Peanuts and Pointing Fingers

One week ago, I walked into Target and walked out with 2 Epi-pens. (Also: 2 gallons of milk, 3 pairs of children's sunglasses, 1 bunch of bananas, 2 jars of applesauce, 1 bag of marshmallows... and so on. But back to the Epi-pens...)

I never planned on needing Epi-pens. Who does, right? 

I do read Nutrition Facts, and I slide my eyes down a list of Ingredients. I even check out the allergen statements now and then, if I'm preparing something for a friend who has a food allergy. I just didn't expect to be checking for peanuts, or to register a meaningful difference between "processed in a facility with" vs. "processed on equipment that". I didn't picture myself as a mom of a kid with a peanut allergy. 

That is, until about three weeks ago and a quick-forming red rash around my one-year-old's mouth. The bar I'd made (ironically for a friend whose kids can't eat gluten) only had three simple ingredients: Cheerios, honey, and peanut butter. 

Two weeks, one blood test, and one scratch test later... And now I know.

I know that my third child can have a peanut allergy even if my first two have no allergies at all.

I know how to recognize the signs of anaphylaxis.

I know that I would need to hold the Epi-pen in my 1-year-old's baby leg for ten. whole. seconds. that's. about. this. long. including. screaming. yikes.

I know that there are certain restaurants we should avoid, and that "going out for ice cream" won't be quite as straightforward.

And I know that I did nothing differently to cause this.

I've done this baby thing before with allergy-free results!

I let Isaac play in the dirt.

I didn't explicitly feed him peanut butter before age 1, but I also didn't shield him from all things peanuty. He'd certainly been "exposed."

He does not live in an anti-bacterial bubble. Definitely not.

It just happened. He ate peanuts. He reacted. The allergist did a test and confirmed it. End of chapter. Beginning of new one. This isn't life-changing, but it is lifestyle-changing. 

For the most part, other people's reactions have ranged from "how did you find out?" to "at least it's only one allergen" to "oh no! I'm sorry!" to (my personal favorite) "did you do this, or not do that, or did you do this, and is that why he has it?"

I want to assume that the last segment of question askers mean well. Maybe they want to know how to avoid doing whatever I did so that their kid can eat PB&J's and DQ Blizzards (sorry Isaac). Maybe they've read up on it and feel somewhat educated, and therefore immune. I get it. To an extent, so did I.  

But guys, that last reaction, no matter how well it is meant, is basically finger-pointing. Like the poor so-called "refrigerator mothers" of the 1950s after their kids were diagnosed with autism, or, later, the false study that assigned the blame to vaccinations. Like giving no end of advice to parents whose babies truly don't sleep well, as if they haven't tried everything in the book, as if they just don't want sleep badly enough! Like looking askew at parents with a severely picky eater, as if they always only planned for their kid to eat just beige foods. 

There are genes, and environment, and temperament, and goodness-of-fit, and the best of intentions. 

Someday, when the research is clearcut, then we can all look back with our 20/20 hindsight vision and say: 

Isaac got a peanut allergy because of his affinity for wearing mismatched shoes. 

Until then, I'll have my Epi-pens, and my 3-year-old's monochromatic rainbow of foods, and my ever-expanding supply of empathy for moms and the one-of-a-kind kids they are raising.