My life story has recently been rewritten.
About sixteen months ago I learned I was adopted. My elderly mother with dementia could no longer keep the secret she kept for 50-plus years. Sadly, I learned the truth the very same week my only sibling, my older brother Eric, passed away.
Not a day goes by when I don’t look into the mirror and wonder who I am. DNA has helped me track both maternal and paternal sides, but unfortunately my biological mother died in her forties. She never revealed who my father is in my adoption papers. I only know he is one of four brothers. I have very few photos. So I don’t know if I resemble my mother or father and I can’t ask them for their medical histories.
I have found dozens of cousins on both sides with various autoimmune diseases, including celiac disease and food allergies. I remember my adoptive mother acting like my illnesses were “all in my head.” She often said, “No one in our family has such food issues as you.” She didn’t understand why I couldn’t eat at McDonald’s.
Ha! Perhaps that should have been a red flag.
I’ll write more about genetics later. Today I just wanted to share a little about why I disappeared. I’ve missed blogging and the support of all of you who share a food-restricted life.
And now for some exciting news. This week I will be traveling to Scotland with my family to see where my biological mum and grandparents came from. I thought this adventure will be the perfect opportunity for me to resume Adventures of an Allergic Foodie. I hope you’ll join me.