This morning seemed like it was going to be another regular morning. Most people my call my life extremely simple and uncomplicated. And of course, if you were to ask me it is just a cumulus of convoluted, entangled, and completely inseparable issues and considerations that are unstoppable. But, despite the dichotomy and differences, its all good. I know how it really is. So, another regular morning, right? Nope! Not a chance.
Commonly, as it is normal for people who hardly ever sleep, early in the morning, as I get ready to take care of the day's errands and my planned fun times with my daughter, I have to have a diet coke. I'm not going to lie. When I don't have my diet coke it is hard to stay on the top of my game. So call me dependent or simply a busted, tired mom, either way... I have to have a Diet Coke in the morning. So, here I am driving to my local Burger King to get my morning Diet Coke, and my daughter decides she wants to have breakfast at Burger King... But she wants to go inside! This immediately sounded like a tricky morning already. I was tired as usual and thinking about the logistics of having a three and a half year old diabetic toddler have breakfast at a local fast food. I knew this was just not going to work. But, because she hardly ever makes these requests, I thought it would be a good opportunity to give her the chance to learn how to do breakfast outside the home in an orderly fashion. We walked in, ordered, and sat down to wait for order. I noticed the lady sitting across from us eyeing my daughter. She kept smiling. I could tell she was enjoying just watching my daughter and her faces.
As soon as our food was ready, I pulled out our glucometer and proceeded to check my daughter's levels. I could see kind of in slow motion, how this lady's eyes open wide and how she almost choked on her breakfast! Immediately she struggled to quickly swallow and look over and ask: " is she diabetic?" I answered yes. Immediately she smiled and said: "My daughter is too." Instantly, as it has occurred before, there was an instant bond. I did not dwell too much on what the lady look like or her accent or anything particular about that. We were just two mothers of diabetics who happened to bump into each other. She asked me how old my daughter is and told me about how her daughter was diagnosed at the age of 8. She told me the story of how she was in California and got a call that her daughter was in the hospital. As she shared her story, I realized how so many other families go through truly traumatic experiences to then hear a quite daunting an overwhelming fact.
We sat there, and spoke for about half hour as if we have known each other for years. We talked about legal issues, agreements and disagreements with schools, different options for homeschooling, different issues related to mood swings and puberty and hypoglycemia and not being able to know what's going on and children whose parents make them think they should be ashamed they are diabetic... We basically talked about everything and anything related to diabetes. It was just so fun! She told me about how her daughter is now 16 years old and very active. Her daughter is proud to be different and normal at the same time. She shared some of the experiences her daughter has had a teenager, encountering classmates who were also diabetic but are too ashamed to tell the school. She told me about her daughter finding teenagers passed out in the bathrooms and in the hallways... Simply put, she told me about the tragedies that come after refusing to accept that it's okay to be diabetic.
We commented on this for some time. We talked about the influence teachers have on the kids at this difficult age. We talked about the influence parents have and how making their kids feel they should hide their diabetes, maybe because they themselves are ashamed, its just a huge disservice to the kids. She commended me for testing in public and for teaching my child, starting at a young age, that she should never be ashamed of her diabetes. She talked about how her daughter has thrived and has lived fully after her diagnosis. She talked about her daughter's involvement in sports and academic activities, and all sorts of fun things.
This was a stark contrast with my experience on Monday morning. I was pulling out the trash bins, since Monday is trash day. Our next door neighbor, who just moved into the house next door, asked if the trash truck had already driven by. I talked to her about how unpredictable trash pick ups are and how is just best to take them up early in the morning and have to be ready for whenever the city decides to pick up the trash. We introduced ourselves, and talked about how there are no other kids close by. She told me she had two kids and that her oldest is autistic. I could see in her face how she hesitated, and hated to say that her daughter was autistic. I asked how old her daughter was, and she replied her daughter was 6... But then, with a very apologetic face said her daughter had the mental capacity of a one year old. I immediately felt her pain. Obviously, she is having a hard time dealing with the challenge of a child who I am sure is absolutely special. I did not say anything about my own daughter. I thought that would be a good conversation over a playdate or over a plate of sugar free cookies. Right then and there, as I walked away to come back into the house, I realized how hard it is for parents to not be ashamed when their kids are different, but normal at the same time.
However, as I think about this, and having had more than 24 hours now to really think it through... I realize that it is the adults who completely miss the point. It is the adults, the parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, the teachers, the caretakers, the preschool assistants, the principles, and tutors of the world, who completely miss the point. It's not the children! They don't know any different. The only thing they know is how to be a child. Unfortunately, this world is full of adults that are authority figures to children who work differently, and pass their own prejudices and their own preconceived notions about what a person should be. Thus, in time, also completely ruining the opportunity this child might have to thrive. Shame!
Well, today I have decided, that there is no shame in being who you were sent to this earth to be. There is no shame in having a body that works differently. There is an infinite amount of shame when you do not see that part of the beauty of this world. There is an indescribable lack of vision when you try to instill shame in a child when you should be instilling in them the strength and courage to overcome the shame and stupidity of other people.
I am so grateful for both conversations! What a relief it is to see that other parents also share the same feelings that this world is better when we accept the differences nature imposed. There's no shame in accepting the differences that come naturally. There is no shame in having a normal life when your body works differently. The important thing is teaching our children to be comfortable in their own skins. To never ever apologize for who they are and how they need their lives to be. We ourselves need to take a stand in helping people understand that we need not be apologetic about the lifestyle that this life has asked us to lead.
So once again, I think about the scared 8 year old that was diagnosed 8 years ago in California. I don't know her. I will never meet her. I will only get two know this child from a 30 minute conversation, through the eyes of her mother. However, I am proud of her! I am proud of her accomplishments! I am proud of the example she gives the other children who need support to accept that they are just fine! I am proud of the stand she takes on behalf of my own daughter! I am proud to say that one day, my daughter will stand on the shoulders of proud, courageous, brave, and absolutely outstanding teenagers like this 16 year old! I am so grateful that, at 16, she stands without shame, shouting to the world that she is perfect. Perfectly sweet! And perfectly happy to be 16 and diabetic.
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