Sure enough, he had Celiac Disease. He also had reflux, several ulcers, and was a complete digestive mess. It was no wonder he was angry! If my insides were this inflamed and awful, I would have been a bit crabby and unproductive too! This came right before his 7th birthday.

My body had fought and hung on for me for seven years (I thank it every day for that), and now I felt I owed it the same respect. Once I really cleaned up my diet, that’s when I saw the greatest improvements.  It was not easy, I won’t say it was, but it is worth it for the fact that I was able to get my life back.

Thanks to the fact that gluten-free dining has become a dietary trend, many people assume that I can “cheat” and eat small amounts of gluten. I struggle with how to make people understand that it is not worth it to repeatedly inflame my intestines to the point of risking lymphoma or, at the very least, feeling like crap and setting up residence in the restroom.  

Sure, Lucy doesn't know--at least not yet--that I can't go hiking with her when she's older because of my fibromyalgia. That sometimes holding her is incredibly painful because my hands and wrists hit a new level of pain and muscle spasms around the same time she turned 3 months old.

For me, the next phase was a heroic jump into an unsustainably perfect way of living with an autoimmune disease. I bought an arsenal of health books, lost at least 8 of my 9 lives to Google (and self-diagnosed myself with 34.5 other diseases), interrogated numerous doctors, and went to weird support groups in dark church basements.