When I found out I was pregnant with a boy, I was scared to death. I didn't have any experiences with little boys and all I knew is that they are rebellious, rough, and thrive on action and violence. What was I going to do with a boy? How would I relate? How would we bond?During my first pregnancy with my daughter, I was very vocal about my insistence on having a girl. A woman I worked with at the time, a single mother of two tween-age boys, told me time and time again that there is something very special about the bond between a boy and his mom. Thanks for trying Gwen, but it wasn't enough to sway my opinion. I wanted a girl I could put in pretty dresses with bows in her hair and later understand her emotions and needs. The unknown of having my first child meant I needed the familiarity of a girl. Thank goodness someone out there was listening. Just a handful of weeks into my pregnancy with Luke, I knew he was a boy. My entire body felt different. And the pregnancy was unplanned. Only a boy could wreak havoc like this. The presence of massive amounts of testosterone in my body was confirmed during my fifth month by ultrasound. While I was relieved he was healthy and everything was in the right place (they found placenta previa at my mid-pregnancy ultrasound with Emma), I was ripe with fear. I was convinced boys were trouble. I immersed myself in preparing for a boy and I suppressed my fears about mothering a boy. There wasn't anything I could do at that point to get more comfortable with it or to change it (thank goodness I couldn't have changed it!). So I bought little boy clothes, I bought little boy blankets, I bought a new car seat, stroller, and bouncy seat. I was as ready as I could be for this unknown. And I comforted by reminding myself that he was my baby and I would love him despite his male anatomy. I was very sick with Luke from the onset of my pregnancy. I had severe heartburn from month 3 and had to sleep sitting up and live on a diet of mostly milk products from there on out. I was showing after 6 weeks and ballooned to nearly full-term circumference by month 6. I was huge, my digestive system was revolting, I had a face full of acne like I'd never experienced and I could barely get two hours of sleep at a time. By 37 weeks my OBGYN was estimating a 9-10 pound baby and I was utterly miserable (and she was way off, three weeks later he was born 8 lbs.). I began to beg her each week to "get him out of me." She finally complied by inducing me a week before my due date. However, like a stubborn male would do, he all but refused to come out. My induction and labor with him was nearly twice as long as with Emma (also induced with her). They lost his heartbeat, I was on oxygen, I actually vomitted to push him out (not on purpose, I was that sick). It was a disaster. It was so exhausting that I allowed them to keep him in the nursery that night after having him for a couple hours. A few hours after he was born, I realized the epidural had worn off in one leg and not the other. I decided I just didn't have the sensation back all he way and got up to use the restroom. Well, I attempted to get up but fell to the floor when I put weight on that leg. It was completely dead. I thought the epidural had gone wrong and I was partially paralyzed. Icing on the cake! Then I heard the nurses whispering to each other in my room at 2 am that they hate it when the anesthesiologist gets lazy and puts in a partial spinal block to fix the patchiness of an epidural and then doesn't tell the patient. I was livid to say the least. But, I knew I would regain use of my leg. Silver lining indeed. So, as you can tell, Luke made his arrival in dramatic fashion. I should have known then life with him would always be dramatic. But who thinks about things like ADHD when they look at their newborn? Especially without diagnosed ADHD in the family. Needless to say, Luke and I bonded quickly. From day one, I felt that s pecial mother-son connection my friend had told me about. I was in love, no doubt, and so glad he was out of my body.Luke was a little late to roll over, sit up, and crawl. In fact, he never really crawled but pulled his body across the floor with is arms. He wasn't so late with any of these milestones that his pediatrician was concerned, so I wasn't concerned either. Other than that, his babyhood was pretty uneventful. He was even much healthier overall than Emma had been (oh, the raging ear infections). Luke was a very quiet baby and toddler. He was easy-going and spoke more with gentle actions and expressions than with words. But one day in his second or third year, I remember taking notice that he was talking like crazy, incessantly. I figured he was finally old enough to be influenced by his motor-mouth sister and was just taking cues from her. Again, what parent looks at their talkative toddler and thinks ADHD? As much as I loved having two completely opposite personalities in my children, and having a gentle little boy, I also enjoyed watching him "come alive." He was still gentle but had much more spunk and energy.Through his toddler years, we never noticed anything more than toddler independence, defiance, and tantrums. Nothing that was out of the ordinary for a child that age. Nothing that was a cause for any sort of concern. His sister was a more rebellious, difficult toddler than he. Much more! ![]() Even when Luke entered Kindergarten in 2007, I thought he was a regular pre-K kiddo. He was so intelligent I knew he would do great in school, despite sartingat very young age. Of course, nothing is as you expect it. His teacher called a conference on Day 3 and said I need to teach him to be more in control of his body and focused on the task at hand. Sure I can see a bright red flag waving in front of my face now. Then? I just thought her expectations were too high and he was just a normal, nearly 5-year-old, inquisitive little boy. I felt certain she hadn't given the newness of school enough time to settle. The entire year was full of accusations of immaturity and bad parenting. And with the situation in the classroom (read my first few posts) I felt that was the problem, not Luke. Entering first grade at a new school with a new teacher in 2008, I was confident Luke would find his stride and everything would be great. But just a couple weeks in I noticed a pattern of bad behavior reports coming home. Finally, I saw the red flag. I felt it in the sinking feeling in my gut too. That proved that it wasn't the kindergarten classroom situation and it wasn't the kindergarten teacher. Something is going on with Luke. The teacher began making accommodations in the classroom for some of his learning needs and I took him straight to the pediatrician to talk about having him evaluated. At the time, I was convinced learning disabilities were causing his behavior problems. I read some about ADHD in books I was reading about learning disabilities but never gave it any serious thought as a possible diagnosis for Luke. Just as life is never what you expect, it was ADHD. The signs were everywhere. From the long, difficult labor, the extra hours on pitocin, the delay in baby milestones, the sudden talkativeness, the difficulty controlling his body, the lack of focus in a busy classroom full of new activities to explore, the bad behavior from a very sweet and kind kid, the soiling problems long after potty-training... The signs really were everywhere but I didn't know enough about ADHD to connect the dots. Each instance by itself can be something entirely different. But, dots connected, it is a clear picture of ADHD. It's a clear picture of my son. I'm not saying I should have known earlier. To diagnose ADHD at 6 years of age is statistically very early. I am grateful we were able to get a diagnosis in first grade. We are able to lay the groundwork to teach organization and good habits and ensure a successful life. While there are often ADHD signs everywhere, parental denial and societal scorn seems to block them. In the future it will be easier to accept ADHD and see the many gifts it brings with it when society is educated enough not to judge. We must continue the conversation about ADHD and its gifts so we can change the experience for the ADHD kids of the future. ------------------------------------------------------- Pictured, from top: Emma showing her unborn brother love; Luke with mom at 5 weeks, not fond of the camera; Luke at approx 2 years hiding in the corner cabinet, he closed the door and everything; Luke's first day of kindergarten. . |
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