I had been on edge, anticipating this moment since our son, Liam, was diagnosed with a peanut allergy at just six months old. Now at three years old, I still held my breath until… I nearly harmed my child.
It was a Monday evening after work, and I found myself browsing the gluten-free cookie aisle at Whole Foods. My partner and I were preparing for a trip that Friday, with my mom coming to look after the kids. I felt utterly exhausted. As I picked up a box of vanilla gluten-free cookies, I examined the ingredients. The front of the package boasted “gluten-free!” and “soy-free!” from a brand that seemed conscientious about allergens. Inside was a cream filling, something Liam had never tried before, and I thought it would be a delightful treat from his grandmother. As I turned to leave, I spotted the same cookies in chocolate. Without checking the ingredients, I tossed the second box into the cart.
Fast forward two days to 8 p.m. Liam was excited to see the cookies in the pantry and asked for one. I agreed, and since they came in pairs, he wanted both. Emily, our two-year-old, took a tiny bite and rejected hers, so Liam eagerly snatched up the extra. I quickly took Emily to bed, unaware of the impending disaster when Liam told his father, “This cream is spicy.”
Forty minutes later, Liam was watching cartoons in our bed when he came to the top of the stairs, saying he felt itchy. I looked at him and felt a wave of panic. The back of his knee was covered in hives, resembling a scene from a horror film. I shouted to my partner, “Think! What did we just give him?” and then I remembered the cookies.
I dashed to the pantry, grabbed the box, and scanned the ingredients. There it was—hazelnuts, the tenth ingredient. I was horrified to realize I hadn’t even read the label. We quickly administered double doses of Benadryl and applied Benadryl cream to his hives. He must have touched the cookies and then rubbed his knee. We rushed him to the shower to wash away any remnants. Holding him tightly in a towel, I apologized repeatedly, telling him it was a mistake.
My heart shattered when he said, “Mommy, I think I’m going to be OK with that cookie.” His eyes were bloodshot, so I put antihistamine drops in them. I asked if he could breathe, and he nodded. I instructed him to take a deep breath, and he complied. My dinner awaited me downstairs, so Andy stayed with Liam while I went to eat.
Suddenly, I heard him cough from upstairs. The hairs on my neck stood up as the cough escalated. “ANDY!” I yelled. “He’s coughing!”
“I know! I’m right here with him,” he replied.
I sprinted upstairs and flipped on the lights. Liam’s eyes were swelling, and he continued to cough. “We need to call 911,” I said urgently. “Let’s find an EpiPen and call for help.”
Backstory: We had received an EpiPen prescription for Liam in 2011 after an allergist’s appointment, but the doctor hadn’t issued it at the time, insisting we needed a treatment plan for our child. After much persistence and frustration, we finally secured the prescription.
Liam was wrapped in a towel as Andy carried him downstairs. I located the EpiPen and grabbed Andy’s phone. “Let’s put him in the car,” I suggested.
“No time for that,” he replied. I didn’t even know the route to the hospital since we had only moved there two months prior. I dialed 911.
“911, what’s your emergency?”
My voice trembled as the reality of the situation sunk in. “I need guidance on whether to use an EpiPen on my child,” I explained. The operator asked for our address, phone number, and Liam’s age. “YES, I NEED AN AMBULANCE, BUT DO I NEED TO USE THIS EPINEPHRINE ON MY CHILD?” I pleaded.
“Ma’am, I can’t decide that for you. You need to calm down and do what your doctor would suggest,” she replied.
Liam was now coughing so violently that he seemed close to vomiting. “She would want me to use the EpiPen,” I said.
“Then you need to do that.”
As I prepared to use the EpiPen, three firefighters rushed into our living room, followed by two paramedics, one of whom was notably compassionate. She held my hands and said, “You must use the EpiPen. This is crucial for your child’s safety.”
I felt overwhelmed, surrounded by nine professionals in our small living room. Liam was gagging, and I reread the EpiPen instructions. One firefighter offered to help hold Liam still while I attempted the injection. “One, two, three,” I said and pressed it against his thigh. Nothing happened. I tried again. Still nothing.
Helpless, I looked to the paramedic for assistance. She took the EpiPen, prepared it correctly, and handed it back to another paramedic. “Just press it hard against his thigh, and it will work.”
With my heart racing, I executed the injection. Liam yelped in pain. I counted the seconds until I could remove it, feeling crushed by the moment. “I’m so sorry, Liam,” I murmured.
“Mommy, I don’t want another one of those!” he cried.
Andy entered Liam’s view, and he leapt into his father’s arms. The paramedics inquired about which hospital to take him to, checking his breathing and reassuring me that the coughing was easing.
As they prepared to take Liam away, they asked if he liked teddy bears. He nodded, and they gave him one as they secured him in the ambulance. I stood outside, crying as they drove off. What if this had happened while my mother was watching him? What if he had fallen asleep without anyone noticing?
That night, Andy texted me to say they would remain at the hospital until morning. I finally fell asleep but woke at 4 a.m., reliving the terrifying events.
The next morning, I picked them up from the hospital. Andy told me that Liam had asked for the cookies while they were in the hospital room. As we got home, Liam told me he wanted to go to the spiral slide. “Sure, buddy, anything you want. Your dad can take you.”
He then gave me a stern look and said, “Mommy, you hurt me with that EpiPen.” My heart sank; I couldn’t believe he now understood what an EpiPen was.
Later, after a morning spent trying to process everything, I connected with other moms on a forum dedicated to food allergies. They recommended resources like Kids With Food Allergies and highlighted the importance of understanding the aftereffects of an EpiPen. I realized that reactions could recur once the medication wore off.
I reached out to Andy, and we informed Liam’s school of the situation, ensuring they were vigilant with him. Just as I thought we were out of the woods, I received a call from the school saying Liam was itching again.
In the whirlwind of parenting, moments of panic can strike when least expected. It’s crucial to remain vigilant and educated about food allergies, as one simple mistake can lead to a near catastrophe.