What to Eat When You Can’t Eat Much
Eczema, Total Elimination Diets, and First Foods
My poor baby has been on the eczema struggle bus essentially since she was born. At her two-month appointment her skin was so completely dry and flaky that the doctor leapt into action, prescribing an oral steroid along with a topical cream, and outlining a multi-step program for skin improvement, involving lotions, cool baths, and a special detergent that smells so good I may never stop using it on her clothes.
“Could it be my diet?” I asked.
“Maybe,” the doctor said vaguely. “When she gets a bit older we can test for allergies. If you want to try eliminating dairy and nuts you can do that and see if it helps.”
So I did try, but here’s the thing: I’m terrible at elimination diets. I don’t have the patience it takes to let all the bad stuff get out of my system. I LOVE CHEESE. And ice cream. And eggs, man! I never knew how much I truly depend on eggs until I cut them out of my diet when the baby’s allergy panel came back at 6 months indicating an egg white allergy. The panel also showed sensitivities to a few nuts and cow’s milk.
This most recent dermatologist follow-up, though, was not great. Her skin was mostly clear (hallelujah, steroid cream) but she had a rash around her mouth and on her thumbs that the PA wasn’t impressed with. I told her that it was maybe the peanut butter I’d taken to eating. She told me to cut it and come back again in three weeks.
I went home defeated. But also: ready to truly eliminate.
A friend had previously told me about Dr. Sears’ Total Elimination Diet, which is so depressingly limited — essentially all you can eat for the first two weeks are sweet potatoes, rice, millet, pears, turkey, lamb, and zucchini — that I took one look at it and decided it wasn’t going to happen. But now, in a headspace to truly eliminate, I was ready. I bought pears. I bought lamb. I bought Cream of Rice cereal. (I did not, however, buy rice milk, because apparently it’s gone out of fashion. I couldn’t find it anywhere.) I got ready.
And…I lasted three days. Like I said. I’m no good at elimination diets.
But I haven’t completely given up, because gosh darn it, I will heal this girl’s skin. What I did was switch my strategy and expand my diet a bit. Currently, I’m dairy-free, egg-free, nut-free (including peanuts, tree nuts, and coconut products), gluten-free, fish-free, and shellfish-free. Say that five times fast. If her skin is still suffering at the end of next week, I’ll also give up citrus, strawberries, coffee, and chocolate. Corn, oats, and beans/pulses aren’t out yet, but they may have to go if things still aren’t improving.
It’s not fun. Truly. But at least I can eat more than the same rotating five meals for the foreseeable future. And at least there’s (dairy-free) chocolate. And coffee. And potato chips.
More than myself, though, I feel bad for the baby. She’s at the age where she’s interested in everyone’s food, and I’m constantly having to pull her back from whatever it is she’s grabbing for. I want so much to let her nosh on the chocolate muffin at church coffee hour, or the cookies her older siblings are eating for their afternoon treat. But I can’t. Not until I figure out what’s going on with her skin once and for all.
Part of me also wonders — is it worth all this trouble? In my internet research, I came across a suggestion that it may actually be better to feed babies foods that they react to (as long as it’s not a life-threatening reaction, obviously) in order to build up the tolerance for it early. Maybe I’m doing the wrong thing by eliminating peanuts and all that other delicious, delicious junk completely.
And then, of course, there’s the feeling that I’ve somehow let the baby down. Like something I did during my pregnancy — something I ate too much of or didn’t eat enough of — caused all of this. Also: she’s dropping off her weight curve, as we discovered at her most recent appointment. I’m not feeding her enough solids to bulk her up, because I’m so overwhelmed with what she and I can’t have that I haven’t taken the time to give her what she can have. Again, the problem feels personal. Like I’m failing as a mom.
Logically, I know it’s not true — and thankfully, I have people around me who are more than willing to reassure me of that fact. I’m doing the best I can for the baby. I just want her to have clear skin, to stop itching. To be happy, for once. We’ll work through this. Even if it means no donuts or ice cream for the foreseeable future.
