As much as it's helped me by leaps and bounds (alleviating ALL gluten, not just most), I still miss bread. You know, the whole process of making it, and then losing yourself in its fresh-from-the-oven goodness. But I also miss Panera, scones, pastries with my coffee, plump muffins and most of all, giant bagels with cream cheese. I was never one to bake a lot of bread (I maybe made an average of 12 loaves per year), but when I did, I relished it. And I miss it.
A sweet neighbor of ours would bring a bag of Panera bread to us every week while Shawn was out of work. Oh, it was so tempting. I gave in more than once, and regretted every bite the following days. But I'm starting to realize that I do have control over food (strange concept, huh?), and there is no reason I can't be happy in the place the Lord has placed me.
And then there's the guilt that comes along with the generosity of others. For example, the sweet ladies of Redeemer have brought us dinner the past few weeks - what a blessing! When I was asked about any food preferences/allergies, I only mentioned Lottie's milk/cheese sensitivity and said nothing about gluten. In my mind I've thought, "How could I? This church has been incredibly generous, how can I give stipulations on our food that are so difficult, even I haven't figured out how to cook well with it yet?!" Fortunately, Shawn and the kids have gobbled up all of the meals that I could not eat. Which is fine, I mean I've been on this diet-thing anyway. But I have a certain amount of guilt about this still. And since that offer for the meals, we've began to notice how severe Lottie's intolerance to dairy is. Even products that contain a trace amount of milk throw her into a tizzy.
And that's not to say the meals haven't helped out. The surely did. I can't begin to describe how difficult it's been to adjust to a fourth child while have a gluten intolerance. Mainly because I have only committed to be TOTALLY gluten free two weeks ago. I would "try" to eat gluten free, but if the food looked amazing, I caved. I felt better than I had, but I wasn't healing. Now, my body is healing and I am able to say no, wherease before I either would not or could not. Talk about being in closet denial. So, I really appreciated the help while I am trying to figure out how to cook these new types of meals and, well, really learn HOW to cook for us. The help in the interim has been just amazing. But I still feel guilty.
All in all (despite the feelings of guilt and mourning the loss of pizza, pasta, and bread), I am thankful for this. I thankful that I have the opportunity to finally know what's good for my body, and to feed myself well. Yeah, yeah. I know that's cheesy. But I do not want to go through the pain and constant illness that I lived in for years, again. Ever. My husband deserves better, and so do my kids. Praise God, we now know.