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The Choice to Medicate: A Reflection on Parenting Decisions
In a moment of vulnerability outside my local pharmacy, I finally received the prescription I had been searching for. The pharmacist informed me that this medication was a controlled substance, requiring a new handwritten prescription from my doctor each month for refills. I nodded, trying to maintain my composure, but tears streamed down my cheeks as I drove away, grappling with the weight of what I was about to do.
During my pregnancy with my son, I adhered strictly to all health guidelines. I took my prenatal vitamins diligently, avoided artificial sweeteners and deli meats, and abstained from alcohol entirely. I even limited my bathwater temperature and withheld from taking pain relievers like Tylenol. I believed that following these rules would ensure a healthy pregnancy and a safe start for my child. When my son was born healthy, I felt a sense of relief.
Fast forward ten years, and here I was, holding a bottle of amphetamines intended for that same child. As I sat in the parking lot of a Starbucks, I read the potential side effects: increased blood pressure, psychotic symptoms, addiction, even sudden death. I rested my forehead on the steering wheel, overwhelmed by the gravity of the situation.
Our family rarely uses medication. We seldom have even basic pain relief like Motrin on hand, and we avoid vitamins that expire on the shelf. As someone who is generally risk-averse, the thought of giving my son a medication that functions as speed was terrifying. This was the same child I had breastfed for over a year, determined to preserve his health and avoid altering his gut flora with formula. Now, I was faced with changing his brain chemistry through medication.
Years of questions plagued me: Was his behavior normal? Why was he unhappy? Why did he struggle with school? How could we help him? I often cried myself to sleep, desperate for answers. We explored every avenue, from reading self-help books and online resources to consulting with doctors, therapists, and counselors. We tried various therapeutic approaches, including cognitive behavioral therapy and coping strategies. Unfortunately, the complexities of the human brain defy simple answers.
I considered alternative educational options, but my son wanted to stay with his friends, the people who brought him joy. His teachers were supportive, regularly communicating with me about his progress. After exhausting all other possibilities for three years, we ultimately decided to try medication, albeit with great hesitation and heartache. It felt unnatural to prescribe a controlled substance to my child, but I was also compelled to seek relief for his daily struggles.
Parenting requires immense faith. From the moment we cradle our babies to watching them venture into the world as independent individuals, we gather information and make decisions based on what we know. There are countless uncertainties, and despite our best efforts, we cannot control everything. The realization that we might make the wrong decision is daunting, yet we must forge ahead.
As we navigate this journey, we hold our children’s hands and leap into the unknown. I cannot definitively say whether this medication will improve my son’s life or our family’s dynamic. What I can share is that I have begun to see glimpses of hope—a few smiles where there were once shadows, and a newfound calm in our home that we had not experienced before.
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Summary:
Deciding to medicate a child after years of struggling with behavioral issues is a significant and emotional choice for parents. This reflection highlights the complexities of parenting, the quest for answers, and the hope that medication might provide relief for a child facing daily challenges. Ultimately, it underscores the unpredictable journey of parenthood, where faith in one’s decisions is paramount.