I found myself cradling those small pills in my hand, and I felt utterly defeated. A new battle had begun. With my son’s innocent eyes fixed on me, I uttered a painful untruth, “This is safe. You’ll be fine. I promise.” In that moment, my internal voice screamed, “Liar! Terrible mother! Failure!”
The day I put my son on ADHD medication ranks among the most challenging of my life. I had battled the decision for so long, trying every “natural” method I could think of. I eliminated food colorings from his diet, invested in pricey “natural light” bulbs for our home, and even bought him a mini trampoline to help burn off energy. I encouraged him to take breaks during homework and read to him every night. I loved him fiercely and fought for his well-being.
My son was reluctant to take the medication. With a severe nut allergy, he was naturally cautious and hesitant to try anything new. Convincing him to swallow that pill turned into a battle of wills, one that I eventually won, albeit after tears from both of us, promises, threats, and ultimately, a bribe.
I assured him it was safe, yet deep down I knew I was misrepresenting the situation. I had read the studies, the potential side effects, and the uncertainty terrified me. These findings were relatively recent and not specific to my child. How could I be certain he wouldn’t be the exception who experienced adverse effects? How could I know that my decision wouldn’t hinder his brain development during such a critical time? Nevertheless, I led him to believe I had the answers, and as his mother, he placed his trust in me. He took that pill, day after day.
I kept a close watch for any changes in his behavior, appetite, or sleep patterns. He began skipping lunch, claiming he simply wasn’t hungry. Teachers reported that he was calmer but not necessarily more focused. He could sit still, but his attention remained elusive.
On weekends, I didn’t give him the medication. I hated seeing him subdued. It might sound irrational, but my son is meant to be vibrant, energetic, and occasionally overwhelming. That subdued version, who had become so thin that his doctor suggested increasing caloric intake, was not my child! I simply couldn’t accept the changes I saw in him, so I reserved the medication for school days.
I continued this regimen for five years, switching between various medications, each one accompanied by promises of improvement.
Then came middle school. He started expressing his desire to stop taking the medication. “I want to enjoy lunch. I don’t like how they make me feel,” he shared with me.
I was now forcing him to take medication he didn’t want, and he was pleading with me to stop. The constant parent-teacher conferences felt overwhelming as I received daily emails about his lack of engagement. Our homework battles became exhausting, draining the joy from our relationship. His self-esteem plummeted; my patience had worn thin, and we were both suffering. Yet, each morning, I handed him those pills and a lunchbox that would inevitably return home untouched. He accepted the medication, his eyes downcast, his compliance speaking volumes about his inner struggle.
My sense of failure and shame felt suffocating with each visit to the specialist for his prescription refills. I clung to the hope that time might bring change, or that a new medication could be the solution. We tried four different types, each with its own set of distressing side effects. Every time we began a new medication, I felt another wave of guilt wash over me as he asked, “Are you sure this one is okay?” He still trusted me, even as the lies became easier to tell and the guilt heavier to bear.
Eventually, circumstances shifted. He matured, and we discovered an alternative school that catered to his learning style and pace.
The most significant change, however, was that he no longer took those pills. The burden of guilt I had carried for so long was lifted. This was the right choice for both him and our family. I now embrace the son I have—imperfect yet perfect in his own unique way.
I share this story to shed light on the difficult decisions parents face when it comes to medicating their children. It’s not a choice made lightly or because we’ve been swayed by pharmaceutical companies or haven’t tried hard enough. If you’re navigating similar waters, remember to be gentle to those around you who are making tough decisions for their children. For some, medication proves beneficial; for others, like me, it offers some help but not the transformative change we hoped for. And for a few, it changes nothing, leaving them to start from square one.
Please approach these situations with empathy and refrain from judgment. You may never find yourself in a position where you must make promises to your child that leave you uncertain about your ability to keep them.
For those interested in other family-related topics, check out this insightful post on at-home insemination kits here. If you are looking for more information about pregnancy and home insemination, this resource is excellent.
Summary:
This article recounts a mother’s difficult journey navigating her child’s ADHD medication. It reflects on the emotional turmoil of making the decision to medicate, the struggles with side effects, and the eventual realization that the best path for her son and family was to discontinue the medication. The piece calls for understanding and compassion toward parents facing similar challenges.