The Day I Nearly Endangered My Child

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Since our son, Ethan, was diagnosed with a peanut allergy at just six months old, I had been anxiously anticipating a day that I hoped would never come. Now three years old, that dreaded day almost arrived when I inadvertently exposed him to a dangerous allergen.

It was a Monday evening after work, and I found myself in the gluten-free cookie aisle at Whole Foods. My husband and I were preparing for a trip that Friday, with my mom coming to care for the kids. Exhausted, I picked up a box of vanilla gluten-free cookies, reassured by the bold “gluten-free!” and “soy-free!” labels on the front. The cookies contained cream, a treat I thought would be special for Ethan to enjoy with his grandmother. On my way out, I noticed a chocolate version of the same cookies and tossed a second box into the cart—without reading the ingredients.

Fast forward to Wednesday evening at 8 p.m. My daughter was still awake, and Ethan spotted the cookie box in the pantry. He asked for one and, after a little negotiation, I agreed. Emily took a small bite and lost interest, leaving Ethan ecstatic to snatch up the leftover cookie. I took Emily to bed, blissfully unaware of the impending disaster when Ethan remarked to his dad, “This cream is spicy.”

Forty minutes later, while watching cartoons in our bed, Ethan called out that he felt itchy. When I rushed up the stairs, I nearly fainted at the sight of his leg covered in hives. In a panic, I urgently asked my husband what we had recently introduced to his diet, and then it hit me—the cookies.

I sprinted to the pantry, grabbed the box, and scanned the ingredients. To my horror, hazelnuts were listed as the tenth ingredient. I realized at that moment that I had failed to read the label. We quickly administered Benadryl and slathered the hives with Benadryl cream, washing him down in the shower to remove any remaining residue. I sat with him wrapped in a towel, apologizing profusely for my mistake.

Ethan looked up at me with his bloodshot eyes and said, “Mommy, I think I’m going to be OK with that cookie.” I asked him if he was breathing normally, and he reassured me he was. But soon, I noticed he began to cough, and my heart raced.

“ANDY!” I shouted. “He’s coughing!”

“I know!” came the response from the dark room. I flipped on the lights to see Ethan’s eyes swelling.

“We need to call 911,” I insisted. “Let’s find an EpiPen and call 911. Bring him downstairs.”

For context, we had received an EpiPen prescription for Ethan after a skin test at an allergist back in 2011. Despite his numerous food allergies, we had to fight to get the prescription, navigating a maze of policies and threats.

As we rushed to get Ethan ready, I dialed 911, my voice trembling with urgency. “I need to know if I have to use an EpiPen on my child,” I told the operator. Amidst her routine questions, I pleaded, “Yes, I need an ambulance, but do I need to use this EpiPen?”

The operator instructed me to remain calm and do what the doctor would advise. Ethan’s coughing grew worse, and I knew we had to act fast.

Firefighters arrived moments later. One of them listened to Ethan’s lungs and confirmed he was wheezing. “You’ve got to use the EpiPen,” he urged. A kind paramedic took my hands and assured me that I needed to administer the EpiPen myself, as it was crucial I learn to do this for the future.

With trembling hands, I followed the instructions but struggled to inject him correctly. Thankfully, a paramedic stepped in to guide me, and on my third attempt, I successfully administered the EpiPen. Ethan howled in pain as I cradled him in my arms, feeling like the worst mother in the world.

The paramedics packed Ethan up into the ambulance, and I stood at the back, watching through tears as they drove away. I couldn’t shake off the “what ifs” haunting my mind. What if this had happened while my mom was watching him? What if he had fallen asleep before the reaction set in?

Later that night, as I relived the traumatic event, I began to seek answers. I turned to the community of parents facing similar challenges and found valuable resources, including Kids With Food Allergies, which offered guidance on how to manage food allergies.

The next morning, after a long night filled with worry, I picked up Ethan and his dad from the hospital. As we drove home, Ethan innocently asked if he could have those cookies again. The weight of guilt crashed down on me, but I reassured him that we wouldn’t be having those cookies anymore.

Despite the scare, Ethan bounced back quickly and, later that day, insisted on going to school. I was hesitant but ultimately relieved that I didn’t have a say in the matter.

As I spent the morning processing the events, I learned from other parents about the risks of allergic reactions returning once the effects of medication wear off. This vital information prompted me to alert Ethan’s school about his condition and the new EpiPen design. I composed a detailed email to the director to ensure they were prepared.

In summary, this harrowing experience taught me the importance of vigilance and preparation when managing food allergies. The love and support from the allergy community was instrumental in helping me navigate this frightening ordeal, ensuring I was better prepared for whatever challenges lay ahead.