The Dreaded Invitation

I started to put my key into the lock when I saw something partially inserted through the crack of the door. It had my son’s name on it.

It was his very first invitation to a birthday party.

My mom-heart burst with joy that someone included my sweet boy!

I opened the door, and excitedly rushed inside to devour the details.

My mind raced with thoughts. Others notice my son! Someone wants him there! He has friends! He’s INCLUDED! The sheer happiness this brought….

...Oh. Wait.

I stopped halfway on the entryway stairs, my feet cemented to the floor. I stopped breathing.

I knew the feeling that took over all too well. It swallowed me, as it had many times before.

This was not a new feeling. I knew the routine.

This is how it went.

Fear took over. All I could think of was GLUTEN. Gluten everywhere. Cake, treats, hands, faces, tables, chairs, activities, etc. He couldn’t go to the party and freely enjoy it without me watching his every move. In my frantic mind, it was a fight or flight situation…and I was usually quick to fly.

It stung. I knew the thoughts wouldn’t stop there.

As I lifted the 100-pound invitation to the top of the stairs, my mind slowed. My heart, that was swelling with joy only moments before, began to physically ache.

It ached deeply. My heart had been socked in the gut out of nowhere.

The wallowing self-pity began.

Why must my “happy-mom-moments” be blindsided by my own reality?

I mean, seriously. For a sliver of a moment, I had forgotten about our limitations. I experienced the joy that others get to feel for their child all the time.

The anger and resentment bellowed.

Do they recognize that those experiences they get with their kids are precious treasures? Do they realize how lucky they are?

Why is gluten our kryptonite? Why can’t we be normal?

Stepping back, I tried to rationalize and talk myself through it.

I can make safe cake... He can go… I think he can go without me....

Wait, no, too much of a risk.

Should I tag along? Will I be that paranoid mom? Will it effect him socially? Me socially?

—

My own joyful “moment” for my son was ripped from me as soon as I swung back into our family’s game of real life.

In a way, I wish I had not experienced that quick moment of joy. …Maybe the pain wouldn’t have been so deep.    

I had always felt a dull throb toward the fact that gluten seemed to control many parts of my life. But this feeling was different. It felt like I had been robbed of the joy all mothers should be able to claim.  

This time, it was not a simple wave of anguish that came and left.

The sorrow lingered. I think it remained because I had actually been waiting for this day to come since the very moment I hung up after my son’s diagnosis phone call. Before I even set the phone down on that call with the nurse, one of the first thoughts that crossed my mind was my son’s social life: Birthday parties, friends, holidays, school events, traditions… My son missing out socially is what worried me the most.

—

Now, here I was, staring at his first invitation that I’d been waiting for. To me, this invitation meant more than just one birthday party. It meant that it was time for many more social struggles to start pounding at our door, much louder than even this one. It meant my son was older, so the social games would begin.

During that period of my life, I had allowed myself to be a slave to gluten. It had complete control. Any gratitude—or any sense I had gained—completely escaped when a simple thing, like a birthday party, faced me.

In the beginning, a simple birthday party can actually be a huge deal for people who are gluten free or have other food restrictions. Those are real emotions that should not be made light. They should be accepted, and dealt with effectively.

It’s not just about the gluten.

It’s about inclusion.

Food has emotional connections. Think about it. What memories do you have associated with food? Cake, turkey, ice cream, popsicles in the summer, rolls, pie…

Up to that point of receiving my son’s first invitation, my emotions won every time.

I was not strong, yet.

—

That experience was an invitation for me…

It was an invitation for me to make a choice. I could either (1) focus on the ample amount of ways to enjoy social events or (2) allow darkness & woe to consume me—as dramatic as that sounds.

I made a choice that day.

It was the first step to becoming stronger & conquering those unwanted emotions.

It is what brought the feelings back that I initially had when I read the invitation: Others notice my son! Someone wants him there! He has friends! He’s INCLUDED!

I made the choice to not limit my son.

As I experienced more social events over time, the road became much brighter. It became less daunting each time. I learned how to navigate basically anything that involved food!

It is absolutely possible to Enjoy Social Events & Holidays with Celiac Disease.

We all have forms of “invitations” in our lives each day. We have to pick what the invitations of life are going to mean for us every. single. day.

I’ll be the first to admit that some days are HARD. HARD. HARD. It gets easier over time, but some days, it’s OKAY to make the choice of wallowing in self-pity.

I keep those times of gloominess momentary by constantly referring to the steps I’ve laid out to deal with the Raw Emotions of Celiac Disease. I have to pull myself up by the bootstraps & intentionally choose gratitude.

That thankful heart leads to unbarred opportunities that bring deeper joy & meaning to life. It’s true.

When you wake up each morning, ask yourself, “What will I choose today?”

Then, get to work.