I wrote a passionate post about celiac disease last year that continues to get tons of traffic, comments, and emails. Mostly I think because people are happy not to feel alone. And while I usually stick to the topic of how celiac disease affects me, I want to take a minute and acknowledge the ways it affects my kids.
I was thinking about this today as I was lying in bed trying to sleep off a headache. My seasonal allergies seem to be triggering some of my celiac symptoms, especially the ones that mess with my brain. As I started to wake up, I could hear them shushing each other outside my bedroom door, trying to be quiet so I could rest.
I love that they know how to love me and let me rest when I’m feeling bad.
I hate that they know how to love me and let me rest when I’m feeling bad.
I wish they didn’t have to worry about it so much. I wish they didn’t have to remind each other to wash their hands and face after eating gluten. I wish they didn’t have to eat graham crackers on the back porch so the crumbs don’t get in the house. I wish they didn’t even know what the word gluten was.
But I’m thankful too. Thankful they are growing up to be compassionate human beings who will treat those who suffer from food allergies and intolerances with kindness and understanding.
And in this world, that is no small thing.