Today marks the first Fathers Day since our middle daughter, The Architect, 7, was diagnosed with type 1 diabetes (T1D). This subject comes up in my writing occasionally, but if youre just joining us, T1D (formerly known as juvenile or insulin-dependent diabetes) is an autoimmune disease that leads a persons pancreas to stop producing insulin, the hormone responsible for regulating blood sugar. It is not known what causes T1D, and unlike the much more common type 2 diabetes, it cannot be prevented or delayed with lifestyle changes.

Type 1 requires multiple daily injections of insulin through a syringe, pen or insulin pump and careful monitoring of blood glucose levels, lest the patient suffer from extremely high or low blood sugar, both of which can lead to short- and long-term complications.

In October, our lives changed forever as this diagnosis was handed down in a physicians well-rehearsed but kindly delivered speech in a hospital room on the 11th floor of Nationwide Childrens Hospital. Weve been trying to figure out the rhythm of life since then, and weve made some strides.

I say all this because during previous Fathers Days, I could have come up with a number of different adjectives to describe Mr. Roy: Hard Worker, Provider, Math Helper, Protector, Player of Board Games, Enforcer of Naps.

This year I have watched Mr. Roy acquire a new adjective: Advocate.

Merriam-Webster defines advocate as one who pleads the cause of another.

To some extent, all of us, when we become parents, are endowed with the title of advocate, but for parents of children with special needs, for example, or medical conditions, that title takes on a new meaning.

In that hospital room in October, as I struggled to the point of numbness with the burden of the unknowns that had been thrust upon us, Mr. Roy stepped into his advocacy role with vigor and grace. He didnt know any more than I did about the causes of diabetes or how to manage it; he didnt care. He knew that he loved his little girl and would stop at nothing to make sure she had everything she needed to survive.

He was the first one to give her insulin in her hospital bed, when I was too afraid Id mess it up; the one who read over all the papers and made appointments with the doctors and educators and school personnel.

Our first night home from the hospital, he was the one squeezing her finger to get a drop of blood at 3 a.m. when she was half-asleep and we had to make sure her levels werent tanking.

Every day, at every meal occasionally now, but especially in those early days he faithfully filled out the charts tracking her progress. He got on the phone with the diabetes educator when we noticed a trend that seemed off. Spoke with them late into the night when The Architect was sick and we were trying to manage blood sugar on top of sickness on top of two other kids.

More often than not, he is the one who calculates her insulin for every meal and gets her pen ready not because I cant or dont, but because he assumed the role like a bird somehow learns to fly after it leaves the nest. Hes willing to try things to improve her condition when I am paralyzed and sticking to the books.

A few months ago Mr. Roy went into a tattoo parlor on his lunch break to have the outline of a drop of blood tattooed on his forearm. Not because hes a cool, hip dad (although you are, Honey), but because he loves his girls inside and out.

In our marriage partnership, I like to think we do a pretty good job of balancing roles. Please dont get the impression from these words that I do nothing, because I, too, am learning. But to watch my husband adopt this new adjective has been a blessing I am especially celebrating this Fathers Day.

To all dads everywhere: Whatever your adjectives, thank you for the roles you take on. Its a blessing to celebrate you today.

Abbey Roy is a mom of three girls who make every day an adventure. She writes to maintain her sanity. You can probably reach her at amroy@nncogannett.com, but responses are structured around bedtimes and weekends.

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Abbey's Road: In celebration of Dad-vocates - The Newark Advocate

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