By Katie Jennings as told to Kaitlin Menza.
This summer, my husband and I took our six kids, ranging in age from 7 to 17, on a big trip to France. We were staying in a 16th-century stone house in the countryside when my 9-year-old began to cough.
He has asthma that reacts to environmental triggers, so at first, we thought the old house might have mold. But even with an air filter nearby, his emergency inhaler, and allergy medicine from a local pharmacy, his cough kept getting worse.
One night when my son couldn’t catch his breath, my husband drove him an hour away to the nearest emergency room. They told us to use his inhaler more as needed, just to get through the remaining days of the trip. Between coughing fits, he was fine and had no fever.
The night we got home to Texas, my son coughed up blood, so we went straight to the ER. The doctor there thought his sinuses were raw; perhaps it was just a nosebleed from all the coughing. That’s when I told her we weren't vaccinated, but that we were working on it.
Just months earlier, we’d begun our shots — but hadn’t yet made it to the DTaP and Tdap, which protect against pertussis, or whooping cough. That changed the doctor’s treatment plan immediately. She decided to run additional tests, which she likely wouldn't have done if my kids had been vaccinated or if I hadn't told her we were unvaccinated.
The hospital ran a culture for pertussis, which takes 24 to 48 hours to come back. While we waited, our whole unvaccinated family followed the medical protocol, which is to assume it is pertussis, go into quarantine, and take antibiotics.
Days later, we learned that my 9-year-old was positive for pertussis, and by then, my 7-year-old was coughing too. There’s not much to do from there: Once the virus damages the breathing tract, that damage creates the cough — and by the time they have whooping cough, even the antibiotics wouldn't help, said our pediatrician.
It was so sad. They were miserable, and my heart broke watching them struggle.
When we chose not to vaccinate our kids, we did so because we thought it was the best thing for them at the time. But the truth is that it hurt them. I hurt them. My kids coughed through the night, and I hated knowing I’d caused it.
My decision not to vaccinate my children was formed out of fear
Avoiding vaccines was very much part of my upbringing. My husband and I grew up in very conservative religious communities in Texas, and it informed all of our medical decision-making up until very recently: We were told by church leadership (and people in our community) not to trust doctors or science. My five siblings and I were never vaccinated. When we got married and considered having children, my husband and I were on the same page on the topic — we wouldn't vaccinate our family.
In my own anti-vaccine-skewed research, I learned that the risk of my kids getting mumps is very, very low. The risk of them getting polio is very, very low. Instead of fearing these diseases, I was concerned about the aluminum in vaccines building up in my children’s bodies, and that they might wind up with traces of aluminum in their kidneys.
I was also worried about other potential adverse reactions to the shots, like milestone regressions or behavior changes. I know now these types of claims are not based on scientific evidence and are untrue, but at the time, I fully believed they were.
In Texas, it was easy enough to get around vaccine requirements — we homeschooled for a while and then requested an exemption form from the Department of Health. Our pediatrician was also an alternative medicine provider and supported our desire to avoid any type of medication whenever possible.
I learned it’s okay to change my mind
What I didn't consider was real science or the historical context of vaccines — that the death rate of children was so high up until very recently, and that vaccines are the main reason children survive into adulthood these days.
I also didn't consider that I was essentially, unintentionally taking advantage of herd immunity, without realizing the impact that my kids could have on immunocompromised people.
In these last few years, I've found a really great therapist and, between her and a very supportive group of friends, I'm working on unpacking my upbringing and beliefs that have been with me my entire life.
I have been involved in my church since I was a child, and it has always been a huge part of my identity. I've been looking at the areas of my life that have been driven by fear and getting curious about them.
And then in the midst of this painful process of me working on myself, came the measles outbreak in Texas.
I was watching the news one night and thought, Oh my gosh, we haven’t vaccinated our kids. What am I doing? Within a few days of the story breaking, I turned to my husband and said, “I think we should vaccinate the kids.”
He shocked me by saying, “Sure! Sounds great!” He was on board immediately. I thought we were both passionate about being anti-vax, but apparently, it was more me, which I take responsibility for. This outbreak was too close to home and was a huge wake-up call for us.
Our same doctor has been very supportive in our decision to vaccinate, and is helping us create a vaccine schedule for the entire family. Insurance hasn't been an issue at all, thankfully: It's been 100% covered.
Our doctor sends in a prescription to CVS, and we get the shots there with an appointment, after confirming they’re in stock.
It’s been a little bit complicated with paperwork and logistics, but every medical provider along the way has been so supportive and not judgmental.
Changing my mind on vaccines has allowed me to reflect on how my decisions impact my family
I'm realizing the decision we made early on hurt my kids — and others. All I can do is recognize the harm I’ve caused, take responsibility, and move forward.
When it came time to get their first shots, we explained to our kids that we now believe this is the right thing to keep our family — and those around us — safe, and they completely understood. We are going to walk through this difficult thing with them and show them they’re not alone. It’s like a test at school. You have to take a test. It’s not fun, but once you do it, it’s done. There’s pride in that.
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We got the MMR vaccine first. My 7-year-old and 9-year-old have been really chill about it. We were able to bribe them with a treat, and they were fine. My 10-year-old has a lot of anxiety, so it has been more difficult. But we had the conversation that this is how we care for ourselves, so we don’t get really sick. She struggled with the first one and was sobbing as I held her in my lap. We didn’t normalize shots when they were younger, so it’s harder for them now.
I was nervous. I could feel my childhood "training" about vaccines playing in my head. But I took breaths, hugged my kids, answered their questions, and helped them stay occupied while we waited.
I also reminded myself of some truths: I can trust science. I’m scared because of things I believed that weren’t true. Fear is residual. I comforted my kids despite the lingering nervousness within me because I don't make decisions out of fear anymore. I base them in fact and science, and know that I'm just doing the best that I can with what I know, which is a value I've always had.
We got the shots on a Friday so they could rest over the weekend, but they were fine. A little tired, but not a single fever.
I’ve learned not to be afraid
Earlier this year, I posted about this decision to finally vaccinate my kids. I wanted to get it out there and say that it’s okay to change your mind, and the response has been overwhelming — in a good way.
I was expecting the pro-vax crowd to be upset with me for taking so long to get vaccinated, but it’s been the opposite of that. I've received thousands of comments — more than I ever have on the platform — and people have been so kind and supportive.
A big part of changing my mind was realizing I had been told to fear scientists, data, and doctors. I now realize that pediatricians go into their field because they care about kids and keeping them healthy. So my advice to other parents is not to be afraid.
I didn’t know, but I know now: We have to deal with the consequences of our actions, and unfortunately, this affects the people we love. The only thing I can do is recognize that I caused harm and change my behavior. I have talked to my kids about that, to model it: “Hey, even Mom makes mistakes.”
We’re recognizing the impact — and choosing to do better, one step at a time.
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