Please Don't Feel Sorry For Us!

Did you know it's impossible to feel sorry for yourself and be thankful at the same time? In other words, when I am tempted to crawl under the covers and cry about the fact that Valerie is not able to be like other kids, I cannot, at that same moment, be grateful I have her as my daughter.

It came to me today, yet again, that there are so many opportunities to be thankful in the midst of plenty more occasions to be discouraged. The mental battle began when I started fixing dinner, or, more accurately, when I'm tried to decide what to fix for dinner. There's always a tiny part of me that wishes we could just eat Normal Food.

Normal Food is cheaper. Normal Food often tastes better. Normal Food is easier and faster to cook.

A good friend recently commented after I served him a strange combination of ingredients (and then apologized for it because I would like to serve him Normal Food just one time), "But what is normal food? That could be different for everybody."  That was a good reminder.  Why am I always afraid to be seen as strange or different? Why does it bother me that our special foods cannot be bought at the cheaper grocery stores, but have to be hunted down in obscure backwoods shops or ordered online?

If you are like me, you are used to people saying, "Oh, no! Your child can't eat that? HOW do you cope?"  or even worse, "What CAN she eat?!?"  I don't get offended, but it do get tired of explaining, "There are a lot of things she can have, but not much that most people call convenience foods!"

Maybe you are just starting out on the food allergy journey, and you're feeling helpless. Please know that I have been there, roaming the aisles of grocery stores, reading labels til I cannot see straight, only to realize that I should just make it myself.

I have found there are some people who are so emotionally attached to their cheese and their wheat bread that they almost have a heart attack when I tell them calmly that we just find other things to eat. It's very meaningful, then, when a friend who not only understands that one must read the labels, offers to cook or bake something for us, and then goes over the ingredients with me one more time before we serve it.

With Valerie, I have often had to firmly (but kindly!) remind people that they must not feel sorry for her that she cannot eat the cake or the cookies or the fun food that is dangerous for her. She is used to eating other things, and needs to be praised for taking good care of herself. She doesn't need their pity; she needs people who will help her be thankful.

Here are the positives we have to be grateful for with Valerie:

• We are grateful that she is alive and well. 
• We are grateful that her body reacts by vomiting up a dangerous substance, instead of keeping it in the system and shutting down her airways.  
• We are grateful that she understands why she must not eat certain things, because she is now old enough to understand and articulate how she feels.

We are also grateful that there is more to life than food.

If I focus all my meal making efforts on whether Valerie will enjoy or hate the food I serve or react to it or thrive on it, I miss the whole point of loving my little girl. Loving her means appreciating her for who she is and how she was wonderfully made by her Creator. It means reminding her that while she does not have to like everything I give her, she has the opportunity to choose to be thankful for it.

Because at the end of the day, it's just food. And at the end of the day, we are spoiled rotten that we get so much of it.