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Of course, I was a little nervous for my son's first day of second grade. It was a new school for him and he had had "problems" in kindergarten and first grade.The usual diffculties I underlined in books with a heavy heart and a knowing sigh. But my refusal to medicate him had led me to a dead end with the school and the doctors. I closed my eyes and hoped for the best. Not exactly a winning stragedy for dealing with ADHD.So I wasn't exactly surprised to see the teacher and school counselor waiting for me when I came to pick up my son, but terrificly disappointed. Watching and waiting hadn't worked and now I finally had to admit I needed help.

"Adrian" had always been active even before he was born. He would kick so furiously I would swear to my husband he was destined to be a soccer player. When I held him in my arms for the first time I was completely overwhelmed with his perfectness and the awesome responsiblity I now had.I could barely balance my own checkbook and now I was in charge of this little human being. He wasn't easy, either.He cried inconsolably whenever he wasn't the center of attention, refused to sleep in a crib (after two hours of "crying it out" I relented) and he was always into everything. But I loved him as I had never loved anyone before and wrote it all off as typical baby woes and then toddler antics.I dreamed of doing crafts projects together and sharing with him my love of art.

When the time came for him to go to daycare when he was two years old the separation was terrible for both of us.I put on a brave face as I left him but I sat in the car sobbing before finally composing myself to go into my new job.The director of his day care told me that he was adjusting okay but that he had trouble transitioning from one activity to another.Adrian was having tantrums. She told me this with a very serious tone and a pentrating look that puzzled me. He was only two, all of this was normal, right? Pre-school went much the same way, but I began to see his peers mature when he did not. They interupted less, they could write their names, they could be still for longer. I began to suspect that something was different with Adrian.And I was terrifed. So I started to try to work with him .To make him sit, make him try to write, make him calmer. I was desperate to force it out of him. I did not want this shame. I did not want him to have this burden to carry. He was too impatient for crafts and his quick mind couldn't slow down long enough

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