A Whole30 State of Mind

If you’re a follower of my social media pages, it comes as no surprise to you that my family has started another round of Whole 30. If you’re not familiar, it’s a 30-day diet that emphasizes whole foods and during which participants eliminate sugar, alcohol, grains, legumes, soy, and dairy from their diets. It’s certainly a challenge and certainly worth the effort, but it’s a tough 30 days. The beginning of the book contains a little bit of tough love in stating something like “This is not hard. Don’t you dare say this is hard. Losing a parent is hard. Surviving cancer is hard. Drinking your coffee black is NOT. HARD.” That’s not a direct quote and I’m not sure the examples I gave are exactly the ones they reference, but you get the point. The purpose of Whole 30 is to eliminate your body of inflammatory substances, toxins, and potential allergenics to allow the participant to determine whether his or her body has an adverse reaction to such foods. It’s a cleanse in the most natural and purest sense, and like I said, it’s tough.

My family has done a successful round of Whole 30 previously and through it I learned that Whole 30 is a mentality more than a diet. It’s a complete commitment (borderline obsession) to nourishing your body with what it needs more than what your mind desires. There’s a bigger point here, I promise.

I think there’s something to this mentality. Getting back to what we need and figuring out what defines something that’s “hard” in your life. It’s all about perspective, right? The writers of Whole 30 dish out tough love in saying Whole 30 “IS NOT HARD.” There could be an argument made there (I would DEFINITELY describe Whole 30 as a challenge), but it made me start to think how spot on they were in saying eating habits are not hard. So then – what IS hard?

My family has gone through some tough times through the years (haven’t we all?), but I continue to be amazed at my mom and dad’s resilience through it all. If I’m grateful for anything they’ve taught me, it’s this. To make a very long story short, my dad (we call him Papi) took a fall that ended their Camino earlier than anticipated. [If you don’t already know, my sister (BB) and Papi went on a pilgrimage that took them from the south of France across Spain; it’s called Camino de Santiago.] He is doing much better and praise God is back home resting and recovering. If you know my family, then you know this is not the first fall we’ve had (neither literally nor figuratively). It would be easy to feel like – sheesh, really?! I wondered if as Papi was falling he had the thought ‘ugh, not again.’ That’s certainly not to say we don’t have moments like that, but my mom and dad have never dwelled on the falls we’ve taken. For all the things that have been “hard”, we’ve had a thousand as many blessings. Papi’s fall was hard (again figuratively and literally), but we’ve said repeatedly how many things went right despite all the things that went wrong.

He was there with BB who not only speaks Spanish, but speaks some medical Spanish, not to mention is a medical professional – I’ve told her she has served as a one-woman missionary for our family. He fell in one of the larger towns where there was a clinic and able to at least get an initial assessment to determine yes, it was bad enough that they needed to return home. It happened in Spain and not France (where basically everything they say sounds to me like the teacher from Charlie Brown). BB was able to keep Papi in enough health that they made it home to Houston where there is an abundance of excellent healthcare at our fingertips. The fall happened to Papi who has the mental toughness and pain tolerance of a super hero. In case you’re curious, he endured multiple rib fractures, transverse processes fractures (the little wings on your vertebrae – don’t feel bad, I had to google the name of it just now), and a punctured blood vessel had caused his lungs to fill with blood. In the midst of all that, he travelled across the world and walked into the ER on his own. Every single doctor who saw him called him a walking miracle, and they weren’t just being nice. His will, patience and compassion through it will is truly awe-inspiring.

No one could have guessed BB and Papi would endure such a shocking end to their Camino, yet neither one of them has the attitude that their journey was cut short. It would be easy to feel gypped ( <-thought that word was spelled ‘jipped’ until just now) out of an experience, but they’ve both continued on their life Caminos with the sunniest disposition. To them (and to me), it’s yet another reminder how abundantly blessed we are and how incredibly fragile life is. It is truly something to be treasured.

We continue through the “hard” times and remember all the good we have.

Regan just had her SIX MONTH appointment (what?!), and all is well! She is 24″ and 13 lb 7 oz. She is rolling over like a little doodle bug, following along perfectly on her growth curve, and we’ve started her on some solids. I told the doctor today and I’ll share with y’all – I couldn’t have hoped for anything better. One of the common misconceptions about Down syndrome kids is that they’re always happy – I gotta tell y’all, Regan is doing nothing to shatter that stereotype. She is incredibly content and is rarely very fussy, and yes, I know how lucky I am. I never could’ve guessed how much joy she would bring us in her little six months of life.

Happy Summer, y’all!