What diabetes nights actually look like when sleep isn’t an option
The kind of night when everything stacks
Not the kind where you’re just tired.
Not the kind where you stay up too late scrolling your phone.
I’m talking about the nights where everything stacks at once.
When it stacks all at once
Saturday night.
I stayed up late working on vacation plans and finally put my phone down around midnight.
She had been high all day.
300s. 400s.
We tried everything, but for safety reasons, we couldn’t keep giving insulin.
This was only week two with her pump.
Week one was all highs.
Week two? Lows. Constant lows.
The day before she had five lows—three at school, two at home.
And now this.
Her pump went into limited mode.
Wouldn’t reset.
She came into our room half asleep.
And just like that… the night started.
Luckily, it was a Saturday night this time.
This is the part people don’t see about parenting a child with diabetes.
👉 What People Don’t See About Parenting a Child with Diabetes
Everything changed so fast after her diagnosis, and we’re still learning as we go.
👉 The Day My Daughter Was Diagnosed
What it feels like in the moment
I’m googling.
Trying to figure out next steps.
My eyes are burning. I’m exhausted.
My husband is talking, but it’s not helping.
We start bickering.
I just want to go to sleep.
But I can’t.
The thoughts running through my head
I am so tired.
Why does this have to happen now?
Why does my husband talk just to feel included but doesn’t actually make decisions?
I need to stop snapping.
She can’t change her diagnosis.
Just rip the bandaid off. Change it.
I’m glad I stayed up… because what if this didn’t happen until 3am?
Dexcom didn’t alert.
She’s already been high for so long.
Why it’s more than just being tired
This isn’t just exhaustion.
This is trying to make life-or-death decisions
when you can barely think straight.
Knowing if I mess up—
I could hurt my daughter.
Or we could go to sleep
and she could slowly get sicker.
All it takes is a few hours.
And I could be asleep.
From the outside, it probably just looks like I’m tired—
but it’s so much more than that.
👉 The Days I Look Fine… But I’m Not
👉 Focus, What Focus?
What drains me the most
Being the brains all the time.
Making all the decisions—right or wrong.
Because if I don’t make them… they don’t get made.
How I keep going anyway
I gather everything.
New pump.
Insulin.
Adhesive remover—because she needs it.
I change it.
Even though it messes up the timing I worked so hard to line up with her Dexcom.
Even though we only get a set number of pumps each month.
Even though this one change means we’re cutting it close.
And then we wait.
And finally… her blood sugar starts to drop.
I don’t sleep.
I check her every hour until morning.
What it really feels like
Nothing in the moment.
I go into problem-solving mode.
Not in the way people think.
I don’t sit there processing emotions.
There isn’t time for that.
Tired.
Exhausted.
Not fully coherent.
But still making decisions.
Still responsible.
Because this isn’t something I can pause.
It’s not something I can come back to in the morning.
Even when my brain feels foggy and my body is done…
I’m still the one responsible for getting it right.
And then morning comes
And then morning comes.
The house starts moving again.
The day doesn’t wait for me to catch up.
And neither do the responsibilities.
So I keep going.
Not because I feel strong.
Not because I handled the night perfectly.
But because there isn’t another option.
Tomorrow comes whether we are ready or not.
Rested or not.
The sun still comes up.
Photo by Jo Kassis
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