Lara was always a whirlwind of energy. Even before she was born, she was flipping, kicking, and dancing in utero. Walking at just 10 months, she never slowed down, and I often joked that she couldn’t sit still, not even in the bathroom. Her vibrant personality matched her activity level—no child has ever been as witty, determined, and curious as Lara. She didn’t just follow the crowd; she created her own path and played her own tune.
Her enthusiasm extended to food as well. As a toddler, Lara devoured everything in sight, even raiding our plates. The only food she rejected was green beans. She embraced everything else—spinach, avocados, Swiss cheese, and even a zesty tomatillo salsa stew I made. Her motto seemed to be that more flavors meant more fun. Her appetite was a parent’s dream come true.
When she decided to forgo milk at every meal, I thought it was entirely normal. She was energetic and needed water to quench her thirst. Over the next two years, she gradually added more foods to her “do not eat” list. I consulted her pediatrician, who reassured me that toddlers often adjust their diets intuitively, sometimes favoring protein one day and fruit the next. It all made sense, but a nagging worry lingered. While her peers grew taller, Lara remained smaller, looking like a preschool refugee next to her classmates.
During her wellness check at age 5, I inquired about her growth. The pediatrician agreed to test her blood but assured me, “You’re short, your husband is short—she’s not going to be a basketball player.” When I raised my concerns again at her age 6 check-up, she ordered a bone density scan, which yielded normal results, leading her to conclude, “She’s just petite.” I tucked my worries away once more.
Just three weeks after Lara’s 7th birthday, I received a call from her first-grade teacher that marked the beginning of a difficult journey. Lara was caught disposing of her entire lunch in the trash. When I confronted her, she claimed she wanted to be healthy. I explained how eating provides energy for growth and play. At bedtime, I revisited the topic, only to learn that she had been throwing away her lunch almost daily throughout first grade. I kissed her goodnight, but a storm of thoughts brewed in my mind.
The signs were all there—her growing list of rejected foods now included milk, cheese, peanut butter, cake, chips, fries, donuts, all dairy, snacks, and desserts. She constantly asked if specific foods were healthy, began reading labels in stores, and started negotiating portion sizes. She even became obsessed with cooking shows. At the time, these behaviors seemed like innocent quirks, but the insidious creep of her eating disorder went unnoticed.
A close friend advised me to reach out to an eating disorder center for an assessment. They confirmed that Lara’s behaviors were concerning, indicative of an eating disorder. However, they declined to diagnose her, stating she was too young for their program and suggesting we return in five years. If only I had known then what lay ahead, I would have acted differently. I was blind to the reality of the eating disorder—a cruel entity determined to harm my daughter and disrupt our lives. I mistook the center’s rejection as a sign of hope, believing we could manage this ourselves or with our pediatrician’s support. If only I could shake my past self awake!
Thus began my battle with the eating disorder, and yes, I say “our” battle because Lara is not alone in this fight. I am fully committed to helping her reclaim her life. This journey has been the hardest of my life, leaving wounds that ache daily, but I won’t back down. The eating disorder will rue the day it crossed paths with me.
If you or someone you know is facing an eating disorder, you can find detailed information and support at excellent resources like Kindbody.
In summary, ignorance can be bliss until it isn’t. My journey as a parent battling my daughter’s eating disorder has taught me the importance of vigilance and action. Every day is a fight, but I am ready to stand my ground.