In an instant - everything changed.

Becoming a parent rewires you in ways you can't anticipate. It feels like part of your heart starts walking around in little bodies outside yourself, and so much joy, fear, and hope ties to them. After years of infertility, each of my five pregnancies felt like a miracle I could hardly believe. My kids—my five incredible blessings—filled our home with chaos, love, and purpose. But nothing prepares a parent for what happened in our family the summer of 2019, when a routine checkup turned into a life-altering crisis that tested my faith, my resilience, and the mindset I’d spent years building.

We’d just returned from a grueling cross-country trip from Utah back home with an 8, 7, 5, 3, and 2 year old. My 7-year-old had been asking for bathroom breaks nonstop during the 24-hour drive—a challenge I chalked up to a possible UTI. I added it to my mental list to mention at his upcoming wellness check, not thinking much of it. Life was already a whirlwind of activities: managing online school for my 2nd and 3rd graders during COVID, wrangling two preschoolers and a 2-year-old, and trying to keep the peace so my husband could work from home with some semblance of order. Like so many of you, we were stretched thin, navigating the strange, isolating days of the pandemic.

At the pediatrician’s office, I asked for a test to rule out an infection. The doctor actually pushed back, insisting he was fine, that testing wasn’t needed. But I felt I shouldn't let it go. “I’d rather be sure,” I said, expecting nothing serious. She relented, even saying, “I’ll say my goodbyes now because there won’t be anything wrong.” Minutes later, she returned, visibly shaken. His glucose levels were so high they maxed out the test—dangerously high. “He needs to go to the ER right now,” she said. “This is life-threatening. It looks like Type 1 diabetes.”

The words hit me with a force. Type 1 diabetes? I barely knew what it meant. I texted my husband, Kevin, the little I understood, and we scrambled to arrange care for our other kids so he could meet us at the children’s hospital, not really knowing what was going on or what to expect. An ambulance was called, but COVID protocols meant I couldn’t ride with my son. Watching my sweet boy, who was terrified of needles, get an IV and loaded into the ambulance alone was awful. I followed behind, feeling like I was floating outside my body, yet somehow I was able to be calm and focused on what needed to be done.

The ER was a blur of pokes, IVs, and harsh nurses. My son’s glucose was in the 600s, his body in severe ketoacidosis—a life-threatening state I hadn’t even known to watch for. He was hungry, scared, and too young to understand why he couldn’t eat until his levels stabilized. COVID rules ending up keeping Kevin out of the hospital; as only one parent was allowed. Once he could move, the OR staff treated Drew in full protective gear that made them look like astronauts, as his COVID test hadn’t cleared yet and they were taking every precaution. Alone with my son, I held his hand, wanting so badly to alleviate his pain and confusion and powerless to do so.

I had every reason to spiral. Anxiety has always been part of my wiring, and this situation was every parent’s nightmare. But I didn’t fall apart. Instead, I kept noticing what seemed like flickers of light in the darkness. A kind OR nurse who comforted my son. Videos from his cousins to distract him in the ER. The fact that I’d pushed for testing when I had no idea how serious it was, catching his condition just as his symptoms turned critical. The timing of his wellness check, which coincided perfectly with the onset of dangerous symptoms. A friend who’s a pediatric ER doctor sending us vital information and comforting assurance. My sister-in-law with Type 1 diabetes answering my endless questions with grace. These normally could have been seen as coincidences— but with my heightened awareness they felt like lifelines instead.

Looking back, I can see what carried me through wasn’t just chance. For years, I’d been training my mind to seek God’s light, to focus on hope and gratitude instead of letting anxiety and fear take the wheel which it was more naturally prone to do. In this crisis, that practice was able to kick in like muscle memory. Even on autopilot, my brain found the good, allowing me to be the calm, steady mom my son needed.

In the weeks, months, and now years since his diagnosis, fear is still part of my story—it’s natural when your child lives with Type 1 diabetes. But it doesn’t take center stage. I’ve learned to move through fear, not live in it. This is the power of intentional living: choosing to seek light, to lean into Christ’s transformative grace, and to shift your mindset toward what fills your life with purpose and joy.

This experience shapes everything I do at Michelle McGuire Studio. Every painting, email, design resource, journal, and mindset practice I share comes from this lived truth: we can choose how we navigate life’s storms. I’m not just sharing advice—I’m rooting for every mom out there striving to unlock more joy, to become the best version of herself. You don’t have to be paralyzed by fear or overwhelmed by challenges. By embracing intentional living and trusting in a higher power, you can find light even in the darkest moments. I’ve lived it, and I’m here to help you live it too.

Keep seeking the light,
Michelle

I've created a beautiful journal for you- to incorporate this simple, life-changing practice into your daily routine too.