Today, I made my son a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch.
No big deal, right? It’s the most ordinary thing in the entire world. Except that if you had tried to give him a peanut butter sandwich a week ago, I would have come at you like--what are those guys on the football team called who run really fast and tackle you?--like one of those dive-tackle guys. Because for the past two and a half years, he was allergic to even a tiny amount of peanuts and we had to avoid them completely.
As anyone who's ever grocery shopped with me can attest, I am quite experienced at reading nutrition and ingredient labels. But before Noah (and then Sarah) had a food allergy diagnosis, I had no idea that those “contains nuts” or “made in a facility with…” labels would ever be such a big deal for our family.
We first noticed an issue with Noah when he was about 18 months old. Easter week was his first time having more than a little bit of chocolate, and he broke out in huge welt-like hives all over his legs and bottom after eating some Easter candy and a chocolate chip M&M cookie from Subway. The Ask-A-Nurse hotline thought it was diaper rash and suggested putting cream on it (hence why phone consults and Dr. Google are not always a great treatment plan). We figured he was allergic to chocolate and would mention it at his next checkup. I’d been holding off on giving him peanut butter until he was two, so it never crossed my mind that the reaction to chocolate would have anything to do with that. So we cut out chocolate and had no more problems for the next few months.
Right before his second birthday, we were out to lunch in Albion and his kids meal came with a cookie. I checked it out--no chocolate, but it smelled like peanut butter. Mike and I looked at each other and shrugged, thinking, “He’s almost two, we’re in town (as opposed to at home, 20 minutes from the hospital)...might as well give it a shot!” He took one bite of the cookie and refused the rest, which should have been a red flag with our sugar-loving toddler. We packed up and left the restaurant and stopped in at church to change his diaper before heading home. When I laid him down to change him, his whole chest and belly were covered in a rash of red bumps, though not the hives like he’d had before with the chocolate.
Here’s where we screwed up. As it turned out, what he was reacting to in the chocolate months before was trace amounts of peanuts, since M&Ms and many other kinds of chocolate candy are made on the same factory lines as products with peanuts. Generally speaking, each exposure to an allergen can cause increasingly serious reactions. Knowing what I now know about allergic reactions, we should have taken him to the ER or at the very least, the family doctor, right away. But his two year checkup was scheduled for a couple days later, so we thought we’d just wait and ask about it then. Thankfully, he did not have any other severe symptoms with his reaction. But when we described the situation to his primary doctor (who could still see the rash days later), she referred us to the allergist right away, and that’s when we confirmed a peanut allergy. At least with Sarah, we knew what to watch for. When she developed a similar rash after eating bakery bread at 7 months old, we were not too surprised to find out she was allergic to eggs and dairy products, which were not listed ingredients, but probably in the bread through cross contact in the bakery.
I have learned so much about food allergies in the past couple years, from helpful websites like FARE and following lots of allergy mom blogs, but the thing that made the severity of it sink in for me was the story of 13-year-old Natalie Giorgi, who died after accidentally biting into a Rice Krispie treat topped with peanut butter at a family camp in California. Her parents (including her dad, who is a doctor) did everything right: they were with her, she told them right away, and they gave her Benadryl, since her reaction did not seem severe right away. She had no history of anaphylaxis and as soon as she showed signs, they called 911 and administered 3 doses of epinephrine, but it wasn’t enough to save her life.
It blows my mind that as parents, we can do everything by the book, try to follow every guideline, and still...there are no guarantees. You can eat organic foods during pregnancy, put your babies to sleep on their backs, breastfeed for a year (or more!), limit screen time, use your carseat correctly...and yet, your babies are never really as safe as you want them to be. I sometimes affectionately joke that Noah is such a mama’s boy that he would crawl back into the womb, given the chance, but I think the truth of it is, that’s about the last time I felt like he was safe from this terrifying world. With Sarah and the difficult pregnancy I had with her, my worries began even sooner.
And yet...we send them out there. Our precious babies (even the big grown-up-sized ones). Into the terrifying world. Every day. Into cars that could careen into the ditch. Into schools that could have rampaging gunmen. Into cafeterias full of poisonous peanut butter sandwiches. Why do we do that? WHAT KIND OF PARENTS ARE WE, ANYWAY?!?!
The very best kind. Because being a parent means wearing your heart outside your body for the rest of your life. It means knowing that the places that could kill them are also places that give them life.
So we send them into cars--safely buckled--and give thanks that they will visit new places and experiences beyond our home. We send them into schools--with a hug and a prayer--and give thanks for teachers who nurture their minds and hearts. We send them into cafeterias--with a (mostly) healthy lunch--and give thanks for the friendships and laughter and maybe even the peanut-free table for the allergy kids that they’ll find there.
Because that’s where the miracles happen. The ordinary, everyday miracles of life: adventure; discovery; relationships. And the extraordinary miracles--like getting the all-clear from the allergist that Noah had outgrown his allergy--those call for a special celebration!
As I made that sandwich this afternoon, I breathed a prayer of thanks that such a very ordinary thing as a PBJ had become an extraordinary reminder of the faith and trust it takes to raise a child. Although I’m incredibly grateful that Noah has outgrown his allergy, I’m also glad I’ve learned so much about a condition that affects a rapidly increasing number of kids--including both of my own. Someday, our experience and knowledge could save a child’s life. Whether it’s my kid or someone else’s makes no difference--we belong to each other, as Glennon always reminds us.
In the midst of all my deep thoughts about peanut butter, I’ll tell you one last important thing I learned today...
It turns out the kid doesn’t like jelly. Go figure.
Do you want to learn more about how to keep kids with food allergies safe and recognize the signs of a life-threatening allergic reaction? Good, you should! Visit the FARE website and do it today!
