Parenting
Navigating a Gluten-Free Life (Sort Of) by Emily Carter
Updated: December 30, 2015
Originally Published: August 2, 2011
I can still remember the crunch of that pretzel, its salty flavor tantalizing my taste buds, as I convinced myself it would be my one indulgence. Moments later, I found the bag empty, wondering what had happened to my resolve. How could I have given in so easily?
Just weeks earlier, my fourteen-year-old daughter, Lily, received a diagnosis of Celiac Disease, an autoimmune disorder that wreaks havoc on the digestive system when even trace amounts of wheat, rye, or barley are ingested. After months of uncertainty regarding her health, discovering the cause and the solution—a gluten-free diet—was a relief.
Without hesitation, her doctor recommended that our entire household adopt a gluten-free lifestyle to prevent cross-contamination and support Lily’s health. Naturally, we were committed to doing whatever it took to help her feel better.
I thought going gluten-free would be a breeze. As a parent, making sacrifices for my children is second nature. After all, I had navigated three pregnancies without a fuss over giving up sushi, coffee, or wine (in moderation, of course).
My husband welcomed the dietary shift, hoping to shed some carbs, while my two other daughters were equally on board, especially when they realized favorites like steak, baked potatoes, nachos, and ice cream remained on the menu.
For the first few weeks, we dined like royalty, with my skilled husband preparing naturally gluten-free dishes such as enchiladas, barbecued ribs, and rice stir-fry. Soon, he began experimenting with gluten-free pastas and flours, and we were pleasantly surprised by the results. “This tastes almost like the real thing!” we’d cheerfully exclaim, genuinely impressed by the flavor of gluten-free options.
I kept my commitment to gluten-free eating even outside the home and at work. After all, Lily didn’t get to choose when or where to follow her diet, and neither should I.
But then came the hunger—the kind that felt never-ending. No matter how much gluten-free food I consumed, it never felt sufficient. At night, I’d lie in bed, my stomach aching, craving something warm, doughy, and comforting—like BREAD.
Though gluten-free alternatives resembled regular food at first glance—and even tasted somewhat normal for a few bites—they soon devolved into overly sweet, powdery, or just plain odd flavors that made large servings unappealing. And with gluten-free pasta or cookies costing a pretty penny, who could afford to eat till satisfaction?
While I told myself the substitutes were decent, deep down, I knew they weren’t really good. It was merely a reflection of our collective hunger. They were “good” in the way that anything might taste delightful after six months of living off insects on a deserted island.
Naturally, I kept my dissatisfaction to myself, but it didn’t take long to realize I wasn’t alone. My nine-year-old started accepting peculiar invitations. “Really? You want to attend Timmy’s little league game?”
“Timmy said we’d get pizza afterward. Sorry, Mom, but I really need to get my gluten fix,” my youngest admitted one evening.
Then I noticed that my seventeen-year-old daughter had missed dinner at home five nights in a row. “Why do your study sessions always have to coincide with dinner? You’re not off searching for gluten, are you?” I asked.
“No, no, of course not,” she replied, her eyes downcast. “Okay, yes, I can’t help it! Gluten-free food feels like eating air. I’m starving all the time!”
Clearly, my daughters and I shared more than just our brown eyes—we were all bread-lovers struggling with the gluten-free lifestyle.
At work, I found myself succumbing to temptation and indulging in those delicious pretzels. Honestly, I wouldn’t have caved had there been gluten-free options available. As I savored each crunchy bite, I wished I weren’t at work so I could enjoy them with a hearty stout. Clearly, pretzels were my gateway to gluten.
However, the momentary joy quickly turned to guilt. What kind of mother was I, unable to last a mere month without wheat for my daughter’s health? Was I truly a gluten addict?
As we stood in line at a local burger joint, I considered confessing my indulgence to Lily. While preparing to order two “protein burgers” (wrapped in lettuce instead of a bun), she asked why I didn’t just order a regular burger.
“Because we’ve committed to being gluten-free, and I want to be supportive. You wouldn’t mind?”
“No, it doesn’t bother me when people eat gluten around me. I actually find it annoying when they skip it because of me,” she replied.
“Are you sure? You’re not just saying that for the sake of my conscience?”
“No, I’m not you.”
Ouch.
I ordered my burger—with the bun—and savored every bite. As I finished, I looked at my daughter with admiration. She had handled her diagnosis and the gluten-free journey with incredible grace, especially at her age. Here she was, encouraging me to enjoy gluten-filled food.
If she turned out this amazing, perhaps I wasn’t such a terrible mother after all. Or maybe that was just my addiction speaking.
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In summary, transitioning to a gluten-free diet is a challenging journey, often filled with unexpected cravings and moments of temptation. Despite the struggles, the importance of supporting a loved one’s health remains paramount, and finding balance is key.