This boy – y’all, he continues to amaze me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Most kids are amazing. Most kids can remind us of things that we have forgotten as adults. Most kids can teach us things if we only stop to listen.
I know Hugh is not the only amazing kid out there. His sister is pretty amazing, too, with her unique fashion sense and sheer command of the world around her.
I teach some pretty amazing kids. I know kids who are fighting battles of their own, some not as visible as Hugh’s, and I am always amazed at their strength, resilience, and joyfulness in spite of their circumstances. Kids are amazing in general, I think.
So I really should not be surprised when Hugh says things that make me pause and marvel at his attitude in life. But I still am.
Hugh is not the kind of kid who is competitive or naturally aggressive. He tried playing soccer one year and was much more interested in singing and dancing for the crowd than running after the ball. When we would tell him to try and go kick the ball with the others, he would look at us with a quizzical expression, as if that were the craziest thing he had ever heard. Why should he go get the ball when there were ten other kids chasing after it? He had much more fun lagging behind and waving to the crowd.
Sports just aren’t his thing, so his dad and I were thrilled when he decided to join the swim team. And we were even more excited when we discovered he was a pretty good little swimmer, with his long legs and torso propelling him quickly through the water.
Swimming has been an excellent sport for him and he enjoys the camaraderie. I can’t say enough about his coaches, who have been so patient with him. It hasn’t been easy – we check his blood sugar regularly as he swims, wiping his wet and wrinkled fingers on a beach towel as he is dripping pool water on our heads. There have been times his blood sugar has spiked and we have had to leave early, other times I have sat nervously on the sidelines when his blood sugar is dropping low. His coaches understand there are days he feels great and days where he is sluggish and slow. They are encouraging and compassionate through it all, and it has truly been a great experience for Hugh.
So imagine what went through my head when I was helping Hugh get ready for swim practice a few days ago, and he tells me “You know, Mom, sometimes when I’m ahead of the others in the pool, I slow down a little bit to let them catch up. I want to swim with the others.”
Of course, the first thing out of my mouth was “Hugh! The whole point of swimming on a swim team is to be first! You can’t slow down! You have to go super fast and beat everyone else!”
He gave me that same quizzical look as he gave me when he played soccer. As if that made no sense to him at all. Why would he want to be out there way ahead of everyone else in the pool? Why wouldn’t he want to swim with all his friends?
It was only later that night that I began to think about what he had told me. Again, I really shouldn’t be surprised. That is my son – always wanting to be surrounded my people, having fun, enjoying life. He doesn’t understand the hurry of things. He doesn’t get that there are races in life and that people want to be first. He doesn’t buy into any of that.
And then I started thinking, you know, there are a lot of times I feel alone with this disease. I feel like none of my friends understand what it is like to have a child with diabetes. When I wake up in the middle of the night to check Hugh’s blood sugar and the fear grips my heart as I lean over the bed, watching to see if he is still breathing, the loneliness surrounds me. Not many people can sympathize with that type of fear. Diabetes can be a lonely and isolating thing. Sometimes it feels like I’m in a huge, dark pool and I am swimming alone.
But maybe, just maybe, I am not alone. If I look behind me there are others in the pool with me, and they have helped me time and time again. There are family members, too many to count, who live diabetes with us, day in and day out. There are friends, who will never understand, but who show up anyway and are not afraid to listen. There are other parents of children with diabetes, who lift us up and never let us lose hope. We are not alone.
Maybe I should take Hugh’s advice. Maybe life is not a race. Maybe I should slow down, let others catch up with me, and swim together.
