My entire life, my weight has been a struggle. I’m a pretty confident person in nearly every aspect of my life except where my body is concerned. I’ve written about it before. Even when I was thin for me, I thought I was fat. I have plenty of self-esteem, but my self-image seems to be where my problems lie.
In 2009, even though I had two children with special needs, I made time to take care of me at least three times a week. I went to the gym while the kids had their social interaction at Mother’s Day Out. I kept a food diary for a few days, but eventually, I quit. Having had two pregnancies with severe gestational diabetes, I know more about nutrition than I would prefer. Oh, and I’d done a nutrition class with my sister once. Diets, I think I’ve tried most. Before my wedding, I lost fifty pounds on the “Eat any meat or veggie however you want it, but no carbs” diet. Trying to conceive my first child, I struggled with PCOS, but had the inability to take Metformin, so I did a doctor recommended “Cheese Diet,” which consisted of a two week sugar/carb detox (no fruit, bread, pasta, potatoes, rice, starchy vegetables were okay), the ability to eat any dairy, meat, or vegetable I wanted. I loved this diet. I lost twenty pounds in just two months. On the third month, I had my gallbladder removed. I didn’t go back to the diet after the surgery. I’d been deprived of everything I loved, and I still had no baby to show for it. But that third month my body did something it had not done in two years, even with the help of Clomid. It ovulated on its own. And three cycles later, I had a life growing inside of me. Years and two sick children later, I realized my situation is a bit more complicated because of mitochondrial disease. We all have it. It’s a metabolic condition, and the short version is that my body doesn’t make enough energy (ATP) to digest my food, to regulate my blood pressure, pulse, or temperature properly, and so much more. So, there’s definitely not a lot left over to go to the gym.
But in 2009, even though I had so much against me, I did it. I lost another twenty pounds doing a combination of the diets that had worked, exercise, and the help of some new ADHD medication that is basically speed. While my head was clear, my heart absolutely hated the medication. Palpitations are a scary thing, and I realized me and diet pills (or meds for ADHD) don’t mix well.
They put me on a different medication to help with anxiety, but that medication quickly caused me to gain everything I’d lost and then some. Since then, I’ve been unable to lose the weight. I’ve tried the things I used to do in the past, but nothing seems to work. Of course, one of the ways my mitochondria have gone on strike in my body is that my thyroid now is not very good at doing its job, and that may be contributing.
In addition to all of this, I’ve been diagnosed with pseudotumor cerebri, or some call it intracranial hypertension. The medicine that treats this is also making me sick, and the pressure in my brain has caused my optic nerves to swell (last visit showed the swelling had decreased, but I go back to the neurologist tomorrow to see what he says). Speaking of neurologist, at my last appointment, he gave me a card for a weight loss surgeon. Weight loss is one of the biggest ways to make this rare disease, affecting approximately 1 in 100,000, go into remission. Even 15-20% of your body weight could be enough. My genetics doctor, eye doctor, and husband are not keen on the idea of surgery for weight loss because of all my other complications. I have three gene mutations that make putting me to sleep a bit dangerous. The older I’ve gotten, the worse I’ve responded to anesthesia and surgeries, and for some reason, the idea of doing it makes me feel like a failure. My genetics doctor told me if I truly tried a clean diet, didn’t feel better and lose weight, and my vision was in jeopardy, then she’d support the decision for weight loss surgery.
A clean diet meaning nothing processed. Sounds very time consuming and overwhelming, but I’ve been seeing so much stuff about clean eating. It turns out that a lot of my friends are able to still have carbs, and they actually lose weight. How I wondered? They cut all the crap. Literally. I read an article once that said if the label looked more like something out of science class (which it should be noted I sucked at), then it’s probably not good for you. I told my boys if we can’t pronounce things in the label, we shouldn’t eat them.
Saturday, when I told my family that we were doing this, and unlike in the past when I cooked a meal for me, then one for everyone else, we were doing it together this time. My husband was on board because he’s sick of junk food, and he also knows we’ve been spending too much money on convenience food. Our youngest also has thyroid issues, and he’s rapidly putting on weight. Our oldest lost ten pounds, but has started to gain it back, and we want better habits for them than this.
In fact, it’s not always been like this. Before Noah’s first hospitalization at twenty-two months, he’d never watched television, most of his meals were homemade, and I made sure every meal was balanced, and I tried to limit his carbs. In the hospital, when I’d go to the cafeteria all alone with my child upstairs, his future unknown, I’d treat myself to a slice of cake. I deserved it, right? Eating my emotions was something I’d always done. If nothing else was going my way, if nothing else felt good, cake always did. Until thirty minutes later when my pancreas decided it didn’t know how to handle all the sugar. But that was me, and I could teach my child to do as I say, not as I do. Besides, he wasn’t with me. He wasn’t able to eat. I’d eat for both of us.
When we left the hospital (which was exactly 9 years and four days ago), he was 100% tube fed. At some point, there were six months he ate nothing by mouth and was 100% fed into his intestines. We had a baby who didn’t understand why he’d all the sudden lost the ability to eat, and I was now pregnant with our second son, so eating wasn’t optional for me. And while I had missed the ability to eat what I wanted while pregnant with Noah because of needing insulin five times a day, I knew if I wasn’t careful with the second, I’d pay for it later. That theory sounded good, but it didn’t matter. At 18 weeks, I was diagnosed with gestational diabetes anyway. But this time, we were constantly on the road going to appointments and in and out of the hospital. Most days, it was with little warning, and there was no time to plan a nutritious alternative. It was pack your bags and go…NOW. Oh, and it wasn’t a five minute trip, we’re talking sixty seven miles one way. I was always good about eating the diet when I actually ate. Even at McDonald’s or Chick-Fil-A, I knew what I could have and what I couldn’t. It wasn’t just about me. There were some days when there just wasn’t time to eat or drink. And that landed me in the hospital once. Another time, our pediatrician bought his nurse lunch so she could give me her tuna sandwich.
But even if there’d been time to prepare, there was no way I could cook in front of the child, so take out became our mantra. We’d go through drive-thrus and try to sneak eat. Sometimes, Chad would bring home food, and we’d take turns going into a locked room and stuff our faces as fast as we could. In the hospital, we used our cots that we slept on at night as a wall to hide behind, and we’d eat our food there, so Noah couldn’t see us. If family/friends brought food or drink in the room, we made them take it out. No one ate or drank in front of Noah. Eventually, he was able to have lollipops at meals with us as long as he didn’t bite them. Food made us feel guilty and sad.
When Noah was old enough to eat again, the other child had come along, and we were going to the doctor and hospital twice as much because he was also sick. And that’s when it started. We’d stop by the McDonald’s on the way to the doctor or on the way home. Some days the trips were an unplanned all day affair. We were doing the best we could to survive. And it was cute, but sad at the same time. Noah thought McDonald’s was called Dr. Trey’s because we’d usually stop there first on the way to Dr. Trey’s. He’d say, “I want a Happy Meal from Dr. Trey’s.”
Food has become a yoyo for our family. Sometimes, we love it because we know what it’s like to not be able to have it – to feel guilty for being able to eat it. Other times, we hate food because Noah can’t have it. Last year, even at nine years old, he was unable to eat by mouth. This time, he was old enough to know what he was missing. And he would cry and beg for us to not eat in front of him or make him smell the foods he loved. So, like we did so many years before, we would take turns taking Jonah for dinner, or we’d go alone. I remember sitting in a little deli and just wanting to cry, not eat, and cursing my hunger pangs.
Bad habits are bad habits no matter the etiology, no matter how good the excuse is. And because of all we’ve been through and have yet to still go through, changing those habits will be even more difficult for us to turn them into good habits.
Saturday, I made the decision for my family that all of our health depended on it. Noah cried for twenty minutes. I’m sure it felt like a different kind of yoyo for him. He mourned the foods he loves and worried he would never be able to eat again, and I almost gave up right then in and there as all the memories of what we’d been through flashed before my eyes. Hearing my child cry hurts me more than anything else in this world, but Chad supported me, and deep down, I knew Noah would thank me later.
Jonah just got a bit mad. He pretty much said he’d never eat by mouth again. He told us we could put everything through his tube. Even though our GI supports that, I hoped he would change his mind, but if I could hold my ground through Noah’s legit fears, then I could certainly stand up to my stubborn, just like me child.
Sunday, we went grocery shopping. We avoided the inside aisles, and read labels. It was much easier than actually reading the nutrition facts. I looked at the ingredients. If there were more than five or certain keywords, I put it back. We tossed our white sugars, flours, rice, and bread, replacing them with whole grain everything.
Our first meal was Sunday night, and I didn’t fight the boys on eating what they wanted. Chad had told Noah that we’d do this gradual, and our definition of that was allowing them to finish the food we have here, but not buying more to replace it. That gives them time to prepare for the change.
Monday, we went to a strict five meal a day plan. Breakfast when you wake, snack at 10am, lunch at 12pm, afternoon snack at 3pm, and dinner between 6-7pm. After dinner, the kitchen closes. There’s a list of approved snacks and portions on the fridge for their reference.
I created a menu for the week with the items we bought at the store. We let the boys pick the order of the menu. Some meals they complained about, but most of them have been ones that excite them more than any meal has ever excited them. The notecards are kept on the fridge, and I’ve caught them reading the menu in anticipation of dinner.
The boys are making healthier choices, sticking to the schedule, and each meal tell me at least one item they like better than the older version. We’re, as a family, learning that eating clean isn’t about what we’re losing or sacrificing. It’s about everything we’re gaining. Family time, cooking together, meals that are healthy, feeling better about ourselves, and not using food as a reward or treat. And dessert is fruit based. Muffins have vegetables.
I’m not sure what our results will be. We may find that we don’t lose any weight – that we need to cut the gluten, dairy, soy, etc. We may find that the only way I can lose weight is by only eating fruits, vegetables, and meat…or not at all without the help of a surgeon.
Will there be days I’ll mess up? I’m sure there will be. The differences in all the other times and this one is that I now have three cheerleaders living in my house that love me more than anyone. We’re here to support each other, to pick the other up when one falls because we are all on Operation Eat Clean, and together, there’s nothing we can’t do. But even if we don’t lose weight, the changes we’re making are all good. And if I require surgery, I won’t feel like I’m a failure. Each bite of food I put in my mouth that isn’t processed, is a success. Each bite my kids eat that is clean, is an even bigger win.
So, for right now, I’m blogging here about our journey because I’m a writer. Writing makes me feel accountable. At first, I was doing it on Facebook, but I need a place that is easier to keep up with, and eventually I’ll make a little food blog to help others, because I’m also a teacher. Every night after dinner, Chad asks if I’ve written about our meal. I’ve missed writing. This post is the length of my average chapters, and it feels good to say I wrote 2500 words, even if they aren’t for a novel. It is nice to have Chad supporting that, and I think the writing will hold us all a little more accountable. That’s where you come in to the equation. Please make sure that I keep writing, even if it’s just a short paragraph. Don’t let us give up on this. And if you’re doing the same thing we’re doing, feel free to comment with your favorite clean recipes, tricks, tips, and blogs.
