I remember holding those tiny pills in my hand, feeling utterly defeated. With my son’s innocent eyes focused on me, I uttered what felt like the biggest lie of my life: “It’s safe. You’ll be fine. I promise.” Deep down, a voice screamed within me, “Liar! Terrible mother! You’re failing him!” The day I decided to give my son medication for his ADHD was one of the most challenging days I’ve ever faced. For a long time, I had resisted the thought of holding one of those pills. I had pursued natural remedies, from limiting artificial food dyes to purchasing pricey “natural light” bulbs for our home. I even bought a mini trampoline for him to bounce on, encouraged him to run laps during homework breaks, and dedicated my time to reading and nurturing him. I fought for him with everything I had.
My son was reluctant to take the medication. With a severe nut allergy, he was particularly cautious about trying new things, whether it was food or even candy. Convincing him to swallow that pill was a battle that required tears (from both of us), promises, threats, and ultimately a bribe. I had assured him it was safe, but I knew deep down I shouldn’t have made that promise. I had read the studies, the potential side effects, and felt a wave of fear wash over me. The research was relatively new and not based on his specific case. What if he was the one child who experienced an adverse reaction? What if the medication affected his developing brain? Despite these thoughts, I assured him I knew best, and as his mother, the person who loves him unconditionally, he trusted me. He took that pill, day after day.
I kept a close eye on him for any changes—his mood, appetite, sleep patterns. He stopped eating lunch altogether; he simply wasn’t hungry. Teachers noted he was calmer but still struggling to focus. He could sit quietly but not concentrate better. Most days, he was not disruptive.
On weekends, I refrained from giving him the pills. It may sound strange, but my vibrant, wild boy wasn’t meant to be calm. His lively nature, though at times exhausting, was who he was. The quiet, subdued child who had grown so thin his doctor urged us to increase his calorie intake wasn’t my son! I couldn’t bear to witness the transformation the medication imposed on him, so I only administered it on school days.
After five years of trying various medications, each accompanied by promises of improvement, we entered middle school. My son began expressing his disdain for the pills: “I want to enjoy lunch. I don’t like how they make me feel.” I found myself in the position of forcing him to take drugs, while he was pleading for me to let him stop.
Middle school brought a wave of parent-teacher meetings due to his ongoing struggles with schoolwork. The barrage of emails about extra homework for staring off into space was overwhelming. Both of us were breaking down. The nightly homework battles drained our joy and strained our relationship. His self-esteem plummeted, and my patience faded. Each morning, I handed him the pills and a lunchbox that I knew would return untouched. He took them without meeting my gaze, his compliance speaking volumes.
The weight of my guilt felt unbearable, especially during each visit to the specialist for his prescription refills. I hoped that time would bring about change, that a new medication could provide the solution we desperately needed. We tried four different medications, each with its own set of distressing side effects. Every morning I introduced a new drug felt like another notch on my guilt belt. “Are you sure this one is okay?” he would ask, still trusting me. I nodded, but the lies became easier to tell while the guilt became increasingly heavy.
Life began to change for us for various reasons. He was maturing, and we discovered an alternative school that catered to his unique learning style and pace. But the most significant change was that he no longer took those pills. I shed the cloak of guilt I had carried for so long. This decision was the best we could have made for my son and our family. I now have the son I am meant to have, perfect in his imperfections, as we all are.
I share this story to shed light on the difficult choices parents face when considering medication for their children. It’s not a decision made lightly, nor is it a result of being misled by pharmaceutical companies or a sign of not trying hard enough. The process of deciding to medicate is fraught with anxiety and uncertainty. For some, medication proves to be life-changing; for others, like me, it provides some relief but may not be the ultimate solution. There are cases where it changes nothing, leaving parents back at square one.
Let’s extend kindness and understanding to those parents navigating these challenging decisions. May you never have to face a choice that requires you to promise your child something you’re unsure you can deliver.
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Summary:
In this poignant reflection, a mother recounts her struggles with medicating her son for ADHD. After years of battling with the decision, she explores the emotional toll it took on their relationship and ultimately chooses to stop the medication. Through her experience, she advocates for understanding and compassion towards parents facing similar challenges, emphasizing that the decision to medicate is complex and often riddled with guilt.