity, realizing it’s already 2 AM. I’ve been awake since midnight, ensnared in this relentless cycle of checking, waiting, and checking again, as if the act itself might somehow alter the outcomes I dread. Each ping of the phone sends a jolt through me, a reminder of the responsibilities and uncertainties that loom ahead. By the time morning creeps in, I feel like a mere shell of my former self—exhausted, drained, and running solely on caffeine and sheer willpower. The ritual of brewing coffee becomes a lifeline, a momentary reprieve before plunging into the chaos of the day. Yet, there’s no time to rest or recuperate; the day ahead is filled with its own set of challenges and demands. I must navigate meals to manage, activities to meticulously plan, and all the while, I keep one eye on the numbers that never stop moving, fluctuating like a tide that refuses to settle. Each decision feels weighed down by the pressure of those numbers, and I find myself caught in a whirlwind of responsibilities, constantly balancing the needs of those around me with the ever-present anxiety of what the next update might bring.
Finding Strength in the Chaos
Amidst the exhaustion, uncertainty, and relentless five-minute cycles, there’s an unyielding thread of determination. Each sleepless night, every alarm that jolts me awake, is a testament to the fierce love I have for my son. This life isn’t easy—it’s messy, exhausting, and often overwhelming—but it’s ours.
As parents of children with Type 1 Diabetes, we learn to measure time not in hours or days, but in those fleeting, pivotal five-minute intervals. In those moments, we make choices that shape our children’s lives, even as we fight to reclaim pieces of our own.
So, to every parent living this life: you’re not alone. This is a journey of resilience, love, and strength, and though it may sometimes feel impossible, we keep going—for them, for us, for the hope of one day finding balance in the chaos. Together, we face the next five minutes, and the next, with all the courage we can muster.
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