What ARFID Actually Looks Like in an Autistic Child (From a Mom Living It)

Before I became a mom, I had a vision of the kind of mom I would be. Think “Pinterest mom.”

I imagined the aesthetic nursery. Beautifully organized drawers that could be on the cover of a magazine. Cute, thoughtfully prepared food plates that my child would eat without hesitation.

If I could go back in time, I would tell that version of me not to hold so tightly to those expectations. Because it wasn’t going to look like that. Not even close.

Needless to say, we did not have the perfect nursery or magazine-worthy drawers. Making my own baby food lasted about one week. And the cute food plates? Total bust.

I thought feeding would be simple. You put food in front of your curious child, and they eat it. They don’t know any better, right?

I was wrong. It was not that easy.

My husband and I aren’t adventurous eaters ourselves. Our diet is simple, so it’s not like we were introducing anything unusual. When J started solids, I wanted him to try everything appropriate for his age. I even tried Baby-Led Weaning.

Yeah… that didn’t work for us.

At the time, I was okay with the amount of food he was eating. Of course, I wanted him to have more variety and eat “better” than we did, but things felt manageable.

Until he turned two.

That’s when the pickiness started.

He began refusing foods he had eaten before without issue. I remember one moment so clearly. I was frustrated and scared, and I tried to force him to eat something. I don’t even remember what it was. Within seconds, we were both crying on the kitchen floor.

I knew immediately it wasn’t the right move. But I didn’t know any better. We were both learning.

As time went on, more foods disappeared from his diet. I rotated what I could, but his safe foods kept shrinking. I felt defeated.

He would eat mini toaster waffles with peanut butter. I bought box after box without hesitation. He needed to eat.

He loved Honeycrisp apples. I bought two bags every week.

Then eventually, it felt like all he ate were snacks. Pringles. Pretzels. Crackers. Breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

I used to joke that I needed to buy Pringles by the pallet. I was only half joking.

His doctors reassured me he would be okay. Just keep offering food.

I started realizing kids can somehow survive on crackers, air, and juice. It’s honestly amazing.

Eventually, we were referred to feeding therapy.

We worked with both a speech therapist and an occupational therapist for eight weeks. The first 30 minutes were spent helping him regulate his body and burn energy. The last 30 minutes were what they called a “food party.”

Everything was play-based. Low pressure. Gentle.

Disclaimer: this is not a quick fix.

Disclaimer #2: it is very expensive.

After two rounds, we had spent nearly $3,000.

And despite all of that, his list of safe foods didn’t really grow.

His diet became extremely specific. Snacks. Apple juice mixed with water. Chicken nuggets and fries from one specific place. Pasta with red sauce and milk — but only at grandma and grandpa’s house.

He needed specific bowls. Specific plates. Specific forks.

Everything had rules.

Then in November 2025, we met with a pediatric psychologist who specialized in feeding.

At the end of that first appointment, J was diagnosed with ARFID.

Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder.

Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder is a serious eating disorder characterized by extreme avoidance or restriction of food based on sensory sensitivities (texture, taste), lack of interest in eating, or fear of averse consequences (choking, vomiting).

It explained everything.

His preference for crunchy, neutral-colored foods. His rigidity. His hesitation. His fear and avoidance.

As difficult as it was to hear, it also brought relief. We finally understood why feeding had been such a struggle.

Now, one of our goals is simply increasing flexibility. Something as small as using a different colored bowl.

And somehow, he continues to surprise us.

Since turning five, he has tried six new foods. Some were foods he used to eat but hadn’t touched in over a year. I still count those as victories.

We know foods may disappear again. Food jags happen.

A food jag is when a child eats only one specific food or a very limited group of foods repeatedly. It’s common, but in kids with ARFID, it can be more intense and long-lasting.

But for now, we keep going.

Because at the end of the day, as long as my children are happy, healthy, and fed… nothing else really matters.