Andrew's Story

      I am the mother of a 13-year-old boy named Andrew and this is his story.

      Andrew was born in January 1988.   He was 7 pounds 15 ounces, 20.5 inches.   It was the most wonderful, exciting, and fulfilling day of our life and every day since has been unforgettable.   My pregnancy was uneventful -- easy as pie, actually.   The birth was just as easy.   Andrew was a ‘busy’ baby who never, ever slept.   At 6 months old, he was only taking one nap a day, and that only lasted about an hour, if I was lucky!   He wouldn’t fall asleep until 11:00pm every night, and that didn’t get better until he was almost three.   Even then, he was taking one 30-minute nap and was extremely active.   I remember putting him in the car as much as possible just to get him to sleep for a while.   It was the only thing that worked!

      Andrew got the first of many ear infections at 8 months old, which were pretty much a big part of our lives for the next 4 years.   Andrew had what seemed to be one ear infection every month.   Sometimes there were even two per month.   At no time did our pediatrician recommend tubes, even when I asked if they were something to consider.   At the time, they were not recommended as often as they are now.   We were also very young and this was our first child.   We really didn’t know better.  So we never questioned the doctor.

      Andrew entered pre-school/day-care at the age of three.   It was 1990 and I was pregnant with our second son, Ryan.   My pregnancy was not at all as easy as the first and I honestly couldn’t give Andrew all the attention he needed all day long.   We had constant conversations with Andrew’s teachers and none of them ever thought there was a problem.   He was “just being a boy.”   There were discussions about him not wanting to do the schoolwork.   There were phone calls about his behavior (biting, hitting, not napping, etc) but no one ever suggested that there might be anything wrong with Andrew -- psychologically, educationally, or otherwise.

      Then first grade arrived.   In November 1993, Andrew’s teacher called and discussed the fact that she was concerned about his language and learning style.   She asked if the school could do some testing for special needs.   We both agreed with major trepidation.   A month later, we were told that Andrew had mild learning disabilities in reading and speech/language and they wanted to begin special education services.   Andrew began going to the special ed resource room for speech and “reading recovery.”   He “graduated” from the reading program in May but, concerned that he wasn’t reading as well as his peers, they recommended that Andrew be placed in the inclusion class the following year.   They also felt it necessary that he receive special ed services for speech and language as well as reading, since his vocabulary and his phonetics were almost one year behind.   He was also still very hyperactive and he didn’t cooperate with other kids.   He was constantly being spoken to during the day, but still, no one ever mentioned any other possible problems.   It wasn’t until later that I learned they couldn’t suggest medical issues.

      So, second grade began. UUUGH! This is the year we refer to as “the wasted year.” Why? Well, the teacher, for one, was a teacher who should never have entered the profession. And, trust me, this is the consensus of many parents who have dealt with her. Slowly during this year Andrew’s behavior progressively went from bad to worse. He was biting, slapping, running, constantly disrupting class, and that’s just the beginning. To make matters worse, the teacher wasn’t trained in dealing with special needs children. Go figure! She was the inclusion teacher!

      This is when Andrew became friendly with a boy named Jake, who was in the same class. That spring, Andrew and Jake were on the same baseball team and I quickly became friends with Jake’s mom, Judi. We hit it off immediately. After the last game there was a team party and this is where I started to believe in fate. Judi was talking about Jake’s behavior when he was younger and I felt as though I was listening to someone else tell me about my son, not hers! Then she said Jake had been diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder with hyperactivity, or ADHD. I began to realize that there could actually be an explanation for Andrew’s behavior but at the same time, was terrified that my son could have a mental disorder. Judi slowly introduced ADHD to me and I know now that things happen for a reason – Judi and I met because we both needed someone to understand what life can be like with an ADHD child.