My Journey to Becoming a T1D Mom

Our Type 1 Diabetes Journey: From Overlooked Symptoms to Diagnosis

My husband once joked that I was born to be a Type 1 diabetic kid’s mom. The irony wasn’t lost on me. As a physical therapist and women's health specialist understanding nutrition, movement and hormones is my job.

Fast forward 15+ years, and I’m a mom to an 8-year-old and a 10-year-old, navigating life in the early days of COVID. My youngest, Ayla, started complaining of stomach aches, and her already picky eating got worse. Normally, I cooked healthy meals from scratch, but pandemic life had me cutting corners—running a virtual PT business, homeschooling, and covering shifts in a nursing home was all I could handle.

Ayla’s symptoms worsened. She stopped playing outside, instead curling up in child’s pose for hours. We had been to the doctor for years about her digestion issues, always reassured she was fine. I assumed this new phase was just a physical expression of COVID stress.

Then she started eating more… but losing weight. My mom kept telling me she looked thinner, but I couldn’t see it—she had always been tiny.

The Missed Signs & The Moment Everything Clicked

Once homeschooling ended, I launched a family hydration challenge to get everyone back on track. Ayla crushed us all. Even after the contest ended, she kept guzzling water. One night, I turned to my husband and said, “I think Ayla has diabetes.” He laughed, reassuring me that even my least diligent meal prep was still healthier than most.

I counted down the days to her physical. When we finally got in, we saw a nurse practitioner we’d never met (thanks, COVID). I listed Ayla’s symptoms and pointed out her bloated belly. The nurse smiled, “She just has great abs.”

I pushed back, explaining why I was worried, but I left feeling defeated. I had failed to find the answers.

On vacation days later, she could barely hike without stopping to pee or cry. Again, I told my husband, “I really think she has diabetes.” Again, he laughed.

Then we got home. The next morning, she fell getting out of bed. “Mom, something is really wrong.”

We rushed to the doctor, who ordered bloodwork. Ayla screamed in fear, so I promised her a donut if she could stay calm. That evening, as we sat by the pool, my phone rang.

"You need to get Ayla to the hospital immediately. She has diabetes."

I was dumbfounded. Her blood sugar was over 600, and her A1c was 16.

My first thought? It was the donut.

The doctor reassured me, “The donut didn’t do this.” But guilt hit me like a truck.

Life Would Never Be the Same

At the hospital, they told us, “She can eat whatever she wants. She just needs a little medicine first.”

I was furious. They were making it sound so simple. But I knew, deep down, that our lives had just changed forever.

The next day, we were sent home—overwhelmed, exhausted, and suddenly medical caregivers. I, a needle-phobic mom, was now the one injecting my daughter multiple times a day.

I was consumed with guilt, grief, and a million questions—what did I miss? Could I have caught this sooner? Was there anything I could have done to prevent it?

Our stories are all a bit different but in the end the same. We all leave the hospital spinning, exhausted and overwhelmed.

If you’re new to being a T1D mom, I want you to know—you are not alone. Right now, it might seem like there is nothing going right. Know that there is a community here for you. Reach out anytime. 💙