Hello, Anaphylaxis. How Unpleasant to Meet You.

I was just about to post an update on Jacob’s food allergies, after our visit to the allergist two weeks ago. Instead, here’s the short version: At that visit, we did another skin test (the first was almost exactly a year ago), which confirmed that Jacob is not allergic to wheat, but is allergic to dairy, eggs (mostly whites, but yolks too), peanuts, hazelnuts (and thus likely birch trees) but not walnuts (and perhaps other tree nuts we didn’t test for as well), and codfish. Yes, it is that complicated. But it gets better. Or worse, depending on how you look at it.

 

I woke up Sunday morning when John told me Jacob was not responding to Benadryl for his hives and was also coughing to the point that he was having some difficulty breathing. It had only been five or ten minutes, but by fifteen, we knew we needed to make some calls: pediatrician, allergist, and 9-1-1.

 

What followed was a slew of firsts: Jacob’s first epinephrine injection, Jacob’s first ambulance ride, and our first four hours spent observing our little man in a hospital. He is fine, it seems, but we really don’t know what caused the reaction.

 

It is a strange thing, being the parent in an emergency situation. We didn’t realize how wound up we’d become until things settled down and all three of us wanted to crash. (It was a comfortable space, until you wanted to sleep!) Part of me wanted to freak out at the start, but a stronger part stayed calm, knowing that we needed to communicate information, snuggle Jacob, and maintain the coolness the medical folks had. If they weren’t freaking out, maybe we didn’t need to freak out. At one point, I realized I might have watched too much ER back in the day. Good show, but a little unrealistic.

 
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What a morning. There is nothing like seeing your baby cough like that. Nothing like seeing his skin bubbly and red all over. There’s also nothing like seeing him come back to himself, singing, bouncing, housing a container of Froot Loops.

 

A year ago we’d just learned that Jacob had food allergies. We’ve learned a lot about how to deal with them in a variety of situations. Again we see we have more to learn, and honestly, I’m not sure where to start.

 

I do know that I’m grateful we have one of the best allergists in the city, a good hospital nearby, and the insurance and resources not to have to worry about the costs of treating and better understanding our little man’s system. I am grateful for all those who have done research on food allergies and dedicate their lives to these fickle and sometimes unpredictable conditions. I am grateful that Jacob stays with me during the day, and I don’t need to worry yet about how to leave him in a setting with other young children. I am grateful our first experience with anaphylaxis happened when both John and I were home and had no big plans for the day.

 

In my experience, gratitude is always a good place to start.

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What Day Is It Again?

Pregnancy is a beautiful thing.

 

It is also, in my case, a tired, cranky, hungry, anxious, sleep-deprived, reminiscent-of-teenage-angsty thing.

 

I am blessed not to endure great physical trials in my pregnancies. My body responds as expected, and usually on the milder side of what’s possible. My emotions, on the other hand, can swell like a tsunami, and most of the time I’m not even sure why.

 

This week I’ve been struggling. Was it because I was overtired? Was it because I put too much on my plate, as I have a history of doing? Was it because I hadn’t had dinner with John all week, for various reasons (all of which I knew about ahead of time)? Was it because I was starting to doubt whether I really wanted to learn the gender of our baby when I go for an ultrasound this week? Was it because—

 

Wait a minute. Go back one. Ultrasound. Ah, ultrasound. It’s all becoming clear now.

 
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Ultrasounds, and doctor’s appointments in general, kind of terrify me since losing Ethan. For the week before each of my previous appointments in this pregnancy, I was a mess. Not sleeping well. Not eating well. Not really wanting to do much but get it over with, but being petrified of what I’d learn at the same time. I thought I was handling things better now that this Little One has come further along than he did. Better maybe, but still not great all the time.

 

So of course this week seems longer than usual. Of course all those little things that aren’t real issues in themselves seem astronomically more trying these days. Of course I can’t sleep well. And of course I’d rather eat greasy pizza than a bowl of fruit.

 

But of course God has a plan to help me persevere. He’s about thirty pounds, and he goes by “Jacob.”

 

http://youtu.be/sWWI7eGHjsU

 

P.S. No, I’m still not sure whether we’ll learn the gender or not. We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, i.e. after I’m satisfied with hearing the heartbeat.

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Bookworm Boy

As much as Jacob loves to wear a cape, I think his true superpower is his love of books. I recognize that sounds like the tagline to a terribly boring afterschool special. When you see it in action, it’s the truth, and pretty darn cute.

 

Last week Jacob wandered around the board book section of our local library for the first time. He loved the little chairs and tables and, of course, the books! I intended for our trip to be a quick stop en route to the park, but when I asked him if he wanted to go, I got a firm, “no” in reply. He didn’t even want me to read to him much. He was so happy taking books from the shelf, bringing them to his seat, reading them, putting them back (more or less), and repeating the process.

 

 

I shouldn’t be surprised. We spend a lot of time reading every day (which is a relief when I’m tired/cranky/craving cheese products in this pregnancy), and at this point it is more often his idea than mine. John and I combat bad behavior by telling him he has a choice to continue how he’s acting and lose something or change his attitude and keep what he has. The suggestion of no stories before bedtime has a more significant effect than taking away his dinner (if, say, the bad behavior was throwing food)—and he’s a good eater.

 

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While I’m starting to wonder if we’re raising a tiny geek (for which I would take most of the unfortunate credit), I’m delighted to see that our little boy is embracing something that was so important to me as a little girl, and remains that way today.

 

 

 

I knew being pregnant while working in a publishing house meant good things for his literacy!

 

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