Updated: Dec. 30, 2015
Originally Published: Aug. 2, 2011
Oh, how I relished that pretzel, its crunchy, salty exterior tempting me, as I promised myself it would be just one. Yet, moments later, I found the bag empty. What was wrong with me? How could I have succumbed so easily?
It had been less than a month since my teenage daughter, Lily, received her diagnosis of Celiac Disease, an autoimmune condition that wreaks havoc on the digestive system at the mere presence of wheat, rye, or barley. After a long, perplexing journey through her illness, we were relieved to finally uncover the culprit and the simple solution—a gluten-free diet.
Without hesitation, we agreed with her doctor that the entire household should eliminate gluten to prevent cross-contamination and show our support for Lily. After all, as parents, we’re accustomed to making sacrifices for our children. Plus, I had navigated three pregnancies without a hitch, willingly giving up sushi, coffee, and even wine (well, mostly).
My husband jumped on board, hoping to shed some carbs and feel better himself. My two younger daughters were equally enthusiastic, especially when they discovered that their favorite foods like steak, baked potatoes, nachos, and ice cream were still on the menu.
During the first few weeks of our gluten-free journey, we dined like royalty thanks to my husband’s culinary skills. He prepared naturally gluten-free dishes like enchiladas, barbecued ribs, and rice stir-fry. Soon, he began experimenting with gluten-free pastas and flours, and to our surprise, we found ourselves saying, “Wow, this tastes almost like the real thing!”
I remained committed to our gluten-free lifestyle even when outside the home or at work. After all, Lily couldn’t choose when or where to follow her diet, nor should I.
But then came the insatiable hunger. No matter how much gluten-free food I consumed, it never felt fulfilling. Lying in bed at night, my emptiness ached; I craved something warm and doughy. Oh, I don’t know… perhaps BREAD?
Eating gluten-free foods felt like a culinary experience from another dimension—they resembled regular food and tasted fine at first, but by bite four, they often turned overly sweet or strange, making it tough to enjoy a full serving. And at six bucks for a bag of gluten-free pasta or cookies, who could afford to eat enough to feel satisfied?
While we maintained that gluten-free alternatives were decent, the truth was we were just really hungry. They were only “good” if you had been stranded on a deserted island for months with nothing but insects to eat.
I kept my frustrations about the gluten-free diet to myself, but soon realized I wasn’t alone. My youngest daughter, Mia, started accepting odd invitations. “You want to go to Timmy’s T-ball game?”
“Mia said they’d order pizza after. I’m sorry, Mom, but I need some gluten. I can’t take it anymore!”
Then I noticed my eldest daughter, Emily, had missed her fifth dinner at home in as many nights. “Why are your study groups always during dinner? Are you searching for gluten?”
“No, of course not,” she replied, looking downcast. “Okay, yes, I can’t help it. The gluten-free food is like eating air. I’m just so hungry all the time!”
Clearly, my daughters and I shared more than just our brown eyes; we were all bread addicts at heart.
Then, at work, I gave in and indulged in those delicious pretzels. Honestly, I wouldn’t have done it if gluten-free options were available. As I munched on those crunchy delights, I wished I could wash them down with a robust stout. Pretzels had become my gluten gateway drug.
The pleasure I felt quickly morphed into guilt. What kind of mother was I if I couldn’t even last a month without wheat for my daughter’s sake? Was I truly addicted to gluten?
As we stood in line at a local burger joint, I contemplated confessing my slip to Lily. When I ordered two “protein burgers” (wrapped in lettuce instead of buns), Lily asked why I didn’t just get a regular burger.
“Because we’re going gluten-free, and I’m trying to be supportive. You wouldn’t mind, right?”
“It doesn’t bother me when people eat gluten in front of me. In fact, I find it annoying when they don’t eat it because of me,” she said.
“Are you sure? You won’t write about how horrible I am later?”
“No, I’m not you.”
Ouch.
Well, I devoured my burger, bun and all, and it was the most satisfying thing ever. As I finished, I looked at my daughter in admiration. She had handled her diagnosis and the gluten-free lifestyle with incredible grace, especially at her age. Here she was, generously encouraging me to enjoy my gluten-filled meal.
If she turned out this wonderful, maybe I wasn’t such a terrible mother after all. Or perhaps that was just the craving speaking.
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Summary:
Navigating a gluten-free lifestyle can be challenging, especially when family members are involved. As a mother, the journey of supporting a daughter with Celiac Disease led to unexpected cravings and moments of weakness. However, the experience also highlighted the resilience and generosity of the children, reminding us that it’s okay to indulge occasionally while striving to maintain dietary commitments.