The experience of savoring a soft pretzel—its crunchy, salty exterior—can be quite tempting. I promised myself that I would only indulge once, yet moments later, the bag was empty. It was puzzling; why was I so unable to resist?
Less than a month prior, my fourteen-year-old son, Jake, received a diagnosis of Celiac Disease, an autoimmune condition that leads to damage in the small intestine when gluten is consumed. Jake’s prolonged health issues had been a puzzle, so when we finally discovered the cause and the remedy—strict adherence to a gluten-free diet—we felt a wave of relief.
When Jake’s doctor recommended that our entire household transition to a gluten-free lifestyle to avoid cross-contamination and to support him, we didn’t hesitate. As parents, we often prioritize our children’s health and well-being. I had successfully given up sushi, coffee, and wine during my pregnancies, so I anticipated this change would be manageable.
My husband was optimistic about the shift, believing it might also enhance his own health by cutting back on carbohydrates. My younger daughters, Lily and Mia, quickly adapted as well, particularly when they realized that many of their favorite foods—like steak, baked potatoes, nachos, and ice cream—remained gluten-free.
Initially, we enjoyed a diverse range of meals thanks to my husband’s culinary skills. He prepared naturally gluten-free dishes such as enchiladas, barbecued ribs, and stir-fried rice. Soon, he began experimenting with gluten-free pastas and flours, and to our surprise, many dishes were quite enjoyable. “This almost tastes like the real thing,” we would exclaim, genuinely impressed.
I committed to maintaining our gluten-free diet even outside the home, recognizing that Jake had no choice in following this strict regimen. However, a deep-seated hunger began to emerge—a relentless, unyielding craving. No matter how much gluten-free food I consumed, it never seemed to satisfy me. As I lay awake at night, my stomach ached, yearning for something warm and doughy—perhaps a slice of bread?
The gluten-free alternatives often resembled traditional foods in appearance, and at first, they could be deceivingly tasty. Yet by the fourth bite, the flavors would turn overly sweet, grainy, or simply unappealing. Additionally, with gluten-free pasta and cookies priced at six dollars a bag, it became challenging to eat enough to feel full.
While we expressed that the gluten-free substitutes were acceptable, it was more a matter of desperation. They were only “good” in the way that someone stranded on a deserted island would find a simple meal to be a feast after months of foraging for insects.
I kept my dissatisfaction hidden, but I soon recognized I wasn’t alone in my struggles. My nine-year-old daughter, Mia, began to seek out unusual activities. “Really, you want to go to Jake’s baseball game?” I questioned.
“Abby said we’d get pizza afterward. I’m sorry, Mom, but I really need some gluten,” Mia confessed.
Then I noticed that my seventeen-year-old daughter, Emma, had skipped dinner at home five nights in a row. “Why do your study groups always coincide with dinner?” I asked.
“I’m not going from house to house searching for gluten!” she replied, looking downcast. “Okay, fine. It’s just that gluten-free food feels like eating air. I’m always hungry!” she admitted.
It became clear that my daughters shared not only our family resemblance but also an undeniable craving for gluten.
One day at work, I succumbed to the allure of those pretzels. I wouldn’t have caved if gluten-free options had been available, I assured myself. As I relished those salty bites, I found myself wishing for a cold beer to accompany them. It quickly turned from pleasure to guilt. How could I, as a mother, falter in the commitment to our family’s dietary change for Jake’s health?
As I contemplated confessing my indulgence to Jake while we waited at a local burger joint, he asked why I didn’t simply order a regular burger.
“Because we’re gluten-free, and I want to be supportive,” I replied, trying to justify my choices.
“It doesn’t bother me when others eat gluten. In fact, it annoys me when they don’t because of me,” he said.
“Really? You won’t write about how terrible I am in your memoirs later?”
“No, I’m not you,” he reassured me.
I ordered my burger, bun and all, and it was undeniably delicious. As I savored each bite, I felt a surge of admiration for Jake. He had faced his diagnosis with remarkable strength and grace, and here he was, encouraging me to enjoy my meal. Perhaps I wasn’t such a terrible mother after all—or maybe that was just my cravings talking.
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Summary:
Transitioning to a gluten-free lifestyle can be a challenging adjustment for families, especially when one member is diagnosed with Celiac Disease. This article captures the journey of a family adapting to their new diet, exploring the emotional and physical struggles that accompany dietary restrictions. It highlights the importance of support, resilience, and the occasional indulgence that can lead to moments of guilt and reflection.