The beginning...

My name is Dominique. I am 27 years old, about to be 28, and turning 30 as my mom would put it.       Gotta love her. I've loved the same guy since high school. He's really amazing. We have a 6 year old daughter who loves to dance. We currently live in Columbus, Ga. A small city with a big city mentality. We love it, well kinda...
For the past several months, I have been really sick, like liquid diet sick. If I drank just gatorade, then I was fine. I tried adding potatoes and ramen because that is what I normally ate when i was sick. They made it worse. Nothing has been helping. I take nausea pills 3 times a day just for the chance to even function enough to get up and try to take my daughter to school, just to come home and spend an hour in the bathroom because moving made it worse. I would take my morning pill after that ritual. I would take my afternoon dose when I was able to move enough again that afternoon to get a drink. My evening dose I would take after my daughter went to bed that way I could try and get some sleep. That didn't even help, I would still wake up in the middle of the night and spend hours in the bathroom hugging the toilet. 
I was put on bed rest at the worst part. I was losing between 2-5 pounds a day. I lost over 25 pounds in about 3 weeks. I hated it. All of it. I hated being so weak that I couldn't play with my daughter. I hated that just walking across my house made me so dizzy that I would fall down my 2 short hall stairs. Yes, I fell down them several times. I couldn't avoid it, there wasn't always someone there with me. Other people had to work. But let me say I love my family.  They were there and helped as much as they could. 
The doctors thought they had it figured out. I have gastritis. So I tried following the diet they gave me. That was not working either. It was getting better, but not by much. I was still living off my nausea medicine and gatorade. Driving to work after I was taken off bed rest, now that was interesting. My first day back, I had to stop several times on the way just to calm my stomach down enough to finish the drive. 
I tried to keep going to work as long as possible but my body just could not take it anymore. I was put back on bed rest. More tests were run and more were scheduled. I started monitoring what I was eating. Even my family got into looking to see what they could find out. Possibly my gallbladder, or this, or that; lots of ifs but nothing was right. 
Then I was diagnosed with celiac disease. That means that I am unable to eat gluten, basically wheat. Which means no bread, pasta, or even beer. This disease is completely new to the family, but now that I know about it I'm learning a lot...