Ten years ago I got married to the love of my life.

He’s not perfect – neither am I – but he is pretty awesome.

Eight years ago I was diagnosed with type 2 diabetes.

My hubby had always been in my corner. He encouraged me as I went from couch potato to half marathon runner (x20!)

He ate the new low carb food I cook with no complaints, and supported me as I struggled to get healthier.

He was at the finish line when I did the WDW Glass Slipper Challenge – a 10k one day, half marathon the next.

In August, I got the devastating news that I was a type 1 diabetic, and would be on insulin for the rest of my life. He’s held me as I cried. He’s patient when I’m wrung out and completely exhausted by the disease.

I’m sick of it all. Some days I’m so frustrated I can’t see straight. He reminds me how fortunate I am to have the Omnipod and Dexcom.

When my blood sugar tanks in the middle of the night, he gets up with me and stays with me until I am back on track and stable.

I hate being sick. I hate being a burden. He never makes me feel like I am either.

All I want is to get back to running – but so far I haven’t found out how to do so without my blood sugars tanking. In the mean time, he walks with me.

I’m very blessed to have a husband who loves me in sickness. When I took those vows, I had no idea what it would mean to me.

They mean the world to me now.