It was the fourth pharmacy that finally accepted my prescription. The pharmacist informed me, “We have this, but it’s a controlled substance. You’ll need a new handwritten prescription from your doctor each month for refills.” I nodded, quickly diverting my gaze, trying to maintain my composure. As she filled the bottle with thirty seemingly innocuous capsules and sent it my way through a chute, I felt a flurry of emotions. “Do you have any questions?” she asked. Oh, I had countless questions, but I simply replied, “No, thank you,” rolled up my car window, and drove away, tears streaming down my cheeks.
During my pregnancy with my son, I adhered strictly to every guideline. I took prenatal vitamins, avoided artificial sweeteners, and abstained from alcohol entirely. Even when I craved spicy Thai food, I opted for cooked sushi only. I was meticulous about the temperature of my bathwater and wouldn’t take so much as a Tylenol. For those nine months, I found comfort in the rules, believing they guaranteed my child’s well-being. I was relieved when he was born healthy and strong.
Fast forward ten years, and here I was, sitting in the worn passenger seat of my aging minivan, gripping a bottle of amphetamines with my child’s name on it. As I read through the accompanying literature in a Starbucks parking lot, I felt overwhelmed. The potential side effects included increased heart rate, addiction, and even psychotic symptoms. I laid my head on the steering wheel, allowing the tears to flow.
In our household, we’re not the type to keep Motrin on hand for headaches or fevers. We rarely take medication and often throw out expired bottles of vitamins. I strive to find the “safest” sunscreen, choose aluminum-free deodorant for my boys, and buy organic produce. Overall, I am cautious, and the idea of giving my child a drug that is essentially speed is terrifying.
This is the same child I exclusively breastfed for over a year, hoping to protect his gut health by avoiding formula. Now, I found myself intentionally altering his brain chemistry with medication. It felt surreal.
Long before that moment in the parking lot, I had asked myself countless questions: Is this normal? Why isn’t he happy? Why does he struggle in school? How can we help him? After many sleepless nights filled with tears and a desperate search for answers, we saw doctors, therapists, and tried various coping strategies. The complexity of the human brain is daunting, and the search for solutions is rarely straightforward.
I read articles that both terrified and shamed me. Alternative schooling options loomed in my mind, but my son preferred to stay with his friends—the people who brought him joy. His teachers, who genuinely cared for him, collaborated with us to find solutions. After exhausting every other avenue, we arrived at the difficult decision to consider medication.
With a heavy heart, I approached this choice with apprehension. How could I offer my child a controlled substance and treat it as if it were normal? No parent envisions a journey that leads to medicating their child. Yet, how could I not take every possible step to support my son, who battles everyday challenges that I cannot overcome with sheer willpower? I vowed to do anything to make his world a little easier, to help the boy who loves deeply and works diligently, yet still faces struggles.
Parenting is a leap of faith from beginning to end. We gather information and make decisions based on what we know, all while navigating a sea of uncertainties. There are no guarantees and no way to predict outcomes. We might make mistakes or we might get it right. Yet, we must press on and make decisions for our children.
We hold their hands and take the plunge.
I can’t yet say whether medication will be the answer for my son or our family. I don’t know if it will relieve him of his burdens or help him find joy at home and school. However, I’ve seen glimpses of hope—smiles that were previously absent and a newfound calm in our home. For the first time in a long while, I feel a flicker of optimism.
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In summary, the decision to medicate can be daunting, but it’s a step taken with love and hope for a brighter future for our children.