Recently, we visited Hugh’s classroom for his birthday. While we were there, he had a short time to stand up in front of the class and share some things about himself. He had planned ahead, and brought his special bear Rufus, to show the class. He wanted to talk about diabetes and tell his friends a few things about Rufus (the diabetes bear from JDRF).

Now, I have to tell you, Hugh loves an audience. He delights in being on stage and having all eyes focused on him. He comes alive when there is a crowd, so there was no hesitation as all his little classmates began asking him questions about diabetes. After the first few questions of “Do the shots hurt?” and “Why do you have to check your blood sugar?”, came the inevitable question we always know is coming . . . “How did you get diabetes?”

Hugh knows how to answer this question. We have discussed it many times. “Nobody knows how you get diabetes. Even doctors and scientists don’t know. My pancreas just quit working.” Then from the crowd of little people, someone shouts out “He ate too much sugar.” Hugh’s shoulders slump and he sighs. That’s when Mama jumps in.

“Do you all think that Hugh got diabetes because he ate too much sugar?”

Everyone answers in one loud chorus, “Yes”.

Ouch.

I know this shouldn’t bother me. It is a crowd of 7 year olds, for heavens sake. But as I started gently explaining that it was not because he ate too much sugar, it is just something that happens, I was mad. I was mad that this group of kids could blame Hugh and me for something we could not control. I was mad because I knew I was getting blamed by their parents at home. “Don’t eat that cupcake or you’re going to get diabetes like your friend Hugh.” I was mad because of all the education and awareness I try to spread, Type 1 Diabetes is still a mystery to so many.

But really I was mad because I still blame myself.

It’s silly, I know, to shoulder the blame of Hugh’s diabetes. I’m smart enough to understand what happened to Hugh’s body and that there was nothing we could do to prevent it. My mind knows the facts, my heart tugs in a different direction.

Call it old fashioned Southern guilt (we Southerners are so good at it), or a Mama’s longing for a different outcome for our children, or simply the way I’m hardwired, but there are days I can’t help it.

I ate a honeybun EVERY DAY when I was pregnant with Hugh. And not those small little honeybuns that come in packages of ten. I’m talking about convenience store honeybuns that you only buy on vacation. EVERY DAY. He was really sick when he was born because I developed an infection in labor. I couldn’t nurse him right away and he had to have formula in a bottle.

I let him eat all the icing he wanted off his 1st year birthday cupcakes. When he was two he had his first ICEE and he drank every last sip. We made once a week trips for ice cream . . . I could go on and on.

Why do we mothers do this to ourselves? And more importantly, why do we do it to each other?

I’m ashamed to admit that when I hear of a child who has died from complications of T!D, I immediately start researching the story. I devour every article, like a hungry man who is getting his first meal in days, until I can find a reason to blame that child’s parents for his/her death. Yes, you read that right, I blame the parents.

Why do I do that? Because I can’t bear the thought of the same thing happening to Hugh. I just can’t. I find something that I can blame the parents for, so I can tell myself that that will never happen to my child.

I do the same thing to those parents that others do to me. I blame them for something they had no control over. I want my life and my story to be different, and if I do everything right and never make a mistake, then Hugh will live a long and healthy life. If I can find out what those parents did wrong, I can save my own child.

I know why you blame me for Hugh’s diabetes. I know why in the back of your mind you think, “I wont’ give my child that extra cookie because I don’t want them to have diabetes like Hugh.” I know why you watch me and try to find something that I did wrong. You want a list of what not to do, so that your child doesn’t end up like Hugh.

I get it. I do the same thing. We all know that Type 1 Diabetes is not caused by eating too much sugar, but there is still the blame.

Friends, can I ask you for a favor? Let’s STOP the blame game. Let’s stop looking at moms whose lives aren’t perfect and children aren’t perfect and quit blaming them for making mistakes to mess it all up. We all make mistakes. There is no playbook for this life. There is no instruction manual on how to save your child from diabetes or cancer or a car accident. Sure, there are good choices that we can make, but that won’t save us from everything.

Let’s STOP looking at people like they deserve bad things happening to them because of their choices. Let’s STOP blaming them for life just happening to them. And let’s STOP feeling like we deserve good things because we have done everything right. We don’t deserve any of this life – good or bad.

And while I’m asking for favors, my friends, can I ask for one more? The next time you hear someone talking about diabetes and that it is caused from eating too much sugar, or if you hear someone saying they knew someone who had diabetes who did not take care of themselves, or if you listen to a joke about how eating one more slice of cake will give you diabetes, can you gently correct them? Can you let them know the truth? Can you STOP the blame game?

I promise that if you work hard at not blaming me, I’ll work hard at not blaming myself.