Coeliac Since 18: A Life in Crumbs (and Comebacks)

By someone who has eaten more rice cakes than any human ever should

Let me take you back to 18-year-old me, young, clueless, and about to be told that gluten and I were breaking up. Permanently. No trial separation, no “it’s not you, it’s me,” just a hard stop. The first coeliac in the family, the first autoimmune diagnosis, and absolutely the first to discover that gluten-free bread in the 2000s could double as a building material.

Honestly, if you didn’t chip a tooth on those dry hot cross buns, did you even live through the era?

So there I was, surviving on rice cakes and cheese for far longer than any respectable person should admit. I was basically a walking, talking snack plate. But life doesn’t pause for dietary drama, so as I began navigating this new Coeliac friendly life I trained to be a nurse, because if you’re going to have a chronic condition, you might as well get the qualifications to understand why your bread hates you.

Then after graduating, came my first child, and with them, a whole new chapter. Becoming a first‑time parent hit me like a beautifully chaotic whirlwind, one minute I was pregnant and glowing (or sweating… hard to tell), and the next I was deep in the trenches of breastfeeding marathons, sleepless nights, and iron levels so low I practically shrivelled away. No one warns you that parenting is basically a full‑time job mixed with a part‑time night shift mixed with a crash course in “How to Function on Crumbs of Sleep.” But somehow, between the feeds, the fog, and the endless Googling of “is this normal,” I found my footing. Slowly. Messily. With a baby on one hip and a cold cup of tea somewhere in the house, probably.

In 2015 a year after the oldest was born, I decided to get back into training again at the very same moment as starting a complete house renovation, this time as a health visitor, because apparently I collect qualifications the way other people collect fridge magnets. Then came baby number two in 2017, and life was full, chaotic, and gluten-free in all the wrong ways.

And then, the plot twist I never wanted, my eldest was diagnosed with coeliac disease at age five.

Heartbreaking doesn’t even begin to cover it. Watching your child navigate the world with the same label you’ve carried for years… it hits different. The birthday parties where he has to ask if the food is safe. The holidays that require military-level planning. The moments where he has to take risks no child should have to take just to feel included. The constant questioning, the missing out, the invisible weight of it all. But here’s the part that makes me want to shout from the rooftops (preferably while holding a gluten-free cookie that doesn’t crumble into dust):

This kid is phenomenal.

He has handled every challenge with a strength and resilience that leaves me in awe. And somewhere between reading labels, dodging crumbs, and navigating the minefield that is eating outside the home, he found his superpower, the swimming pool. This year, at just 11 years old, he smashed his way to a regional time in the 50m breaststroke. While other kids were carb-loading on pasta, he was out there proving that coeliac disease doesn’t get to write his story. He does. And let me tell you, he’s writing a good one.

And of course, a massive shout‑out to my youngest son and my husband, the unsung heroes of our gluten‑free circus. They’re the ones quietly scanning labels, double‑checking ingredients, and making sure every meal, snack, and spontaneous treat is safe without ever making a fuss. They’re the “Is this one okay?” duo, the “Let me check first” team, always doing their best to make sure we feel included, seen, and supported. Their awareness, their care, and their willingness to learn the minefield of coeliac life means more than they’ll ever realise. They keep us safe, they keep us laughing, and they remind me every day that family isn’t just who you love,

it’s who shows up, checks the labels, and makes sure you never have to navigate it all alone.

And then came the why behind this business, the spark that lit the oven. After nearly 20 years in the public sector, pouring myself into everyone else’s wellbeing, I wanted to build something bold, beautiful, and entirely mine. Something my family could be proud of. Something everyone could enjoy, no matter their dietary needs. 2025 became the year of beginnings: launching a business from scratch, volunteering my heart out at my children’s swimming club, finishing my master’s in public health, and juggling work and parenting like a slightly unhinged circus act. It was exhausting, exhilarating, and absolutely worth it. Because out of all that chaos came Basic Batch Cookies, a place where joy rises, flavour wins, and every bake has a story behind it.

So here’s to the coeliacs: the crumb-dodgers, the label-readers, the quiet warriors. Here’s to the parents who pack entire suitcases of safe snacks for a weekend away. Here’s to the kids who ask “Is it gluten-free?” before they even ask what it is. And here’s to my boy, who shows me every day that resilience can be fierce, gluten-free, and fast in the water.

Life may have handed us dry bread, but look at us now, rising anyway.