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“that kid”

November 2, 2018 by anne Leave a Comment

No one wants their kid to be “that kid” but most kids are “that kid”.

The super smart kid
The rambunctious kid
The shy kid
The athletic kid
The allergy kid

The judgment starts with the parents. However, pointing fingers at where it starts doesn’t help with where it ends, your kid feeling a little less than “normal” and that is what I mean when I didn’t want my kid to be that kid.

The Great Pumpkin will be “that kid” though. The one that has to ask about snacks. The one that has to have her mom meet with the school about the emergency plan in case she eats a little peanut. The one that was born on Halloween and won’t know the joys of half the candy she collects. The kid that will grow up watching baseball, but may not see as many live ball games because ballparks are a hotbed of peanuts and peanut oils.

I am a worrier by nature. My anxiety about what may or may not happen, what may or may not hurt her has felt palpable to me every day. Food allergies were high on the list of panic-inducing worries. Some can be so severe and life-threatening and the thought of that panic quite nearly sent me into a panic. In the same way, I deal with all of my anxieties, I had it all planned out and knew exactly how I would handle all of it. This method allows me to go forward with less fear, but few things have ever gone according to my grand plan.

How we learned about peanut allergy

The pediatrician said to try the major allergens sooner rather than later. I did most of them quickly, but peanut and nuts scared me the most. So I waited. I put a little on her lip a few weeks before her 9-month appointment and didn’t notice anything. Not convinced she had eaten enough to produce a reaction, I decided to smear a little on a teething cracker right before we drove to her 9-month appointment, a Thursday. I was going to do it at the office but thought that would be life threating if a peanut allergy kid was at the doctor’s office. My kid isn’t the tidiest eater yet! We got to the office and I thought I saw a reaction. I have never had a hive so I wasn’t sure. By the time we get in the exam room it had gone down a bit and the doctor felt pretty sure it wasn’t a peanut reaction. Here is the thing I didn’t know about peanut allergies, every exposure to peanuts will likely cause a worse reaction than the one before. Exposure count is a two, but no need for concern it seems. Excited that someday she would get to eat pb&j, have s’mores with peanut butter cups, eat Reese’s Pieces (my favorite candy) the following Tuesday, with joyful anticipation, I lather up a teething cracker with peanut butter. She was getting such a kick out of it and I was excited she liked it. And in seconds, I noticed the red spots around her mouth!

It was bath day so we were quickly off from high chair to the tub. I thought maybe it was a contact reaction with the peanut oils. Before I can even get her undressed I start to notice some red spots on her arms. We get in the tub and she is her normal happy self. I am a panicked mess because hives are appearing on her tiny body before my eyes. I call the doctor office, cause they seemed unconcerned on Thursday so why not. The receptionist is asking my questions. I am trying to answer. She asks if the hives are warm to the touch. It takes all I have to not respond with “how the eff am I supposed to know, she just got out of the tub!” I pull The Great Pumpkin out of the tub to try and see if they are warm to the touch and she goes for the phone. Puts it on mute. Receptionist hangs up on me. I dial back, hang up and hit 9-1-1 for the first time in my life.

If you have ever had to call 911 you know just how long the wait to be connected can be. The wait for the ambulance is equally nerve-racking. I kind of feel lucky though that I was the parent dealing with the emergency. I can’t imagine getting the sobby phone call my husband received telling him I called 911 and was waiting for an ambulance. He says based on my texts the ambulance actually arrived quickly. Based on my memory it was too long and I was planning emergency options in my head while pacing the living room trying to figure out if she was breathing okay. It felt like an eternity. The sight of the paramedic attending to my daughter was surprisingly calming. We were lucky this one didn’t cause airway restriction, but we went to the hospital just in case. Peanut allergies are not to be messed with. The hospital was not fun, the IV was horrible, but our little girl is safe.

I was always concerned about allergies because I didn’t want her to miss out. I didn’t want her to have to speak up and say hey I can’t have that. I also selfishly didn’t want to worry about what she eats when I am not around. It is relatively easy now since we are the only ones that feed her. Relative, because I already constantly worry about new foods and at any meal not in our house. Did I ask the right questions? Did I read that label closely? Do the people serving the food truly understand the danger if something is cross contaminated? The new anxiety already creeping into my life.

Now I am trying to think of ways to keep her safe that don’t make her afraid of food. How to keep the anxiety mine and not pass it on to her while teaching her how to be safe. Trying now to read labels, even on the things I know I won’t feed her for years, just to get in the habit. It is in the back of my mind at every meal and every trip to the grocery store. Even as diligent as I have tried to become I missed a tiny cross contamination label and had to take her birthday cake away just as she was diving in for a bite.

I am committed to whatever will keep her safe. But I also want to find ways for her to not feel like “that kid.” I am guessing this will be my pursuit for a long time.

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As a home cook and gardener, a former grocery store manager, and an advocate for improving our food system I have thousands of hours of research and real-world experience on how to get good food on our plates. My new challenge and my main focus is how to encourage my daughter to love food & eating as much as we do.

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