A lot of people are gluten-free, but when you think about it, you probably don’t think there’s much emotion involved. And for some people? There isn’t.
But for me? It’s an extremely emotional subject that I have struggled with—some days more than others. You see, for my family, we weren’t given an option or a choice to be gluten-free. It was a life-or-death matter for my three-month-old baby.
And during the crisis, which was terrifying for my husband and me, we had to go through a crash course of every emotion you can possibly think of.
This is not a food diary or a guide to good gluten-free snacks. It’s about what happened when our family was thrown into a medically necessary gluten-free (and dairy-free, and soy-free) lifestyle. As a mom and as a nurse, I thought I could handle pretty much anything. But this? It shook me in ways that I never expected. And it also showed me just how strong I am.
The Trigger Moment: Why I Went Gluten-Free
My family’s story all started with a diagnosis and spun into the scariest weeks that threw our wolves into disarray.
When our oldest son was three months old, what appeared to be a simple viral illness spiraled into something way more serious. As a registered nurse, I’m trained to stay calm in medical situations, and I usually am. But nothing could have prepared me for watching my baby struggle to keep food down, vomit constantly, and lose weight every day.
After too many to count hospital visits, we ended up in a specialty children’s hospital where we finally got some answers: Cow’s Milk Protein Intolerance. And it wasn’t just a mild intolerance. His teeny body was in distress. There was blood in his stool. Damage to his intestines. He couldn’t absorb the nutrients that he needed properly. We were told right then and there: gluten-free, dairy-free, soy-free. As I said above, this was not an optional thing. And we couldn’t ease into it with a slow transition. It had to happen STAT.
I remember hearing those words and feeling like the floor had dropped out from underneath me. I had patients who dealt with this. I understood it clinically. But in that moment, as a mom? I was lost. Scared. And honestly, I was also angry. Why my baby? Why him?
And like so many moms do all over the world, I did what we do best, and that’s to put my own needs aside, focused solely on him, and try to hold it all together for everyone else’s sake.
The Early Struggles: Guilt, Grief, and Feeling Isolated
Guilt is a funny emotion, isn’t it? Even though I had no control over this and logically, I knew it wasn’t my fault, the guilt hit and it hit me like a two-by-four.
I blamed myself every time I couldn’t breastfeed, because I knew that everything I put into my own body would trigger his symptoms. I felt guilty because our whole household had to make a drastic change, for asking my husband to read every label, for throwing out foods we liked and always ate, and for becoming “that mom” at restaurants who interrogated the server like I was a cop.
I was grieving our old “normal,” and it wasn’t just the food we couldn’t eat anymore. The spontaneity disappeared with our new diet. There was no more grabbing a quick bite at the drive-thru while we were out running errands. No more ordering regular pizza. Baking anything felt like it was dangerous. I missed how food was fun, and I’d taken that for granted. Now I had to overthink everything, which was exhausting, frustrating, and stressful beyond belief.
That can get lonely. Yes, I have an amazing husband who was on the same page and feeling the same feelings as I was, but most other people? They didn’t get it. They’d say things like, “Just give him a little and see if anything has changed,” or “You have to stop stressing about it.” I wanted to scream. And cry. I did a lot of both. I stopped talking about it after a while, just to save my energy that was needed elsewhere. The mental load was hard enough—having to read every ingredient label while bouncing a baby on my hip and trying not to burst into tears in my local Target because I was having trouble finding a safe snack.
People think it’s just food. But that’s an understatement of the century. It’s our identity. And I had lost and was grieving a version of motherhood that I thought I’d get to have.
Managing Family Dynamics and Expectations
When we were at home, my safe place, things weren’t always easy at first either.
My husband of course supported me, but it was a really hard adjustment for us! We were both tired, stressed, and suddenly had to negotiate a totally different way of eating. I think we were both grieving, albeit in different ways, and trying our best not to take it out on each other. And we did pretty well, but like most new parents, we were exhausted on top of the extra gluten stress.
And our extended family didn’t really understand. I know that people’s hearts were in the right place, but I sure got a lot of “Won’t he just grow out of it?” and, the old standard, “A little won’t hurt him.” It was so draining trying to explain that yes, it would hurt him. It had hurt him. And no, it’s not a phase.
Later on, when the kids (we have two boys now) had questions (because what kid doesn’t have questions about everything), when they were old enough to notice, they’d ask. “Why do we eat different food?” “Why can’t we have cheese?” I wanted to shield them from the stress, but also be honest, which is a fine line to walk. But I did (and still do) my best to turn these into teachable moments about compassion and flexibility—and so food isn’t something scary like the boogeyman hiding in the closet.
I didn’t want to make our home feel too restrictive or too different, and that meant spending a ton of time researching recipes that felt familiar, figuring out swaps that worked, and keeping normalcy in our routine, even if it meant extra work on my part. I wanted our kitchen to still feel like a place of comfort, not a strict no-go zone.
The Turning Point: What Helped Me Through
When I got to a place where I did want to talk about it again, the internet did what it does best—connect people. I found other moms who were going through the same thing. There are online groups, forums, Instagram accounts of families who were juggling similar diets, and I didn’t feel so alone anymore. There’s a community of other moms just like me.
I was getting the hang of it! I found a dairy-free, gluten-free mac and cheese that didn’t taste like it was a punishment. I learned to bake bread that didn’t fall apart when you breathed on it. I found crackers that didn’t taste like paper towels. I stopped dreading going grocery shopping. I cherished the days that my son was living his best life—laughing, growing, and eating without pain.
The biggest change? When I let go of the idea of perfection. LOL, I really had this notion that I had to be an expert, a nutritionist, a Michelin-starred chef, and a totally put-together, glowing mom who can do it all effortlessly. The second I gave myself permission to do it imperfectly? Everything changed. I concentrated on progress and keeping it moving. I kept learning. And I gave myself the same grace that I gave my kids.
How I Reclaimed Joy and Confidence
Once we got into our groove, I began to enjoy food again, but in a different way.
We made our own new traditions. Saturday pancakes were now gluten-free banana oat pancakes with chocolate chips. Birthday cakes took way more effort, but they tasted just as sweet. And the kiddos help pick out snacks, stir the dough, flip the pancakes. They don’t care what is in the food, they only cared that we made it together!
I also started to see what this was showing my kids: that it’s okay to have different needs, to speak up, and to take care of your body.
I stopped seeing all of our restrictions as a burden and started seeing them as a way of showing love. This was how I cared for my son. And eventually, it’s how I learned to care for myself too.
Encouragement for Other Moms on This Journey
If you’re smack dab in the middle of what we went through, aka trying to read food labels through tears and wondering if you’ll ever figure it out, you are seen. I see you.
This is hard. And that doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human. You are more than allowed to feel overwhelmed. You are allowed to miss the old way of how you did things. You are allowed to miss real cheese.
If you want to know what I learned, here it is:
- Have some go-to meals that you can make when you’re sleep deprived. It can be toast and scrambled eggs (gluten-free, obvi).
- Say yes to treats! They don’t need to have gluten to count.
- Get support. Do not white-knuckle your way through this. Community really does make the hard days a little less hard.
It won’t always feel this insurmountable. You will find and get into your own rhythm. You’ll find your go-to products. Your pantry will eventually stop feeling like it’s a ticking time bomb. And one day, sooner than you think, you’ll look back and realize that you did something absolutely amazing.
Conclusion: Stronger Than I Thought
I honestly didn’t know how strong I was until I had no choice but to be.
Our path took me from confused mom to confident mama bear. From grief to gratitude. From being the mom who sobbed in the cookies and crackers supermarket aisle to the mom who packs lunch like a boss and teaches her kids to advocate for their needs.
Here are the valuable lessons that I’ve learned (and that you will too):
- I learned how to fight for my child’s health
- I let go of guilt I never deserved to carry
- I built new rhythms that are all our own and work for our family
- I stopped chasing perfect and landed on peace instead
You don’t have to kill it every single day—that’s not realistic or a healthy way to see things. All you have to do? Keep showing up and doing your best. There are days when you’ll be exhausted and unsure of yourself, but that’s all moms—gluten-free or not.
I’m not perfect and not trying to be, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not powerful. And you are too!
