Clomid.

Last round of Clomid starts today. I told Derek the other day that after this, we need to start looking into adoption. I have no idea if there are any other options besides Clomid, but I know I don't want to do IVF or IUI or anything like that. Those don't always work and cost a lot of money. I would rather spend the money on adoption and know for sure that I will have a child, even if it isn't my biological child.

We went to church yesterday, finally. I just told Derek we were going and he said okay. We went to Grace Pointe and really liked it. It's a very new, fairly young church so there's still some stuff that they're working out, but overall, the service was great. And the best part is, it's 3 minutes from our house. And there's a cop to stop traffic. The sermon was exactly what I needed to hear this week. That God isn't ashamed of us, no matter what happens in our lives, and He's bigger than our problems.

Yesterday was my 19th diabetic anniversary. I usually feel like I need a cookie cake or a party or something every year. For some reason Derek thinks its a stupid idea that I need to be congratulated with a cookie cake, when I eat cookies all the time. I told him he was missing the point. I'm doing awesome. I work hard at keeping my numbers where they should be, and as a result, I have no diabetes related complications. And for THAT I feel like I deserve a cookie cake. Because it isn't easy to stay in such tight control. What would be easy was if I completely ignored the fact that I'm diabetic and just did whatever I wanted. Yes, I eat cookies and candy all the time. But I calculate the carbs and take the insulin for it. What he doesn't see is that I'll cut out something else later to account for the carbs of the candy. So it only seems fair to celebrate a day that, 19 years ago, wasn't so awesome. It's one day that I can remember more clearly than any other day in my childhood. My blood sugar was over 400 when I checked into the hospital and I weighed 36lbs. You could see every bone in my body and I felt like crap. Lots of people came to see me that night. My parents weren't there. It was Mary's birthday party and they were with her. My dad was supposed to be there, but when Mrs.Robin showed up with Alex, he left her there with me. Poor Mrs.Robin. I was hooked up to an iv and it sucked. I was 8, almost 9. April 29th, 1993 is a day that I will never forget.