Vancouver is a progressive city with tons of cool people, but it's also cold and rainy for more than three months out of the year. Once September arrives, forget it. Add to that, my husband was doing a demanding postdoctoral research position, and I had a toddler in a basement apartment.
Yeah, that was a bit challenging. We had a good church support network we'd found early on there, and that was a blessing. But still, the tiredness, fatigue, bloating, and unhappiness went on. Its friend irritability also showed up. I found my temper short and my words harsh.
I didn't like who I'd become, and I remember a particular sermon in church about the fruit of the Spirit. I realized I didn't have several of them, and I cried over that. But I wasn't sure what to do about it. I couldn't seem to get out of the funk I was in, though I had a beautiful daughter and a husband who had made a courageous career change that seemed like a good idea along with friends who cared.
I was down in a black hole of depression that I now blame 90% on gluten.
I did my best for my daughter, and all was well with her for the first year. She walked a bit early and talked using three syllable words.
Then she turned three.
I'll never forget it. We went down to the beach to see my parents. By that point, I was managing to hold my weight a bit above where it had been in Pennsylvania, but I craved bread and wheat all the time and still fought the old compulsions.
My daughter fought getting her bathing suit on that week.. with screaming fits and thrashing... though she wanted to swim. After three days of it, my nerves were totally shot and I remember going out to the beach with my husband where I cried salty tears in the salty waves. "What is wrong with her?" I asked him. He just shook his head.
When we got back home, she wouldn't let me cut her fingernails but would arch and scream. I was beside myself and started researching. I figured it out within days:
Autism
And I knew I was right. I've long had a smidgen of intuition when it comes to people and these sorts of things, and I knew it in my gut. At first my husband didn't believe it, but he was soon to be swayed as the fits went on over certain clothes and just everyday things. My daughter couldn't answer a simple question at three and a few months old: What's your name?
We got her into the wonderful Canadian healthcare system for this-- and yes, I stand by that claim about it. We were covered under my husband's insurance anyway, and a pediatrician took my concerns seriously and referred us on. A whole panel diagnosed my daughter as high functioning autistic. The doctor tried to reassure me as I wept. "She's autistic, but she'll mainly be quirky...if you get her the therapy she needs."
She got play based therapy and came a long way. Today, she is a bright, quirky girl. I can't imagine my world without her.
But I have cried many tears since then-- especially in the last year. I wonder what might have been if I had known about my gluten intolerance before I got pregnant and had been gluten free? You see, autism, like many autoimmune disorders, has a strong association with celiac disease (which I may or may not have) and gluten intolerance.
This is a tough pill to swallow, and it is part of why I am so passionate about getting my story out there. I hope it serves to get someone else on the gluten free diet as soon as possible. Because it's not just about you... especially not if you're a woman planning to have children. The damage gluten can do to your body and that of the life you carry can't be overemphasized.
Was that the only factor involved in my sweet daughter's autism? I don't think so, but I feel certain it is one of the major ones.
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