Yelling at God

It’s been a day.  Hell… it’s been a year, and it’s not quite over yet.

I realize I’ve been silent on this blog for a long time.  A L-O-N-G time.  Almost eight months at this point, if my math is correct.  I certainly never intended to go so long without publishing anything, but our family has been in “survival mode” for much of this year.  And finding the time to write when I actually have energy, creativity and cohesive thoughts has been a bit like herding cats… just not happening. 

Until today. 

What changed, you ask?

I’m yelling at God.

Yes, you read that correctly:  I’m admittedly, unabashedly, unapologetically yelling at God.  I have had enough of the insanity that I have been dealing with for years and it is catching up with me.  Kiddo’s insanely early birth and the toll it has taken on us has been completely draining on all accounts:  physical, mental, emotional, spiritual, parental, marital, sexual, financial and energetic.

I am drained.  We are drained.  And I have little left to give.  The constant stress has been taking a huge toll on my physical health, and everything came to a head today.  And I needed to write because I can’t stand the feeling of insanity any longer.  So, even if I’m the only one to read what I write and (eventually) publish, I don’t care.  I just have to do it.  I need the relief this cathartic process will bring.  So I hope you’ll stay with me.  (And if you really don’t like the idea of me yelling at God, then you probably should just bail right now.  I’m not apologetic in the least for expressing how I feel, and I plan to do exactly that.)

Before I get to the details about today, let me back up for just a bit.

If you’ve read my prior posts, you’re aware that our family agreed to implement a (primarily) Paleo food plan mid-February.  We did a lot of research about what was involved, designed a plan and then jumped in together.  The impetus for our change was to help Kiddo’s behavior improve, but Hubby and I agreed we could use some major upgrades in our own health, so we were on board from the start.  (Truth be told, I was on board much more quickly than he was, but he came around eventually.)  The beginning date for our official transition was February 16th -- more than thirty-eight (!) weeks ago.

Before I go into the details of how I’ve experienced some health changes, I want to acknowledge that there is a wide definition of what “Paleo” means in the health-conscious and food-driven communities.  And, like most other programs or belief systems, there are rabid fans who take things to extremes.  God forbid I actually eat a regular potato or white rice in some circles… I’d be shunned!  And if you’re reading this and know anything about me, you know I’m not going to let some asshat shame me because I enjoyed a tuber with my grass-fed, humanely-raised beef hamburger.  I just don’t operate that way.

So, rather than getting attached to a specific definition (especially “low-carb” – that really doesn’t do the Paleo focus justice), we have decided that we are eating a “low-crap” diet:  delicious, whole foods, which include pastured eggs, naturally-cured or grass-fed meats (whenever possible), lots of organic fruits and veggies (we prefer locally-sourced) and healthy fats.  We also have removed grains such as wheat, barley, rye and others with gluten as the main protein, since they are a huge challenge for our health and a big contributor to inflammation, autoimmune challenges (more on that later for me), and neurological function (especially important for Kiddo and his challenges).

As we got rolling with our primarily-Paleo plan, we experienced some initial detox as our systems cleared the foods we were no longer eating.  Kiddo had a temp for about three days with no other symptoms; I had what felt like a sinus infection for about a week and Hubby didn’t seem the least bit affected.  (No surprise there; he rarely gets ill and, when he does, seems to clear it pretty quickly.)

After we got through that period, we all started feeling great.  Kiddo’s behavior began improving at school, his ability to take direction and complete his work also got better, and he actually gained a little bit of weight, which is a huge deal for him.  Hubby noticed his own IBS disappeared, and he began sleeping better, which was a great improvement for him after dealing with chronic insomnia for 20+ years.

My health changes were profound.  In the first 6 weeks alone, my cholesterol dropped 34 points (all the while eating bacon!), my blood sugar came down 10 points (from just above “normal” to well into the “normal” range) and my blood pressure dropped as well.  As a matter of fact, I didn’t even realize how much it had come down until I got a cuff to monitor it and started tracking it on a daily basis.  After realizing my meds were making me dizzy, I said “buh-bye” to them and haven’t looked back!  In addition to all of those lovely changes, I shed 21 pounds in the first 17 weeks on our Paleo plan.  Things felt great through February and March… until they didn’t.

By the end of March, I was feeling very sluggish and tired, having bursts of anxiety that seemed to come out of nowhere, experiencing heart palpitations and general depression, and felt like I was dragging around two large cement blocks as legs every day.  I checked in with my doctor and she wanted to run blood work to check on my thyroid, so we did.  At the time, she tested my TSH (Thyroid Stimulating Hormone) level and everything came back within the “normal” range.  She suggested I wasn’t getting enough carbs so I agreed to eat more of them.  And I did.  But I still didn’t feel better.  I actually even felt a bit worse.

In mid-April, I went on a weekend tour with a handbell group of which I’m a member, and had some anxiety about maintaining this eating plan while on the road.  Our tour coordinator was very helpful and accommodating in planning where we would eat so I would have choices, and sharing dietary info with our hosts.  And I spent a good bit of time talking with others who eat gluten-free and/or Paleo diets about how they handle things when they’re away from home and not cooking for themselves.  I was as prepared as I could be at that time.

Still, I was having these bouts of anxiety that would just burst out of nowhere and I didn’t know what to do with myself.  (A few of them even happened in the middle of our concerts on that tour, and I’ve been playing in front of audiences for enough years to know they had nothing to do with performance anxiety.)  I put it off to being nervous about traveling with so many new things to consider, being new to the Paleo lifestyle, being away from home, or whatever other thing that made sense at the time.  It wasn’t until I was home and still experiencing the same symptoms – and they were getting worse -- that I realized something was really off.

Fast-forward to June.  We had a planned session with the psychologist who works with our family (the same person who encouraged us to eliminate the gluten, dyes and preservatives) and I shared that I still was feeling awful and had been since the end of March.  She asked about my blood work and suggested, despite the normal TSH results that came back, something “wasn’t right” and suggested I check back with my doctor for more info.

Thankfully, I had established myself with a Naturopathic Doctor in November of last year, so I planned a consult with her to look at more specifics and determine a plan of action.  She wanted more, in-depth blood work done which, thankfully, my primary could order.  (Side note:  while I am incredibly grateful to the advances in Western medicine for saving Kiddo’s life and mine, it is incredibly lacking when it comes to looking deeply enough into some things, and considering that a “normal” range isn’t necessarily normal for everyone.  This is one of them.) 

Of course, it took more time to get back in to see my primary care physician, get the tests ordered and done, and then get the results.  (At least I can access them online myself so I know when they’re done and what the results are.)  I had the tests done in early August and met with her for my physical a few weeks later.  The results of that blood work confirmed our suspicion:  though my TSH was normal, there was a high antibody presence in my thyroid, which indicated an auto-immune response.  In a nutshell, my body was attacking my thyroid, causing it to malfunction.

Since then, I’ve had other tests done as well, to monitor cortisol levels in my body (literally off the charts in some cases; 2.5 to 10 times higher than the optimal range) and an ultrasound on my thyroid to rule out cancer.  I didn’t suspect that was present and, thankfully, the images confirmed my hunch was correct.  It did show some nodes (“goiters”) but nothing abnormal or threatening in size or shape.  (We will be monitoring those over time.)

As disappointing as it was to hear that this was happening, it was also a bit of a relief to get information that helped describe why I had been feeling so terrible.  If you’ve ever experienced thyroid challenges (either hyper- or hypo-), then you understand how incredibly draining the process is.  In my case, the symptoms pointed to “Hashimoto’s thyroiditis” (my primary’s suspected diagnosis) and I was referred to an endocrinologist.  At that time, the earliest appointment available was… wait for it… the end of January.

Fortunately, at the end of September, I was made aware of a cancellation for today.  So I jumped on it right away.  At that point, waiting another six weeks was not nearly as tough to stomach as it would have been to go into next year.

So… back to today.

I felt pretty decent going into today’s appointment in terms of my preparation.  I had handled all of the screening paperwork, brought my slew of supplements (which, I must say, have been the only things helping me stay functional at this point), printed copies of all of my lab reports for adrenal/cortisol testing, blood work, basal temperature and more and arrived in plenty of time.  I read up on thyroid challenges, possible courses of treatment, side effects of potential medications, questions to ask and more.  I was ready.  Well… I thought I was ready.

After meeting the doctor and going through my history, symptoms, supplements and lab results, he did another ultrasound on my thyroid.  All the while, he was talking to me about Hashimoto’s – the cause, symptoms, and such – which was all information I knew because of the time I’ve researched my symptoms over the past eight months.  I was right in step with him.  Or so I thought.

When the ultrasound was over, he started wrapping up the appointment and told me I’d need a follow-up visit in six months to monitor a couple of small cysts he found during his exam.

Wait.  What?  Just a follow-up?

Yes, just a follow-up.

But what about…   and I went through the list again.  The symptoms:  feeling like the walking dead on a regular basis; cold hands and feet out of nowhere; loss of mental clarity and function; low basal temperature (I run an average of 97.2 most days); insomnia when I need to sleep, yet yawning and feeling exhausted all day long.  The list went on.

And he replied that everything “looked normal” and there is nothing to do but wait and monitor the cysts on my thyroid.

Oh, dear God.  I’m going to go crazy if I have to wait.  I’ve already been feeling like shit for eight months and now I’m going to need to wait six more?!  No f-ing way!  What about a trial of Armor thyroid or something to see if it makes even a little impact on how I feel?  Maybe just a four-week trial?

No.  The numbers don’t indicate it.  Maybe you can find someone else who will prescribe it for you, but there is nothing wrong.

And I started crying.  Sobbing, really.  (Oh, the poor intern he had with him.  She clearly was uncomfortable and didn’t know what to do with herself while seeing me come unglued.)  I think my mouth said something like this:

But, see, I know my body.  And something IS wrong.  Or, at least, something’s not right.  I know my TSH is “normal” but my body isn’t feeling that way.  And the antibodies are high.  And I’m desperate.  I need help.  I’m in a chronic stress situation.  I have a kid with Cerebral Palsy and an empty bank account.  And he needs therapies and care givers and we’re trying to figure out how to afford them.  And we desperately need respite but can’t find it.  I can barely function and I’m gaining weight for no reason and I KNOW something isn’t right… and now I’m leaving here with nothing.  You were supposed to tell me you could do something for me today.  I need help.  Where do I go from here?

Have I mentioned yet that he looked at me like I had three heads?  I think he was completely unprepared for the litany of concerns and questions (and, of course the sobbing) and by the sheer fact that I didn’t just go quietly when he said so.  (And that poor intern.  I’m quite certain she’ll remember my visit as a learning experience.  It’s kind of funny to me now.  Total deer-in-the-headlights moment.  I certainly can’t blame her.)

“Well, you’ll need to go back to your primary care physician.”

I’m not sure all of what he said after that but I know it was something about anti-depressants (tried a couple of different ones already; had significant weight gain with two of them, and a horrible, scary reaction to a third), gastric bypass (already had that consult; it’s not an option for me right now for many reasons) and something else I don’t quite remember.  He did agree to run a urinalysis-based adrenal test and wrote the order before I left, but it was clear he put it in the category of throwing spaghetti to the wall in the hopes of something sticking.  He reminded me of the need to set up a six-month follow-up, and I gathered up my things and thanked him (and the intern, poor gal) for their time.

I barely made it to the check-out area before the sobs started again.  I cried the whole way through the check-out process (the gal helping me was such a gem; thoughtful in asking if she could be of help but, thankfully, not reciting trite platitudes), all the way down the hall, up to catch one of my friends in the massage center (she wasn’t there) and out to the parking ramp.  By the time I got to my car, I could barely breathe.  I felt so alone and so hopeless.  How could God bring me this far and then dump out?

I knew I wasn’t safe to drive home so I sat there for a moment, thinking, “Where can I go?  What can I do?  I need to talk to someone but I don’t know who.  Hubby’s still in class and I need someone now.”  And then I realized I was only two blocks away from my church.  I knew I needed to go there.

I had no idea if our Senior Pastor was available, but I knew deep down that I needed to talk with him.  My faith has been tested so much these past eight years, but today felt like the breaking point.  Like, if I don’t find even a mustard seed’s worth of faith, I’m going to lose it forever.

So I drove over there and went in.  I asked if he was available, but I was told he was in a meeting.  As I turned to leave, the receptionist must have realized how close I was to my breaking point and she said, “Hang on just a minute – I’ll see if I can snag him.”  I’m so grateful she did.

As soon as he saw me, he reached out and put his arm around me and then walked me to a private office.  He sat with me for a moment while I sobbed and tried to pull myself together enough to speak so he could understand me.  Somehow, I managed to concisely spill all the details of what this year has been like (kiddo, financial challenges, marital stress, feeling like shit all the time, and more), with the kicker of today’s surprise.

I remember saying, “Who in the world would think results that say “nothing’s wrong” would be a reason for me to fall apart?!  I should be celebrating that, right?  But I know something’s not right and I feel like I’ve been sent home to just deal with it.  And I’m not sure how much more of this I can take.  What kind of sick irony is it that I get the “clean” bill of health and I feel like the rug has been completely pulled out from under me again?”  (The last time I had this feeling was January 5, 2010, when we got Kiddo’s “official” diagnosis of Cerebral Palsy.  It was an equally unpleasant sensation then, too.)

We talked about the year and the hardships my family has faced.  And how it’s been tough to talk about them to many people.  Who really understands what a long-term care-giving situation looks like until they’ve done it personally for some time?  Who else really gets the exhaustion and frustration and hand-wringing, gut-wrenching pain, grief and challenges that come with a special-needs situation except another person in the same boat?  Who understands what it feels like to see the medical bills pile up, hassle the insurance rejections month after month and yet know that, despite the negative checking account balance, the therapies have to go on as a matter of sheer survival?  Who can relate to the incredible amount of resources – time, energy and money – that having a Kiddo like ours requires?

And where… where, oh where… is God in all of this?  Really.  Why do I feel like I’m doing this alone so much of the time?  Why, when I work my ass off to do the best I can, help where needed, spend thoughtfully, give generously and remain grateful, does it feel like the shit storm keeps blowing our way?  Why are we on a sinking ship with only a teaspoon to bail us out?

And he said the most surprising thing to me in response.  I remember it verbatim because it was so unexpected.  He said, “So, how long has it been since you’ve yelled at God?”

What?

He repeated, "How long has it been since you’ve yelled at God?"

Oh, my word – I started laughing so hard… really deep, good old belly-clenching laughter.  Never in a million years could I have imagined something like that coming out of my pastor’s mouth.  And it was exactly what I needed to hear.

Once I collected myself, I told him that I thought I yelled often enough that I was probably already on God’s “shit list” and that I was trying to focus on gratitude a lot more, rather than get caught up in the “glass is half-empty” perspective.  After chuckling, he replied, while he appreciated that perspective, there is a time for gratitude and a time for yelling.  And then he suggested maybe it’s high time I did a bit more yelling.  We’ve gone through so much the last eight years and we need a break – a number of breaks, actually.  And good ones.  Positive ones.  We need some slack.  Some help.  Some respite.  Some breathing room.  Some resources.  Some hope.  Some love.

He referenced the Psalms and how full of emotion they are – people crying and questioning and yelling at God, asking where He has gone and why they are dealing with the struggles they have.  And he reminded me that it’s all okay.  It’s okay that I’m frustrated by the heavy load we carry.  It’s okay that I get pissed off by people who repeat trite platitudes instead of really plugging in and paying attention.  (You know not to push that “button” of mine by now, I’m sure.)  It’s okay to question if I even have a mustard seed’s worth of faith in my heart anymore, and yell at God for what feels like abandonment.  And, while I already knew these things to be true, it was so helpful to hear him say it is all okay.

I try to live my life based in compassion and love for others, considering what they need and how I might be of assistance.  I do my best to be thoughtful and careful, and draw on my intuition and discernment when making major decisions.  I know I have a sharp tongue and a quick wit and think of those traits as assets; they are interesting and fun and add levity where needed.  Hubby and I have been careful in choosing how and when to settle down, start a family, and more.  And yet our road has been incredibly tough.  The terrain, at times, has seemed almost impossible to navigate.  Our journey since Kiddo’s birth has been exhausting with no end in sight.  And it feels horribly unfair much of the time, given all of the energy I have put into shaping how I live out my life on this planet.

Yep.  I said it.

Unfair.

I thought maybe I’d hear something in response from my pastor that echoed the “life isn’t fair” sentiment, but I should have known better based on the kind of man he is.  He said, “You know, Julie… I think you’re right.  This all really isn’t fair.  I hate it when the people I love hurt or have tough things happen to them.  Yet, look at all you and (Hubby) are doing for (Kiddo).  Most of us would have given up long ago.  But not you.  You are still going.  You have tenacity of spirit like none I’ve ever seen.  You are running a marathon that most of us would have quit long ago.”

I laughed and replied, “Well, maybe I’m running the marathon, but I’m one of those runners who will take an additional two days to finish the race.  When I cross the finish line, it’s long after the celebration has happened and everyone else has gone home.”

And then he said, “Well, maybe so.  But here’s the thing:  I know you’ll get up again the next morning and start another marathon while everyone else is still recovering.”

Wow.  Really?  I don’t know what to say to that.

“It’s your love, Julie.  It’s your love for (Kiddo) and (Hubby) that keeps you running, long after everyone else has gone home.  And that is really the power of God.  So go ahead and yell at Him.  He can take it.  He might even deserve it from you right now.  His love is already shining through you.  He’s not going to leave you because you’re angry at Him right now.  So go ahead and yell at Him.”

So, here I am, 3900+ words later, just beginning to yell at God.  And I doubt I’m anywhere near finished.  But I’m calling it good for tonight because it’s late and I'm tired and I have a new marathon to start tomorrow.

Car Conversation - Zippers

One of the best parts of driving with kiddo in the car is the funny, interesting, non-stop conversation that inevitably ensues.  On the way home from receiving massages at IME/KCHA Student Clinic today, I’m certain I heard no less than a half-dozen “Hey, Mom…” starts to whatever question was on his mind.  We went though the usual suspects with me answering appropriately, though there were other thoughts in my mind…

Hey – there’s that Crystal Car Wash!  (He knows them all by name.)  Why haven’t we gone through that one yet?

(Because, dear child, I try to fill up the gas tank without you around; inevitably, it saves me $7.  I know you’ll ask for a car wash…every…single…time.  And I know I’ll cave…every…single…time.)

What snacks do we have to eat?

(Even though you just finished off a Braeburn apple the size of a small pumpkin not even 10 minutes ago?!  Thank God for the little baggie of cashews hiding out in my cooler!  The question is…do I really want to share them with you?)

What’s for dinner when we get home?

(Hopefully, leftover chicken; because I’m already past the 12-hour point of my day and don’t feel a bit like cooking.  Oh…and your dad better not have decided to eat it for lunch or he’s doing the cooking!)

Speaking of dinner…

Did I know that he and hubby made up a new game called “Bed Taco”?  Apparently, it involves every single piece of bedding in his room and all of the stuffed animals he could find.

(Fantastic!  No need to make the bed each day – just initiate a game of Bed Taco!  Side note:  teach kiddo how to fold sheets over Spring Break; I’m not picking up all that shit!)

Did I know that he eats lunch in the cafeteria at his new school and not the gym, like he did in the old school?

(Yes, dear.  It’s a much bigger school; it has nothing to do with trying to handle lunch and dodge ball at the same time.)

…and then, he surprised me by wanting to talk about how he was born.

He’s heard the story enough that this isn’t a new conversation, but I’m always curious to hear his take on things, and learn what part of it he’s interested in exploring more.

Today’s exchange went something like this:

Kiddo:  So I came out of your belly, right?

Me:  Yes.

Kiddo:  And not between your legs.

Me (surprised that he knew this information, and curious where he heard it since we haven’t had that conversation…yet):  That's correct.  Where did you hear about that?

Kiddo (with an enormous grin):  Super powers!  Just kidding -- Dad told me.

Me (surprised again; note to self to congratulate hubby on handling it himself, rather than telling kiddo to ask me):  Oh.  What else did he tell you?

Kiddo:  That they used a really cool staple gun to put your belly back together.

Me (not in the least surprised at this info; after all, tools are cool!):  Yes, they used staples.

Kiddo:  So, do you have a hole there?

Me (cautiously asking):  A hole where?

Kiddo:  Where they put the staples!

Me:  No.  My skin eventually healed up where they had cut me.

Kiddo:  I'm not sure I understand...

Me (struggling to find an analogy):  I guess the best way to describe it is to think of a zipper...they cut my skin and muscles and pulled them apart to make an opening so they could take you out.  Then, they stitched the muscles and skin back together to close it.

Kiddo:  You mean with the staples.

Me:  Yes, they used staples, too.

Kiddo:  That would be cool, too.

Me:  What would be cool?

Kiddo:  If you really had a zipper in your belly so when you had a baby, the doctor could just zip it open and ‘Plop!’ the baby would come out.  Then, they could just zip you right up again.

Me (trying to keep the car on the road while enjoying a great belly laugh):  Yes, Kiddo – that would be quite awesome!  It would have been a whole lot easier if I could have just zipped you out.  Maybe you’ll figure out how to invent a procedure like that some day.

Kiddo:  Yeah!  Hey – let’s tell Dad when we get home!

Keeping Pace with the White Lion

I can’t believe how quickly the past month has flown!  I don’t know about you, but I have felt like this year has been in fast-forward mode since it began.  And the transition to Daylight Savings Time last week surely hasn’t helped me feel like things have slowed down, either.

At any rate, Friday marked the end of week four of our Paleo food experiment and we are still happily rolling along.  I realized I haven’t posted an update since we started; most likely because I’ve been spending most of my “free time” (whatever that is) looking up recipes that fit the Paleo profile, shopping for the necessary goods to produce said recipes, or in the kitchen, actually making them.  Since I have a chicken in the crock pot (on a bed of potatoes, no less) and know that dinner is cooking itself, I thought today was as good a time as any to let you know how we’re doing.

I’m thrilled to report that hubby, kiddo and I all have noticed positive changes in how our bodies feel:

Hubby’s past challenges with IBS have disappeared and believes he is sleeping better.  That last part is especially significant for him, since he’s had challenges with insomnia on a regular basis for more than twenty years.

I have shed somewhere around ten pounds thus far.  I only weigh myself once or twice each month (and strictly with the intention of getting information), so I actually may be down a little more than that.  I’ll find out sometime next week where the numbers fall.  I’ve felt so much changing in my body that it’s actually been fun to get on the scales and see numbers that confirm my progress.  Prior to this, I don’t think you’d ever hear me use the words “fun” and “scales” in the same sentence.  Yee and haw!

Kiddo has reported feeling less “scattery” (his word) even though school days still feel “too long for me sometimes, Mom.”  In addition, we are getting reports from the school staff who work with kiddo that his behavior has been steadily improving (for the most part) over the past month.  Hot damn!

The progress in kiddo’s behavior alone is enough reason to celebrate what we’ve done thus far and motivate us to continue with this food experiment.  If you had told me at the beginning that we had to do thirty days, I would have bailed right then.  The challenge to go full-out Paleo already felt like it was significant and, while I was ready to give it an honest try, the two-week window was what made the agreement possible for me to say “yes."  In talking with my boys, that’s what they thought, too.

When we first began eating in the Paleo profile, we were hungry.  Ravenously hungry.  All the time.  And we were eating.  Ravenously eating.  All the time.  Seriously – I can’t tell you how much protein and how many fruits & veggies we went through the first week.  We were so hungry that we joked about the “Angry Birds” game we like to play online.  We swore then (and still do at times) that the birds aren’t saying “angry”…they’re actually saying “hungry."  That is why they’re so angry!  No doubt, they want to kill the pigs because they’re hungry and have bacon on the brain.  Ha!

At the same time we felt so hungry, we also felt incredibly satisfied.  I know -- it sounds strange, doesn’t it?  Unlike diets <shudder> of the past, the Paleo perspective is one that encourages us to eat what we want, when we want it.  Breakfast, lunch and dinner can be any combination of whatever we want from the many food choices available.  Craving steak and potatoes for breakfast?  Go right ahead.  Scrambled eggs and bacon for dinner?  Sure thing – help yourself!

The hunger I experienced was more of a “Hey, woman…your body is actually using the fuel you’re giving it, so you need to give it more!” type of feeling.  What a breath of fresh air from the feelings of deprivation I have experienced on past food plans that were based on restriction!  In talking with hubby and kiddo, I found out they felt the same way that I did – hungry, yet satisfied with what they were eating.  It was just a matter of adjusting how much we were eating and when.

And kiddo, especially, ate a lot.  One day, he ate more for breakfast than hubby and I combined!  Initially, I thought we were going to break the bank with our grocery budget, but a number of friends who have gone this route assured me things would start to level off.  Thankfully, they were correct.  Actually, as I compared our food expenses for the past month with the prior ones, I found out we are spending a bit less.  I’m not surprised, since the only items we’re bringing home in cans or boxes have very few ingredients in them.  Almost everything we’re buying comes from a natural, non- or minimally-processed source.

We met with the doctor who is helping us navigate this plan again last week to talk about our progress and look at what foods we want to add back in (a little at a time) to see how our bodies react.  Hubby is really missing bread, so we found a local bakery that specializes in items that fit pretty well with the Paleo profile and snagged a loaf that he can use for sandwiches.  Pizza has been about the only thing I’ve craved along the way, so we found a crust mix that was pretty decent (though, I’m sure, hard-core Paleo folks would shudder) and non-dairy “cheese” shreds that, when melted, have the same mouth feel and stringiness that I would expect on a pizza.  Kiddo’s request was for chips (though there were a lot of other processed goodies he’d like back!) so we were able to find some that are very simply made.  And those tweaks were enough to satisfy the cravings we had while not setting back the progress we’ve been making.

And we want to be careful what we re-introduce and how we do it.  The main focus of this experiment has been to see if we can help kiddo’s behavior improve without using major medication, so we’re moving at a cautious pace.  We know from past experience how sensitive his system is to medication, and are finding out that’s equally true for food.  So as to not overwhelm him, we are trying one new thing at a time and waiting a few days before trying it again.  We tried rice pasta once that seemed to be okay but, a few days later, rice-based bread seemed to get a negative hit.  It may or may not have been the food (our thought is that one of his sensitivities is to yeast), so we need to let his system be clear of it for about a week and we’ll try again.  If we get another hit, then we can explore the individual ingredients in the bread to see if we can narrow down what is irritating him.

Yes, it is a labor-intensive process but it’s one that we have fully embraced.  If you know me, you already know I don’t like to half-ass any project I take on; I’m either in or I’m out.  Kinda like the Yoda thing – “Do or do not; there is no try.”  How in the world can I not “do” when it comes to my precious kiddo?!

When we began the experiment, the doctor asked us what our biggest fears were.  Hubby indicated that he was worried he’d never get to eat bread again.  (Yes, he’s usually a smart-ass like that; no worries – he knows it and owns it.)  My response was that we’d put in a lot of hard work and time to try this experiment but not get any results.  I can handle not eating certain foods ever again; it’s the thought of not being able to help kiddo have a better quality of life that keeps me up at night.

The blessing is that we’ve already been seeing progress.  In addition to what I mentioned earlier in this post, we are seeing better behavior from kiddo at home on a regular basis.  In the past two weeks, I haven’t had to send him to his room even once!  I’m not sure if you realize how significant that is, so let me give you a little background:

About a year ago, we had to remove almost everything from kiddo’s room, bolt his furniture to the wall and put his box spring and mattress on the floor because of his violent outbursts.  He was unsafe to us, the pets and pretty much anything in his path and we had to have a safe place to contain him when he was in full-on meltdown mode.  He tore things up, threw anything not nailed down, and hit/kicked/bit us on a regular basis when he came unglued.  And it broke my heart.  I know he doesn’t know how to be in his body any differently than how he has been, and it’s not his fault he’s wired that way.

Over time, he’s gotten receptive to being “herded” down the hallway to his room as he’s melting down and has gotten better about calming himself down without as much turmoil.  A few times, he even walked down the hallway himself and sat down on his bed to calm down.  And now, he’s pulling himself together with just a simple warning…for the most part.

We’re also having some fantastic conversations these days!  Kiddo has been quite the conversationalist for some time; the change that we’re seeing is his focus on whatever conversation is at hand.  In the past, he maintained the attention span of a gnat and completely missed information told to him directly because his brain was still working on something else.  Now, we are seeing more clarity in his conversation and the ability to focus for longer periods of time.  Recently, kiddo was in the office where I work and sat down to chat with my boss.  She commented afterward about how that was the first conversation they’d had where he actually sat still to talk with her for a solid five minutes.  It’s great to get feedback from others who know kiddo that they, too, are seeing positive changes in his behavior.

It seems as if the fog is lifting and that feels hopeful.  For the first time in a long time, I feel like we have a good option that might actually be helping our precious kiddo.  And that makes my heart so happy, it could burst!  I want nothing more for kiddo than to be able to function in a way that isn’t harmful to himself or others and I think we’re onto something.

We’re keeping pace and it feels good, so the experiment will continue.

Oh, and in case you didn’t catch it in the title, we have fondly adopted “White Lion” as the name for our experiment.  Paleo = Pale + Leo.  Get it?

Stay tuned…