Starting Preschool with Anaphylaxis
(disclaimer: long post ahead)
I sent Maya’s preschool application to BYU’s Child and
Family Studies Lab in early March. The deadline was April. I was sure there was
no chance of getting in. People apply and prepare for this FAR in advance, and faculty
and staff with children are the first priority before students. But it felt
good to have an option out there in the universe, an option for her to do what
she begs me to do every day. Plus, they even stated on their website something
about food allergies and accommodating those students. Hooray! A school that is
aware! Honestly I trust BYU far more than some other random preschool at
someone’s house, or old building.
Well, summer came and it was time to move. I had received a
letter from BYU saying that Maya was #3 on the waiting list, but still didn’t
expect to be going since it was already August and the preschool started at the
beginning of September. It was the day before we were supposed to move to Provo
and I was standing in my kitchen cleaning out the fridge and scrubbing those
little rubber seals along the edges when my phone rang. It was an 801-422
number, which I knew was BYU. Completely shocked, I listened to the probably
18/19-year old secretary tell me that there was a spot for Maya in Miss Dorie’s
afternoon class. I didn’t even hesitate, I said yes immediately without even
discussing it with Brett. We still had
time to reject or change our minds. But a feeling came over me that this was
supposed to happen. Our first venture putting Maya out into the world, outside
of our protective bubble and constant care seemed to be the perfect opportunity
to give her and us confidence. It felt too right to happen just by chance or by
coincidence.
Fast forward to our second week in Provo, the week of preschool
orientation and parent meetings. I had already discussed my concerns about the
dreaded snack time with the preschool director and barely held it together on
the phone. I hung up feeling heavy with doubt. When I saw the snack calendar
full of yogurts, cheese, ranch dip, and other horrifying drippy, dairy foods
that would probably inhibit Maya from attending preschool, turmoil filled my
heart and head. I was sure that Maya would never be able to attend any type of
school and turmoil turned to rage. The two thoughts constantly contradicting my
mind were: 1. “I can’t protect her forever;
I have to give this a try. They are willing to help and become educated and she
will flourish and love it so much and this will be a perfect learning
opportunity for how to survive in the public education system,” and 2. “Why
would I even be considering sending her to an environment where her life is in
danger? Not only that, but why would I actually PAY them to serve
life-threatening food to kids all around her?” I had a major dilemma, and with
Brett starting the MBA, I felt miserably alone. These two thoughts would not leave
me. One day I felt so positive, and the next would be completely negative. I
needed clarity. I needed prayers answered, and they were; on the days of
preschool orientation and the parent meeting.
When we walked into the classroom for the orientation, it
was like a magical kingdom. Maya was astonished by everything and was
immediately put to work on a scavenger hunt looking for the class pet
tarantula, the kid-sized potties, and a lot of awesome discoveries. Brett was
thankfully with me to help chase Griffin and support me as my anxiety
sky-rocketed through the rough and all of my worst fears were on the brink of
surfacing. I talked to the student teacher and the head teacher about ALL of my
concerns (I wrote them down for backup because I knew I’d be flustered.) Hearing
their confidence in creating a safe environment for Maya gave me a glimmer of
hope. Brett was all for it, and I was about halfway there, especially after
seeing Maya. I always knew she would flourish in a school-setting and devour
every little routine, schedule, lesson and song. Actually seeing her there made
it real for me. It was a good, positive day overall, and I was feeling better,
yet the turmoil and fear lingered in the back of my mind. Was this the right
choice?
The next evening was the parent meeting. Brett came home
from school to watch the kids and I went solo. The first half was with the
director of the preschool mentioned earlier. It was just pick-up & drop-off
rules, parking procedures, routine, curriculum, more rules, etc. After we met
with her, we were invited to visit the classroom again where we would have a
short info session with the head teacher, Miss Dorie. Still feeling uneasy, I sat down and listened
to her talk about her classroom, what is expected, her favorite song, the focus
and boo-boo cream, and other charming little procedures that made me smile and
feel that Maya belonged here, with Miss Dorie and Fuzz, the pet tarantula. But
it wasn’t until I heard Miss Dorie specifically mention Maya’s allergies and
the severity of the situation in front of all the other parents that I knew I
was in love. This was an experienced teacher who was determined to make her
classroom safe and available for Maya and who did not belittle or undermine the
seriousness of the situation. She knew I was a nervous, paranoid mom, who
almost watched her little girl die from drinking milk, and she was so
understanding and willing to learn and change anything to help us feel
comfortable. It was this night that I knew my prayers were answered. I knew the
phone call I received in August informing of an opening for Maya in this specific
class was no coincidence.
Before school started, Miss Dorie had me come in on a Friday
afternoon to do a “Safe-at-School” and Epi-pen training for the student and
practicum teachers. I wanted them to know how serious this was and so I told
them how Maya will react and what we have seen happen to her when she comes in
contact with or eats anything with milk. It is extremely difficult for me to
discuss the happenings of that fuzzy day when I first used the Epi-pen without
choking up, and I of course did. I felt so silly, but I think it clarified the
severity and transferred my paranoia onto them, which is exactly what I wanted.
Almost 3 months later, and Maya has had ZERO reactions or
issues at school. I highlight what she CANNOT have on the snack calendar, they Lysol
tables/chairs before and after snack time, kids use wipes after they eat on
hands and faces, there are specific protocols in place in case of an emergency,
I store safe snacks at the school that Maya can choose from on the “yucky days”
and we celebrate the days we can eat the same snacks as everyone else. For
example, one practicum student decided to substitute butter for coconut oil
while making rice krispie treats with the children. Maya was so happy and I
will forever be grateful for that extra little effort. I also appreciated Miss
Dorie using the first week of school to teach about germs and letting Maya and another
boy talk about their food allergies in front of the whole class. What a special
and crucial opportunity.
I feel so blessed that we have the BYU preschool in our
lives. Maya adores everything about it. I will do everything I can to keep her
there next year as well for kindergarten. If not, I am seriously considering
home-school. Starting preschool with
anaphylaxis started out as horrifying and has become a tremendous blessing. It
gives me hope for the future when she is even further outside of our nest.
For all who are reading this; think twice before you roll your eyes as you listen to someone go on and on about their kid's food allergies. It could be a lot more severe than you realize. We are mostly trying to spread awareness, concern and education. It is a growing epidemic. Ask questions, listen and don't judge. A little bit of empathy goes a long way.
For all who are reading this; think twice before you roll your eyes as you listen to someone go on and on about their kid's food allergies. It could be a lot more severe than you realize. We are mostly trying to spread awareness, concern and education. It is a growing epidemic. Ask questions, listen and don't judge. A little bit of empathy goes a long way.