This month is the month my mom died. Three years ago, one Sunday morning, I was 10 weeks pregnant, we hadn’t told anyone.

My mom died from complications of Type II Diabetes. A disease which can easily be controlled through many different things; lifestyle changes, diet changes, medications, etc.

She did not take care of her body. Some could say “she just let herself go.”

Part of me is mad, even three years later. Mad, that she didn’t take better care of herself, so that she could be here. But I can not change the past, I can only change myself and my future.

Sometimes to change the future, we must understand our past.

In 6th grade on was on my middle school’s dance team. I was so excited, and I loved it. None of the other girls on the team, wanted me there. I couldn’t figure out why they would be so mean to me. I later moved (after not making the team again in 7th grade it was easier to move across the country). I played a few sports, but nothing very physically demanding.

In high school, I was in the marching band, and was able to get P.E. waved. I again played a couple of sports, but nothing very physical. In high school, I had my first knee surgery. Before graduating high school I would have 3 more. Eventually, I was diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis.

In 2005, I graduated, and left for college. I had a dream, that I was going to be an astronaut. I was book smart, but not physically fit enough. I tried for an Air Force ROTC scholarship, but was denied because I couldn’t pass the physical fitness test (PFT). I joined up my freshman year of college, anyway.

I never passed the PFT my freshman year, and then in the first few weeks of my sophomore year I was medically disqualified from ROTC. I dived into my studies, and stopped working out on a regular basis.

Later that year, I started to have severe intestinal problems. In 2006, I was told it was Irritable Bowel Syndrome (IBS), and that there wasn’t much I could do other than to avoid trigger foods.

Then in January of 2009 (my fourth year of college), I started dating my husband. We got married right after finals, and I DID NOT DO ANY DIETING. I didn’t see the point. I was a size 12/14. We got engaged so fast and with a wedding date in May of that year, I figured it was pointless.

After we got married I started dabbling in different weight loss programs. In the last 6 years I am sure we have put THOUSANDS of dollars into different programs.

November 2011, I was having horrible pains again. I had an allergy blood test done, that came back negative. I was then sent to a gastroenterologist. After going over my history, he told me that 90% of his IBS patients are lactose intolerant, and to go off all dairy for a month and see if that helps.

It seemed like I was cured. After the month we tried lactose free cheese. Only to have an immediate reaction.  At my follow-up I was told, that I had a milk protein allergy. Later, I was talking to my doctor about this new diagnoses. Her response was, to watch for more symptoms, this could be Celiac disease. But she did not want to subject me to an endoscopy that at this point, she felt would be negative.

When we started trying to have our first child, I started to try a little more seriously about losing weight and getting physically fit.

In 2012, I signed up with a group of friends to run a 120-mile 12 man relay race. I started running regularly, and LOVED IT! I was running 10Ks every other weekend. We found out we were finally expecting in June after 2 years of waiting. I kept running, albeit, I was much slower and fatigued quickly.

Then on July 15th, I remember thinking, “Who keeps calling!?! It is Sunday morning, and I just want to sleep in!” I finally got up to answer my phone. I had multiple missed calls from my mom’s number, my dad, my older sister, and multiple texts of “CALL DAD, NOW!”

My mom died, early that morning, of a massive heart attack caused by complications of type II diabetes.

I took time off from running, to deal with this tragedy, and just couldn’t get back into it while pregnant.

I tried to remain active during my pregnancy, but it was all I could do to not become lost and depressed. Mr. Wonderful has been and is always there the help pick me up when I start to fall apart when I miss her.

After Mr. Z, was born it took months before I started to get active. I always justified it; I am breastfeeding, he can’t go in the jogging stroller yet.

Gut and health wise, things were fine until after Mr. Z was born, and I started to have more problems. I was diagnosed with postpartum depression and was seeing a Naturopath, per recommendation of my primary care doctor.

Naturopaths are great, because they look at the whole body and mind, not just what is the current aliment. The Naturopath recommended an elimination diet to see if there were more food allergies. After 8 weeks, we found that I react badly to gluten, corn, and dairy.

Almost a year later, and never being perfect on avoiding trigger foods, I was having extreme discomfort. After meeting with my doctor, I tried the FODMAP diet. Found that legumes and the whole broccoli and kale family (brassicas) are triggers.

In January 2015, with my list of foods to avoid having grown to gluten, dairy, legumes, brassicas, and corn, we decided to go Paleo. I also started working out consistently, I started running again, I was counting calories. In 6 months, I yo-yo’d by 15-20 pounds, I was frustrated. I went into my doctor, distraught by my results and effort. She told me that because of my family history, I couldn’t lose weight, but kudos for working out.

I was upset. I took a few days, and then decided to go back to the naturopath I had seen two years ago. At our first appointment she said that something has to be wrong put me on a new plan and ordered a bunch of test. At our second appointment, we re-evaluated things and she suggested Whole30. Which brings us to today, July 1st, 2015. Whole30 round 1, and the start of this blog.


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