ADHD

I was just scrolling through Facebook and ran across an article about ADHD. For some reason it made me reminisce about the discovery of Ammon's diagnosis and I decided I wanted to write it down. Then I realized that his diagnosis really started with my discovery that Andrew has ADHD, so I guess I'd better begin there.

In the early years of our marriage, Andrew and I got to a point where we decided to see a counselor together. Ammon was still quite young - just two years old, and our only child at the time. The first time we met Betty, she took us into her office and pretty much by the time we were seated she looked at Andrew and said, "Do you know that you have ADHD?" I was startled by her question and wondered how she could immediately assess him like that. Equally startled, he looked at her and explained, "Well, I was diagnosed when I was six, but when my parents tried Ritalin I didn't sleep well so they took me off of it. The doctors told them that I would grow out of it. How did you know?"

She said she picked up on it based on the way he fidgeted with his shoe laces, or something along those lines. She was very familiar with ADHD tendencies, as she had it herself, and felt certain in her assessment. She explained that although it had once been thought that a person grows out of ADHD, that this was often NOT the case. I can't remember if it was then, or later, that Andrew took this information really hard. The idea that there was something "not normal" about his brain was distressing to him. I think that she perhaps mentioned the idea of medication, but Andrew was too upset about feeling "different" and opted against it.

We started learning about ADHD and discovered that it is very genetic. This left us wondering if Ammon might have it. He was a busy child who seemed to be always on the go and had no fear. He was constantly getting lost when we took him places because he just explored himself away from us without ever looking back. There were times when he would actually leave stores and go wander in the parking lot alone. Taking him places was something I avoided at all costs. But he was still just two years old and at that age, Betty told us, it was too difficult to distinguish between a diagnosable condition and normal toddler tendencies.

As life went on, we returned to Betty's office with things about as bad in Andrew's life as they could possibly be. He seemed to be spinning his wheels on all fronts and not making any progress in his life. Exasperated, Betty just looked at him and asked, "Are you taking your medication?"

Stunned, he just looked back and said, "I don't have medication."

At that point she told him that he really needed to look into treating his ADHD and that she didn't think his life would improve until he did. This was really traumatic for him. The idea that he needed medication to "function" was absolutely heartbreaking to him. It hit his whole self-image and crushed who he felt like he was as a person. Still, after taking some time to let the idea sink in, he ultimately decided that he was ready to try whatever he needed to try. He started taking the medication, and life slowly started to piece it's way back together. We still had ups and downs, but improvement started to happen that hadn't existed before. He quickly came to appreciate the blessing of his medication.

Ammon continued to be Ammon. He got a new brother and soon our little Ammon was a sunbeam in primary and then he was getting ready for Kindergarten. I asked everyone I knew whether or not they thought he had ADHD. I had a friend who taught school so I thought she might have some insight. She didn't. I visit taught a woman who had an adult son with ADHD. She also taught Ammon's primary class. I'll always remember her response when I asked if she thought Ammon might have ADHD. She said, "Oh, Jenny - he's got something!" I always appreciated that - she was by far the most confident and direct person I ever talked to with all my sincere wondering.

Ammon's kindergarten year, I went back to college. One of my classes that first semester was Abnormal Child Psychology. It was a weekly class and I remember being so excited when it was time to spend the three hour class period learning about ADHD. Finally, I could get some real insights about my child!

I had already done the reading and we had some instruction. Then the teacher said that she wanted to show us a case study of a child with ADHD. This was it - the moment I was looking for - a real life exampled of ADHD in childhood! I remember feeling disappointed when the movie was over. It wasn't nearly as clear as I had hoped! The nuances of ADHD seemed to evade me. The child wasn't really THAT different than Ammon and I still couldn't tell which side of the line Ammon should fall on. The lights went on and the teacher asked the class what they thought. Suddenly the room was filled with sounds of sympathy for the mother in the video who dealt with such trying circumstances. I was stunned! Everything about the video was so NORMAL to me. It was so much of what I experienced. And yet these people thought it was extreme and outrageous and hard. At that moment I became convinced that Ammon had ADHD. 

The class continued and we discussed the merits and concerns of medication for children with ADHD. Andrew and I had discussed medication for Ammon before on the IF he had ADHD and had determined that we didn't feel it necessary to medicate a child. But the more I learned about the option, the more confident I felt that it had it's place. But it wasn't until we started to discuss the emotional regulation aspect of ADHD that I changed my mind completely. I had only ever thought of ADHD in terms of hyperactivity and impulse control I had NEVER before known that ADHD was the explanation for Ammon's melt downs. The distress he felt when it was time to leave his cousins house and the need for justice he experienced when getting bumped by another child, even accidentally, was suddenly seen through new eyes. I didn't mind having a child who was a little rambunctious and disorderly, but my heart broke to realize that he struggled with the basics of processing his emotions and therefore stayed unnecessarily distressed about things that most of us would not be bothered by.

What happened next was interesting to me. I had spent years thinking this diagnosis was a possibility for son. I was educated on the topic. I didn't have any sense of parenting guilt that I had somehow caused it. I knew that it was largely genetic and not environmental. As I had learned about ADHD, I had discovered that many of the things I loved about Andrew was because of his ADHD, not despite it. So ADHD really didn't have a negative connotation in my mind. In short, I felt that no one could be better prepared to learn of this sort of diagnosis for a child than I was. And yet I still felt completely overwhelmed and uncertain as to where to go from there.

Ultimately, I decided to just schedule an evaluation with his existing pediatrician. This man was old, and I wondered if he would feel like ADHD wasn't a real thing. I was worried that I'd be pushing against a wall. I also had them do some screenings at school. Both the medical determination, and the school determination was that Ammon had ADHD-C. The school also screened Ammon for Aspberger's and his test to that was clearly negative.

The medication made a big difference for Ammon. Kindergarten is the only year he ever had disciplinary issues at school (other than being sent to the principle for reading in class). That year he struggled with some kids who would deliberately needle him. He would react - Ammon ALWAYS reacted. We noticed that getting him to leave his cousins home was easier. He was better behaved at church.

The medication is hard. Ritalin didn't work for him because he would experience a "crash" when it was done. He had huge emotional fits when his medication wore out. But changing to Vyvance, which was a slow on and slow off version alleviated that. We learned that undermedicating is what causes the "zombie" effect. We learned that the proper dosage messes with his sleep and his eating, although he sleep struggles when he isn't medicated as well. The only time he sleeps well is when he is undermedicated.... in that zombie zone. We choose to not go that route. To help his body "relax" from the impacts of the medication, he always spends one day a week unmedicated. Those days are difficult for all of us. It's a constant juggle of pros and cons. On his unmedicated days he is much more likely to get in trouble. He is much more likely to feel distressed. He is much more likely to not accomplish the most basic tasks. On the days he is medicated, I feel like we get to see the real him. He is a gentle, kind, thoughtful, intelligent boy who is an absolute delight and is happy to be productive and helpful.

As he's grown, and I've seen the impact ADHD has on his life, and has had on my husband's life, I feel differently than I did when he was first diagnosed. I wish he didn't have it. I wish he didn't rely to heavily on a daily medication. We try to teach him that his diagnosis isn't an excuse - it's an explanation. In other words, it doesn't mean that he doesn't need to accomplish certain things, but it simply explains why some things might be harder for him than they are for others. But as it would be for all parents, it's hard to know that some things are just harder for my child.

I love him and I'm proud of who he is. ADHD isn't who he is. He is Ammon. A unique and amazing individual that I feel so lucky to have in my life!