I always considered myself a devoted parent, but raising a son with ADHD made me reevaluate everything—my child, my parenting style, and our ability to navigate the toughest moments without losing our cool.
The signs of his condition became apparent when he was just in preschool. While other children focused on coloring letters, my son flipped over tables, knocked down bookshelves, and bolted from the classroom. During a meeting with his teacher, I could see the concern etched on her face. She lowered her voice as if it could somehow soften the reality of the situation. But all I could hear in my head was: You are failing as a mother. You are failing.
When a doctor diagnosed him with ADHD and ODD, I felt a mix of relief and burden. It was comforting to know my son wasn’t a “bad kid,” but convincing others of this truth proved to be a daunting challenge. When your child faces a developmental challenge, you become an unwitting advocate—whether you want to or not.
You may not be responsible for educating everyone, yet it feels like a duty you cannot ignore. My sister, who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, often says it’s tough to reveal the struggle of an invisible illness. Unlike a broken leg, you can’t showcase a cast on your head.
Keeping family harmony was another challenge entirely. With two sons at home, the one who followed the rules grew increasingly resentful. He witnessed my stress, tears, and frustration as his brother spiraled out of control. He questioned why I seemed to favor his brother, serving him coffee at breakfast and allowing him to take Mountain Dew to school daily. I had read somewhere that caffeine could help with focus, and by fourth grade, his doctor had prescribed psychotropic meds. I explored numerous alternatives, from eliminating synthetic dyes to giving him fish oil supplements, but every well-meaning friend had their opinions. I longed for a magic solution, yet it felt like I was stuck in a never-ending cycle.
If there existed a manual for motherhood, it clearly didn’t apply to our situation. Even though I understood that comparisons with other mothers were futile, I couldn’t help but watch how they managed their lives—how they kept appointments and arrived on time. I saw their successes as reminders of my failures, and my son did the same. He believed his older brother was good while he was bad—a narrative he internalized.
Comparing ourselves to others can be crushing.
At that time, I wasn’t aware of the vast community of mothers who also felt overwhelmed. I didn’t know that there were moms who didn’t wake up cheerful or bake cookies before work, who lost track of school forms, and who sometimes mistakenly drove their kids to school on a Saturday. There were mothers like me who felt the weight of worry pressing down on them. Juggling a full-time job and coping with the stress of divorce often felt unbearable. Our mornings resembled a chaotic concert with shouting and frustration. Guilt consumed me, guilt for my lack of answers and for dreaming about losing my temper. I didn’t realize that my feelings were normal—that it’s possible to love fiercely and feel frustrated at the same time.
Some days, it was challenging to remember that my son’s brain was wired differently. Research from the American Academy of Child and Adolescent Psychiatry indicates that certain areas of an ADHD child’s brain can be smaller than those of their peers. Although this doesn’t impact intelligence, the underdeveloped frontal lobe can hinder problem-solving, memory, impulse control, and attention span.
My ex-husband often claimed that my son’s behavior stemmed from a lack of discipline, dismissing ADHD as an excuse for poor parenting. To outsiders, my selective battles appeared to be favoritism. In truth, a mother must prioritize her child who is struggling.
As my son entered his teenage years, underlying depression and hormonal changes amplified his anger. He withdrew from school, spent hours gaming, and lashed out at anyone who entered his room. Experts advised me to hate the illness, love the child. Yet, it was challenging to show love when he was destructive. Anger masked deeper issues like sadness, anxiety, and self-hate.
Despite his behavior, I learned that labeling a child as “bad” could reinforce negative actions. According to Dr. James Greenblatt, author of Finally Focused, such criticism leads to resentment.
Now at 22, my son is stable and thriving, thanks to therapy, medication, and exercise. However, it took years of struggle for us to fully comprehend his condition. I still grapple with doubts about my parenting choices. I remind myself that ADHD is a neurodevelopmental disorder, and even professionals acknowledge the chaos it brings. Motherhood doesn’t equip you with all the answers; you learn, adapt, struggle, and sometimes, it all works out.
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Summary:
Raising a son with ADHD can lead to immense personal questioning and struggle. From early signs in preschool to navigating the challenges of adolescence, the journey is fraught with doubt, guilt, and the need for advocacy. Despite the chaos, understanding, and support can lead to a positive outcome, as parents learn to adapt and grow alongside their children.
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