As a graduate student in mental health counseling, I often visualize a diagnosis as a robust tree trunk. At its core lies a stable disorder, from which a network of symptoms branches out, leading to additional challenges. In my experience, sensory processing disorder (SPD) has taken root in our lives like a towering Redwood, casting a significant shadow over our daily existence. One of the concerning symptoms associated with SPD is sensory eating, which has manifested into a more daunting diagnosis — failure to thrive (FTT).
It’s critical to distinguish between a picky eater and a sensory eater. The most alarming difference is that sensory eaters often prefer to go hungry rather than consume a food that disrupts their delicate equilibrium. My son, Ethan, is one such sensory eater. While many people can identify textures that they can’t tolerate, for Ethan, the issue lies in flavor intensity. I recall an incident when he was three-and-a-half, where he unwittingly took a bite of a garlic-flavored cracker. The reaction was immediate; he broke out in a cold sweat, his face flushed, and he was unable to eat for the rest of the evening. His body was fiercely rejecting the flavor.
Years of intense reactions to various flavors have led to extremely poor eating habits and anxiety surrounding food. In our home, mealtime is filled with dread rather than joy. From the very beginning, every bite Ethan has taken has been prompted by me, leading to a cycle of reminders like, “Eat, Ethan.” “You need to finish that bite, Ethan.” I can vividly remember the anxiety I felt each Monday morning as I prepared for the week ahead, knowing it would be filled with countless meals that could take up to an hour and a half to complete. He would painstakingly chew each minuscule bite, often avoiding actually tasting the food while I stood by, trying to maintain a calm demeanor.
Eventually, I realized I needed to step back and allow Ethan to eat at his own pace. The stress and frustration surrounding mealtimes were becoming overwhelming, and I understood I couldn’t help him if I was constantly on edge. While this approach worked for a time, Ethan’s recent check-up revealed that he had begun losing weight. A seven-year-old boy who weighed only 38 pounds had dropped to 36.5.
The news sent me into a panic, and I reacted poorly, raising my voice and trying to instill fear to encourage him to eat better. I regret that my reaction caused him distress over something beyond his control. Determined to foster a more supportive environment, I attempted to manage my anxiety and guide him gently. Unfortunately, this only lasted a few days.
Can you imagine the exhaustion of reminding your child to eat every single bite? It’s a constant source of anxiety. Each meal, I see his frail figure and dark circles under his eyes, and I feel a surge of fear for his health and growth. Guilt consumes me as I confront my inability to ensure he eats adequately. I wish I could find a way to cut off the branches of FTT before they grow, as I fear the weight of this diagnosis might overwhelm us.
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Summary
Navigating the complexities of sensory eating can be a daunting task for any parent, particularly when the stakes involve a potential failure to thrive diagnosis. My son, Ethan, grapples with intense reactions to food flavors, leading to anxiety and poor eating habits. As I strive to manage my fears and support him, I find myself in a constant battle against guilt and concern for his growth and health.