I’ll never forget the day my daughter was diagnosed with celiac disease.
The doctor barely looked up from the chart, muttered something about “just avoid gluten,” and sent us on our way. No guidance. No roadmap. No education. No explanation of what this would mean for her life—or for mine as her mom.
To be honest, we actually had this experience with multiple doctors over those first few weeks. It felt like we were dismissed again and again, as though this life-altering diagnosis was just a minor inconvenience.
We drove home, and when I walked into the kitchen to make lunch, I opened the pantry and stared at the shelves. Pasta, bread, cereal, crackers… everything I had relied on to feed my family suddenly felt like poison.
And here’s the part that still brings tears to my eyes:
That day for lunch, I made a box of mac & cheese—the last one I had in the pantry. I stirred the noodles through tears, knowing it would be the last time she could eat it. I didn’t know what else to feed her. I felt like I was failing her before we had even started.
The reality is—I had some knowledge in the health world. Not what I know now, but more than the average mom. I was aware of what gluten was and had a general idea of the foods it was in. But in that moment, none of that mattered. My mind went blank. I couldn’t think of a single alternative. And more than anything, I wanted her to have one last favorite before everything changed.
The weight moms carry
If you’re here reading this, you might know exactly what that feels like:
- Standing in the grocery aisle, scanning labels you don’t understand.
- Looking for all the hidden names of gluten you’re just supposed to magically know at diagnosis.
- Worrying about school lunches, birthday parties, sleepovers, and travel.
- Wondering if you’ll ever feel confident again about what’s safe and what isn’t.
- Feeling the crushing guilt of not knowing sooner, of wondering if the damage has already been done.
- Having 100 questions and feeling like no one knows how to answer them.
- Feeling guilty that it could be something “so much worse,” yet still feeling completely crushed.
I want you to know—you are not failing. You are carrying more than most people will ever see. And the fact that you’re searching, reading, and trying means you’re already the mom your child needs.
Our diet wasn’t the only thing that changed
That first week was messy. I threw out bags of food, cried in the grocery store parking lot, and Googled more than I’d like to admit. I felt like every familiar rhythm of our home had been upended.
But slowly, as the dust began to settle, I realized something important:
This wasn’t really about losing foods.
This was about gaining health.
It was about watching my daughter’s bones finally get the strength they needed to grow. About knowing her body would begin to absorb the calcium, vitamin D, and minerals it had been missing for so long.
It was about seeing her skin clear up, those little rashes and bumps I had brushed off as “normal kid stuff” disappearing as her gut healed and her immune system calmed down.
It was about her belly no longer aching after every meal—no more curled up on the couch, clutching her stomach, or running to the bathroom in tears.
It was about her moods softening, her patience returning, and her smile showing up more often. A child who once seemed anxious, irritable, or withdrawn was suddenly lighter, more herself, more joyful.
It was about her energy returning—playing at the park, running with her siblings, keeping up in sports and school, not crashing in exhaustion halfway through the day.
But it wasn’t just her. It changed me, too.
I found myself learning to be more present—not just rushing through mealtimes or checking off another box, but actually watching what her body was telling me. I started trusting my instincts as a mom again instead of second-guessing every symptom. And little by little, I felt my confidence grow—not because I had all the answers, but because I knew I wasn’t powerless anymore.
It was about a little girl who would grow, thrive, and live the life God designed for her—because we were willing to make changes. And it was about a mom learning that those changes weren’t just for her child’s healing—they were for her own growth, peace, and faith as well.
Why I’m sharing this
I don’t share this story because I have it all figured out (truth: I’ve had plenty of moments of overwhelm since then). I share it because I want you to know there is hope on the other side of that diagnosis.
You don’t have to figure this out alone.
You don’t have to keep guessing at labels, nutrients, or symptoms.
You don’t have to stay stuck in the fear of what-ifs.
That fear keeps you in an unhealthy place. It makes you believe you have to be in control of every single detail—that if you just research more, do more, worry more, you’ll “fix” this. But mom, that’s a lie.
That spiral is what drives your nervous system into overdrive, your thoughts into anxiety, and your heart into hopelessness. And the truth is—you were never meant to carry all of this in your own strength.
The truth I needed to hear
Here’s what I want you to hear, deep down: you were never in control.
I know it feels like everything rests on you. That if you miss one label or forget one detail, the whole world will collapse. But the truth is—this is part of your story, part of your child’s story, and part of what God is writing for your family.
He is not surprised by this diagnosis. He is not shaken by your tears. He is not absent in the aisles of the grocery store or when you’re making mac & cheese through sobs. He is present. He is near. He is guiding.
The same God who knit your child together in your womb (Psalm 139) also knows every cell, every immune response, every nutrient deficiency, every fear in your heart. And He has entrusted you with this child—not because you have to hold it all together—but because He will.
When I finally shifted from “I have to fix this” to “Lord, I trust You to guide me”—the weight didn’t disappear overnight, but the crushing pressure lifted. I could breathe again. I could see that this diagnosis was not the end of my daughter’s story, but the beginning of a new chapter.
So what’s the next step?
If you’re in that place—where mac & cheese feels like the end of everything familiar—I want you to know it’s actually the beginning of something better.
That’s why I created the Celiac Confidence Method: to walk alongside moms like you, not just with the “what to eat” part, but with the deeper healing—gut repair, nutrient restoration, and building a safe, thriving family rhythm that doesn’t feel like an impossible burden.
It’s the education, the roadmap, the guidance, the answers to the questions I wish had been there for me.
You can learn more about the Celiac Confidence Method.
Take a deep breath. You don’t need to have all the answers today. But you do need to take the next step.
If you don’t have a celiac diagnosis but suspect it’s part of your child’s health story, I created a free guide to help you catch symptoms early, track them for your doctor, and advocate for testing that will give you answers.
