When they’re little, you carry the epinephrine auto-injectors everywhere. In a diaper bag, then in your purse. On the first day of school, you hand a set to the school nurse, along with all the forms.
You pass it off to other parents for playdates and sleepovers. You hope by having epinephrine nearby, it will keep away harm.
Then you blink, and they’re teenagers. They forget to bring their auto-injectors. Or they insist they have them, and later you discover, well, they really didn’t.
You worry. Should you drop what you’re doing and bring the epinephrine to them? You tell them not to eat anything. And to please be careful. By this age, you’re already reminding them about so many other things.
And then, there’s that night. A first prom in April 2025. It was supposed to be magical. Her hazel green eyes stunning, her long brown hair in soft curls. A green dress that shimmered.
But at the end of the evening, the 15-year-old ate a cookie. The auto-injector wasn’t in her purse. You drive as fast as you can, auto-injectors in hand. But you’re too late.
Brilliant Isabella
Isabella St. Jean was Christopher and Maricela St. Jean’s only child. After the couple learned they were expecting on Christmas Day, her father dubbed her “their Christmas miracle.”
She was born in San Diego on August 29, 2009. Maricela called her Bella. Christopher, and many of her friends, called her Izzy. She was a strikingly beautiful child. She modeled and, among other roles, appeared in a Barbie commercial. “Is that not every little girl’s dream?” Christopher says.
She grew into a vibrant, intelligent and thoughtful teen, who loved Lana Del Rey and The Smiths, hanging out with friends and playing video games.
Isabella was a natural at the violin. The teen was selected for an all-state competition, and a local couple wanted her to play at their wedding. Isabella loved art and digital painting. She thought she might become a psychiatrist.
In school, Isabella excelled and was an Honors student. Jessica Vallincourt, her English teacher, called her “deeply insightful and wholly authentic.”
“Her brilliance,” she said, “was simply a part of her, and it came out in everything she did.”
Allergies and Vigilance
When she was a year old, Isabella experienced her first allergic reaction, to a bite of peanut butter and jelly. Given her symptoms and young age, the pediatrician told her parents: “Go immediately to the emergency room.”
Following a diagnosis of peanut and tree nut allergies, allergy awareness and precautions became part of the St. Jeans’ life. “It was our journey of educating ourselves about food allergies,” Maricela says. “We spent so much time educating her,” Christopher notes. “Read the labels; look for the food allergy warnings.”
Over the next 14 years, Isabella had a few accidental allergen exposures. On these rare occasions, the reactions were mild and she recovered by taking antihistamines.
As she grew older, the family stayed vigilant. At school, Maricela always made sure the epinephrine auto-injectors were with the school nurse. At friends’ houses, they were in her backpack and handed off to a parent.
According to her friends, Isabella was careful. She read labels, and stuck to familiar restaurants and known foods. “She was very proactive and engaged with social settings with her food allergies. That is part of what makes that night even more difficult,” Christopher says.
The Tragedy Unfolds
In 2021, Christopher’s job moved the family from San Diego to Helena, Montana. Isabella tended to be quiet, yet she made friends easily. She was also the first to welcome other new students into the fold, perhaps knowing how it felt to be the new kid.
As a sophomore, Isabella was invited to the junior prom by one of her friends. “She was so excited,” Maricela recalls.
At the end of the prom evening, as Isabella and her friend headed out to the car, Isabella took a cookie from a tray. Her parents are not sure exactly which cookie she ate or why. But their understanding is that these were a grocery store’s assorted cookies.
Isabella’s symptoms started almost immediately after the cookie, her mother says. The teen called her mom, asking her to bring her medicine. Maricela jumped out of bed, grabbed the auto-injectors, and rushed to her car. She planned to meet Isabella at her friend’s home.
But as they drove away from the dance, Isabella’s symptoms rapidly worsened and she called her mother in a panic. “She said, ‘Mommy how far are you?’ She was really stressed and crying. ‘I’m scared. I can’t breathe,’” Maricela recalls. “I said: ‘Wait for me. Just breathe. I’m going to be there.’”
Christopher, working 1,400 miles away in Alaska, watched helplessly as he tracked Isabella’s GPS location, sending the coordinates to his wife.
Isabella’s friend had called 911 from the car. The ambulance pulled into a gas station where the girls had stopped, about two miles from the dance. Maricela pulled in just behind them. Police were already there. They were performing chest compressions.
What’s not clear to the family is exactly what care was given when, including when Isabella was given epinephrine. “What we know is that, ultimately, it didn’t save Isabella,” says Christopher.
Grieving Their Loss
When Isabella passed away, it left her family and her school community shattered. The enormity of their grief swallowed the St. Jeans.
Triggers for Isabella’s loss are everywhere. A favorite song. A father and daughter at the store. Someone casually asking if they have kids. “It’s easier for me just saying ‘yes, she’s 16,’” Christopher says, “than it is to say no.”
They struggle with the “what ifs,” such as why their daughter who was educated about her allergies would eat a cookie at a school event, and why the epinephrine wasn’t in her purse.
“We had so many things we were worried about,” notes Maricela. “She was a new driver. She had a boyfriend. She had asthma. Recently, she’d been diagnosed with EoE, so she had to take her medicine every morning and every afternoon. We had so many things we were reminding her about.”
She says of epinephrine: “You forget that one day to remind them, and that is the day it happens.”
“With teens sometimes you reach a point where telling them yet again is met with resistance,” adds Christopher. “We tried to find new ways to communicate to her about this topic.” The grieving dad’s important message to other parents of teens with food allergies: “They’re teenagers, but they’re still kids.”
“Don’t give up advocating, reminding them or fighting them to bring an auto-injector,” he says.
Remembering Isabella
Her Helena High School classmates, supported by the teachers who adored Isabella, held a memorial service. One student sang “In the Arms of an Angel.” Her English teacher Jessica Vallincourt said Isabella’s words “carried warmth and weight.” She had “a sharp and creative mind, alive with curiosity, always wondering, and always reaching just a little bit deeper.”
“Izzy shone so brightly, her impact was not dependent upon time,” the teacher said in her eulogy. “Her impact is felt instantly, deeply and permanently.”
And then, one by one, the students stood and spoke. Through tears, they shared happy memories: making Taylor Swift bracelets for the movie premiere, laughing in orchestra practice, the thrill of a getting her driver’s learning permit, and slipping back into their seats with seconds to spare before the bell. “Every day for her was like an adventure and something fun,” said her friend Gabby.
One boy remembered being captivated by her confidence during a group presentation. “I remember thinking, ‘I really hope I know her when I grow up.’”
They also spoke of Isabella’s deep well of kindness. She befriended kids who didn’t fit the high school mold, and noticed when someone needed a friend.
“I always thought she was so beautiful,” said a girl named Elia, who hadn’t been good with hair or makeup. She said Isabella came over to her house to give her the “full glam” treatment. “We laid in my bed and just talked forever. She’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”
Christopher and Maricela listened, marveling at each story. “Our daughter had a whole other life out there we didn’t fully understand,” Christopher says. “She touched so many people, and so many people knew her and loved her.”
Jenifer Goodwin is a senior Allergic Living contributor and an allergy mom.
Related Reading:
Allergist’s View: Talking with Teens About Carrying Epinephrine
Is Your Allergic Teen Taking Risks, Avoiding Food Allergy Rules?
