The Murphy Family’s experience with NACD has come at three major crossroads in our life. The first was when our oldest son was 18 years old and sustained a traumatic brain injury and shattered pelvis in a car accident. Two years later, we sought out NACD again when I (Kara) was completely overwhelmed by all the different learning challenges and exceptionalities that we were facing with our homeschooled children. I’m not sure, but I think we may set a record when we started “doing program” with seven children all at the same time. Our third major experience with NACD was when we found out that the baby I was carrying had spina bifida, a birth defect that affects the spine in a similar way to a spinal cord injury. Patrick’s lesion level was quite high, and the prognosis was that he would likely never walk, move or have sensation below his waist, he would not be able to urinate on his own, and he would be unable to control his bowels for his whole life.

On the first two major challenges, I can report that our experience with NACD was a complete success. Our son, Rich, made a full recovery within a year of his accident, an outcome that is unheard of for people with a TBI. Within two years of starting the six boys and one girl “on program,” all of the children were performing at, and mostly above, grade level in all subjects. Two are still in high school, but the rest graduated on time or ahead of schedule. Three are married, have children, and two own their own (or are part-owners of) businesses. 

Patrick is seven years old and his story is still being written. He started crawling and pulling up to standing when he was eight months old. He can currently stand for up to 30 minutes independently and takes up to 10 steps on his own. He has control of his bowels and is able to catheterize himself into a toilet. Patrick’s strength is constantly improving, and we have hope that he will get to the point that he will be able to walk independently.

We were devastated when a state trooper showed up on our doorstep on February 6, 2013 to report that on his way to a men’s morning prayer meeting our 18-year-old son slid on black ice, lost control of his car, and smashed into a tree. He was flown by helicopter to a bigger hospital in the next city. Steve arrived at the hospital first and had to confirm Rich‘s identity. He was rushed into surgery where a portion of his skull was removed to allow for the swelling that comes from a traumatic brain injury. We spent eight days in the ICU not sure if Rich was going to make it or not. Once he was stable, he was moved by ambulance to another hospital, where an orthopedic surgeon put a steel rod through his pelvis. While he was recovering from that surgery, we got a call from a family who had gone through a similar thing and had seen our prayer request on our church’s email loop. Knowing that we were homeschoolers and very committed to providing as much therapy at home as we could, they thought we should know about NACD. We are so grateful that that family reached out. We were still in the hospital when we talked to Bob Doman for the first time. He helped us to create a strategy to get Rich transported back to our home instead of being sent to a facility where he would receive one hour of therapy a day and spend the rest of his day staring at blank walls. 

Sixteen days after his accident, Rich came home. Because Rich was not able to stand or walk and at that point we had to transport him via ambulance, our first evaluation was over video conferencing. I still remember that very first program we received. I remember looking at the frequency and duration columns and thinking that the frequency referred to how many times per week an activity needed to be done. Surprise! That was how many times per day the activity needed to be done. At that stage of our life, we had 10 children at home, six of them we were homeschooling. “Doing program” was a big change. I (Kara) couldn’t implement all of it on my own alone. Other family members got involved and some of Rich‘s friends even helped him with program activities. Six months after starting his program, Rich was almost one hundred percent recovered. This is astonishing compared to most statistics about people who suffer from a TBI. 

We continued “doing program” with Rich for another six months and then he went back to working full-time and pursuing his life goals. He is now married, the father of seven, and part owner of a construction business. 

It was about a year later when I was in a crisis. Overwhelmed with seven children ages 16 to 4, all homeschooling, most struggling with academics, and feeling like we have been dealing with the same problems over and over without any long-term solutions. There was some overlap of problems between the children, but by far the worst challenge was our eight-year-old who I would later find out was what we call “stimmy.” For an entire year I tried to teach him to read using the “best” method and program available. We were still on lesson three. He showed zero comprehension. It was in the middle of the night and I was crying out to the Lord for some kind of solution when he brought to mind some of the activities that we had done with Rich after his accident. I wondered if NACD could help us. As I looked into it, it became very clear that NACD would not only help our eight-year-old, but it would be very beneficial for all the children. Some of the challenges that we have dealt with include what would have been labeled auditory processing disorders, dyslexia, hyper mobility, and eye tracking disorders. Each child’s particular mix of these was individual, but there was a lot of overlap between them. 

That’s when we may have set a record for the most children to begin NACD at the same time. We took an entire day of evaluations just for our family—Matthew, Harrison, Jonathan, Jackson, Gabriel, Josiah, and Maggie. 

At our first evaluation, I was convinced that we had wasted our money. Miss Ellen sat and talked to each of the children, gave them a couple of simple academic placement tests, and had them perform a series of activities. After all, I had given my children lots of placement tests. And what were those simple little activities supposed to tell her? The answer was—everything! I think I sat with an open mouth while Ellen gave in-depth insight into each of our children’s personalities and challenges. She was able to explain why the methods and programs that I was using were not the best for each child. And for the first time since beginning homeschooling, she offered answers to the problems that had plagued us. 

This time when I received our first programs, I knew that the frequency number meant how many times per day. I believe I spent the first three days after receiving the kids’ programs wondering, “how in the world are we going to get all this done?” How would we have survived without the practical suggestions of our NACD coach, BJ?

The first thing we did was pair older and younger children together. The two oldest and our adult daughter, Elizabeth, who was still at home, paired up with the three youngest and the fellows in the middle got me. Of course, I had to train the older three how to do the activities with the younger ones, and some of their activities I chose to do myself, but I believe that helping their younger siblings prepared them to be good parents in the future. I made checklists, put them on clipboards, and inspected what had been accomplished every day and every week. We went from being a “relaxed homeschool” family to being a very structured homeschool family. It was a big cultural shift. But it worked. One of the children went up four grade levels in reading in the first three months. We finally understood what was going on with our eight-year-old and we had strategies to use to address the underlying problems and, more importantly, to fix them. 

That’s one of the things that sets NACD apart from most “special needs” programs. The goal of NACD is to fix underlying problems rather than to teach strategies to accommodate problems. 

We had just gotten to the point that we felt like we might be able to back off a little from “doing program” so intensively all the time when, at the 20-week ultrasound, we found out that our new baby would be born with spina bifida. Spina bifida is a neural tube defect, and Patrick would be born with an already damaged spinal cord. His first surgery was 16 hours after he was born, his second when he was three weeks old. 

From the time we found out about Patrick’s diagnosis, we were in close contact with Ellen and Bob. As soon as Patrick recovered from surgery, we began program with him. Patrick’s program implementation is still a whole-family affair. His older brothers do most of the physical pieces with him. (Ironically, Patrick thinks that his “program” is only the physical activities that he does with his brothers. He doesn’t realize that all the sequencing, reading, math, and unit studies are part of his program, too.) 

When Patrick was two and a half, his little sister joined the family and became the tenth Murphy child (of twelve) to become an NACD kid. Truthfully, the earlier you start NACD with your little ones, the more fun it is. They learn so quickly and it is easy to accelerate their learning which makes learning even more fun. Our NACD programs also prevent certain problems from occurring and catch things earlier, which is a huge benefit in addressing issues. 

NACD has benefited our family in innumerable ways. After thirty years of homeschooling and our many years in the homeschooling community, we can’t recommend it highly enough.

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“Your son may not survive the night”, doctors told us soon after our son, Baran, our firstborn, was born in 2009. Baran had suffered moderate hypoxic ischemia at birth. What started as a healthy pregnancy ended with our son being deprived of oxygen for more than three minutes. Needless to say, my husband and I were in shock. Those are words no parent ever wants to hear. Thankfully, Baran made it through the night, but we would learn a few days later that in addition to suffering moderate brain damage, he also suffered a stroke. Doctors told us he had a significant chance of being physically and developmentally delayed. We were devasted. 

The months that followed included many PT sessions, then OT, and then speech therapy. At 18 months old, Baran was diagnosed with speech apraxia. This diagnosis began a seven-year commitment to speech therapy sessions three days a week. At this point, my husband and I decided that I should quit my career to stay home with Baran and our newborn daughter, Maya. We moved from Chicago to Columbus, Ohio to be near family. I knew we had a long road ahead of us, and we needed the support of family. 

The early elementary years for Baran involved many IEP meetings, more speech therapy and a diagnosis of moderate receptive/expressive delay, which made reading comprehension and writing very difficult for him. Every IEP meeting left me feeling hopeless. I worried about his future daily and began searching for ways to help him. In my research, I discovered a book titled “The Brain That Heals.” There were so many therapies described in this book that helped people with brain injuries and so many stories of hope. I continued to search various therapies and came across The Listening Program. This was my first entrée into NACD. I remember talking to Lori about TLP, and she encouraged me to join NACD’s program. At the time, I didn’t think I could ever home educate my child and actually implement some of the therapies he needed. I didn’t feel qualified to do any of that. I told Lori that we’d start with TLP. In just three short months of using TLP, Baran’s reading score on the standardized reading test increased from below range to average range. I was thrilled. We also incorporated Simply Smarter into our daily routine. 

Unfortunately, during Baran’s second grade year, he suffered a seizure for the first time, and a whole new set of challenged confronted us. At that point, I filled out the online forms to fully participate in NACD, but I was still unsure about being qualified to implement their program. Luckily, Pam in the main office nudged me a bit, and before I knew it, we had our first evaluation with Bob at the end of Baran’s second grade year. Bob was so encouraging. My husband and I left that evaluation filled with so much hope. This was in sharp contrast to leaving IEP meetings in tears and with a pit in my stomach. We got started on program right away the summer before Baran entered third grade. By the fall, he no longer qualified for math services because his test scores were too high. At the next IEP meeting, I felt empowered. I knew what my son needed to excel. Unfortunately, my goals for him didn’t align with what the school deemed he needed to be successful. I remember Bob saying to me, “Melissa, I think you would feel a weight lifted off your shoulders if you home-educate Baran.” One month later, Covid hit, and all classes were online. I started to see how ineffective traditional instruction was for Baran. By May, my husband and I decided that I would home-educate Baran and our daughter, Maya, who joined NACD in the summer of 2020. 

Being a part of NACD has been wonderful for our family. Their programs are more than just an education plan. This is a lifestyle. Sara and Bob remind my husband and I all the time to challenge our kids, to give them chores, to assign tasks that will lead to more independence. I remember a few years ago I had a friend visit me from San Francisco. She and I were up late talking so I took the liberty to sleep late the next day. The next morning, Baran and Maya were up with their alarms, unloaded the dishwasher, and made breakfast for themselves before I even came downstairs the next morning. My friend, an early riser, was in awe of their self-sufficiency and chores at ages 10 and 12. 

Our daughter Maya is a typical kid doing not-so-typical things. Over the past two years, we’ve been entertained by the plays she’s written, directed and acted in with the help of her neighborhood and homeschool friends. At one point, we had 22 adults sitting in lawn chairs in our driveway watching one of her plays being performed in our garage. She also started her own handmade greeting card business, Creative Cards, selling cards at children’s business fairs to raise money for a local dog shelter. NACD has encouraged us to let our kids explore their passions.

Our son, who doctors thought may never walk, found a passion in running cross-country. For three years he’s been participating in a local running company’s programs for kids his age. In 2024, he ran in our city’s annual 5k for a second time, this time coming in 40^th place out of 1,000 runners and 10^th in the under-19 age group. He also started taking drum lessons two years ago. At first, my husband and I were regretting our encouragement that he take up playing the drums. Our noisy household became even louder! But, two years later, we find ourselves really enjoying Baran’s jam sessions. Recently, he participated in his first concert onstage in front of an audience, and he joined a rock band with other musicians his age. He still struggles with reading comprehension and writing and seizures, but he’s finding his voice in music and keeping himself in great physical condition by running.

I still have days when I get frustrated and wonder if we’ll ever go beyond X numbers on digit spans or master a certain math concept. And then, Sara reminds me to look back at prior evaluations to see how far we’ve come!

Thank you, NACD, for helping us see the potential in our kids, despite their challenges, and for encouraging us, as parents, to encourage their independence and see that they are highly capable. 

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Back in May we introduced you to Coco Manole, the incredible little boy who was developing really fantastic processing abilities. This little brain injured/cerebral palsy four-year-old had developed astonishing digit spans of 10 forward and 9 reverse, which is absolutely phenomenal. Very few adults have short term and working memory at this level. Well, that was then and this is now. He was just getting started.

Just for the sake of perspective, shortly after starting program in July of 2016, Coco was just learning to process very simple one-step directions, such as “touch your nose” and was unable to follow a two-step direction. He was also only was able to say three words and understood no English.

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Video: One Step Directions

Coco today, not yet even having reached his fifth birthday, is doing much better. Coco’s improved processing has helped him in every aspect of his development. Developing motor skills for a brain injured/cerebral palsy child, from creeping on the hands and knees, to manipulating the hands to pick up food to feed oneself is much easier when they can take direction and think through and mentally manage all of the little pieces required to start learning and performing these apparently simple functions. The difference in developing motor skills in a child with good cognitive abilities vs. one with lower cognitive function is no different than trying to teach quantum mechanics to an individual with strong working memory compared to one without.

Coco is now amazing all of us with his extraordinary processing abilities. His forward digit span is now an amazing 16! His auditory reverse is now an unimaginable 13, and after just a couple of months since starting on visual digit spans, his visual digit span is already a 13!

Video: Auditory Forward 16

Video: Auditory Reverse 13

Video: Visual Digit Span 13

I hope that everyone will be inspired by little Coco. Although the majority of his day and program is dedicated to developing his motor function, we are certainly not ignoring his academic/intellectual development. Coco reads close to 500 words in Romania and English and enjoys reading books in spite of his visual issues, which we are addressing and improving as well. He understands addition and subtraction and identifies and labels literally thousands of items in some detail and is very conversational. In July when I met with the family in London for Coco’s evaluation, I had the privilege of having dinner with the family. Coco was not only totally tuned into our conversations, but was a polite active participant who could have served as a model for some college students I know. He is also perhaps the sweetest and most compassionate child you will ever meet and is doing great as a big brother to his little sister, Ellen.

I firmly believe that we all have the potential to function at incredible levels and our ability to fulfill this potential is only limited by our vision, our commitment, and our knowledge.

Lack of function is not a prognosis of what can be.

Congratulations, team Manole! You are an inspiration for us all.

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 32 No. 7, 2019 ©NACD

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Years ago, I saw a TV show on Discovery with an organization from England that transformed “typical” children into geniuses using programs close to what NACD is using. I was fascinated but frustrated because I believed that I would never have an opportunity to follow this type of program in Romania. After I registered my son in an NACD personalized program [NACD TDI Program] last year and saw how fast a brain-damaged child can learn to process information, I quickly understood that NACD was the key to success. My dream created by that TV show was about to come true. I read about Simply Smarter and registered immediately. When I first started the Simply Smarter program, I was processing 7 directions. Some studies show that “smart” people are able to process between 7 and 10. NACD said that if you are processing 10, you are doing very well. It has been more than one year since I started Simply Smarter and I can process 15-16 pieces of information at this point. This is huge, folks, very huge. I was in the dark a year ago. I started a discussion and after 2 minutes forgot where I was going with the conversation. I could not remember too many things, nor could I understand many important pieces of information because of my weak auditory processing. There are many of you out there in the same situation that I was experiencing. Now at a processing level of 15-16, things have changed so much. I can think, talk and learn faster, hear more, and write better. I have many good ideas. I can function better. I have improved my life and the life of my family also. I’ve started to remember things from my childhood, memories that I thought were lost!

Thinking gives you strength and you can achieve things that most people find impossible to achieve. For those of you who have children in NACD, you know what going from 7 to 16 means. For those of you who don’t know about NACD, let me try to explain it to you. It is like lifting weights. At the beginning, perhaps you can lift 10 kg. Then you start building your body and after one year you can lift 200 kg. In this case, however, you are building your intelligence which is so much more important. Much like those body builders who become addicted to growing muscle, I am addicted to building intelligence. I now am 36 years old and by the time I am 40 I want to process 25-30 pieces of information.

I love Simply Smarter and I will use it for the rest of my life. If you want to ask me questions about my experience with Simply Smarter, feel free to do so at roviancom@yahoo.com

—Razvan

P.S. My wife started Simply Smarter at a processing level of 8 last year. She can now process 20-21 pieces of information (However, I am still the boss in the house!).

The post Manole Family – A “Discovery” Leads to Success with NACD & Simply Smarter appeared first on NACD International | The National Association for Child Development.

Elliot was born with hypoplastic left heart syndrome (HLHS), which means that the left side of his heart, the side that receives oxygen-rich blood from the lungs and pumps it out to the body, was severely underdeveloped. In addition to this very severe heart defect, he also had a restricted atrial septum, which meant that he would most likely be born blue and need immediate surgery. Usually this abnormality is first seen in a prenatal ultrasound, and such was the case with us. We had three options: we could choose to abort Elliot, carry him to term and watch him die within the first few days of his life, or undergo a series of open-heart surgeries in an attempt to repair the defects.

After a lot of prayer and seeking counsel, we decided to give Elliot the best chance at life we could possibly offer. At the tender age of 6 days, Elliot survived his first, the riskiest, surgery. He stayed in the hospital for two long months. Elliot needed a lot of support to stay alive. His oxygen saturations were low and he had to be on oxygen all the time. Even on oxygen his saturations remained problematic. He was simply too weak to drink from a bottle, and each day was a choice of breathing over eating. To compound matters, he also had severe reflux and could hardly stomach any milk. So before we could leave the hospital after two months, Elliot had fundoplication surgery and a G-tube placed, which is a feeding tube placed through the wall of the stomach. The second open-heart operation took place when Elliot was 4 months old, and the third and final surgery was shortly after he turned two. This was the most trying time in our lives. Elliot was full of personality and life, but at the same time, he was often tired, weak, and short of breath; his muscle tone was floppy and he would very seldom look at me.

I was aware that in addition to ongoing serious health concerns, children who have had open-heart surgery as infants due to complex congenital heart defects are at a higher risk for neurodevelopmental issues, compared to children without congenital heart defects. However, as an experienced occupational therapist, I was determined to face my son’s challenges head on and began working with Elliot as soon as his condition stabilized. I tried various techniques, went to courses to learn more, and sought out the best doctors and therapists; yet, despite my efforts, Elliot was not doing well. I knew he could not see well, he had slow rolling and quick jerky nystagmus, and he really needed more oxygen. I tried everything I knew to help him to drink something by mouth, but he was simply too tired.

About the time that Elliot was one year old, I attended a child development seminar at The Institutes for the Achievement of Human Potential in Philadelphia and was intrigued by the idea of neuroplasticity. At the seminar, I learned some things that were helpful to Elliot, but I felt the Institutes’ methods were very dogmatic, regimented and limited, and were certainly not a good match for our family. They would also not answer any questions that I had after we left the course. I continued to search for something that could help Elliot’s specific challenges and unique needs and delays.

Somehow during one of my Internet searches I stumbled upon the NACD website. Soon after, I spoke to someone at the main office and decided to give NACD a try. I had an idea in my heart of what I was searching for, and during my conversation with someone at the office it seemed like they understood what we needed and expressed that they have helped children with similar needs to ours. I knew that no therapy or treatment could take away the diagnosis; but I believed that there had to be something that we could do to enable Elliot to overcome some of the obstacles that he faced. NACD seemed not to be taken aback by the multitude of issues that seemed completely overwhelming to me at times.

Implementing the NACD program has been a pretty straightforward process. Elliot’s evaluator, Bob, takes into consideration how much time I am realistically able to dedicate to working with Elliot and adjusts the activities accordingly. I appreciate that. As parents we are dedicated to helping our children achieve their potential, but the NACD program doesn’t have to consume our lives to the exclusion of everything else in order to attain change.
Elliot was three at his first NACD evaluation. After three years on program, he has achieved remarkable progress.

Children with HLHS often have diminished physical strength due to poor oxygenation of their organs, and Elliot is no exception. As a toddler, he could hardly run across the room without being out of breath. Now, after three years on program, Elliot still has problems with oxygen saturation; but due to all the physical strengthening we have done with NACD exercises, his ability to utilize the available oxygen has increased. From a very weak, very sick baby, Elliot has grown into a strong, healthy six-year-old. He runs on the treadmill twice a day for 15 minutes. At one of our recent cardiology appointments, the cardiologist commented on how well Elliot is doing. His words were, “You have taken a very medically complex child and changed him into a regular child.”

Many infants who spend a lot of time on a ventilator have trouble feeding because they have an aversion to anything placed in their mouths or because they are simply too tired to eat. Similarly, Elliot as a baby was also too weak to bottle-feed and needed a G-tube to keep him nourished. Right before he turned three, Elliott went through a behaviorally-based feeding program and was finally weaned off his G-tube. But he still despised eating and I dreaded every meal. Every bite and every sip was a battle. “Take your bite–1, 2, 3, 4, 5…” I wonder how many times I have said this phrase. Now, as his neurological organization improves, we are discovering that Elliot is starting to relish eating. When Elliot was a toddler, there were times that I would consider a meal a success when he ate a quarter of a Cheerio. Recently we had some of his Uncle Danny’s fare and this was his comment: “Man, that Uncle Danny is a genius! These ribs are so good, they can change my attitude!”

Before we began applying the NACD program, Elliot was extremely sensitive to noise, so much so that he would burst into tears at any unexpected sound and would be inconsolable for a long while. Just having people sing “Happy Birthday” at a birthday party and the subsequent hand clapping was difficult for Elliot. Fireworks were impossible. He would go to his room, close the door, and still cover his ears every time a firework went off. NACD’s TSI – Targeted Sound Intervention trained Elliot’s brain to process sound correctly. He doesn’t startle that easily in situations where there are unexpected loud sounds and, in fact, he even enjoys fireworks now! In some situations, however, such as crowded rooms, he still seems to be a little lost. Part of it is due to his reduced vision, part to his inability to hear everything that is directed toward him; but we are hopeful that the NACD program will resolve these issues as well.

Part of Elliot’s auditory issue is also not differentiating correctly between different sounds. For instance, for the longest time Elliot did not hear cars coming when he was on his bike or just walking with us in the street. Lately I have seen where Elliot’s awareness is increasing, to where he can hear cars coming or cars starting up. He still needs more healing in this area to be safe, but I am relieved to see it improving.

Elliot’s difficult start in life affected his vision as well. At seven months of age, Elliot started wearing glasses. They were +6 diopters at that point. With every year, his prescription became stronger and his vision deteriorated. At his last optometrist appointment, right before we saw NACD, he was prescribed +8 glasses for farsightedness. His vision tested at 20/100, which basically means that Elliot could see objects at 20 feet, which other people see at 100 feet. I became worried that he would go blind. Unlike the optometrists, whose only solution for Elliot’s worsening visual acuity was increasing the strength of his glasses, NACD recommended that we start working to develop his vision. We discovered that we were able to eliminate his glasses and really teach him to see.

With the NACD activities we were able to stimulate the vision centers in his brain and to build his ocular mechanisms, and gradually Elliot’s eyesight began to get better. Naturally, progress is always slower than what mom wants; but I can tell his vision is getting better because his functional ability to see is obviously stronger, and testing confirms that he is seeing better and better.

Elliot has been reading on the iPad, and for the last year, we have been able to gradually decrease the size of his reading font. This week Elliot is reading his first regular print book! The distance vision seems to be harder to improve, but even there we are seeing progress. Where at first Elliot did not notice anything at a distance, he now notices signs when we drive in the car. His newest game is to try and tell the gas price when we drive by a gas station. Sometimes he gets it right and sometimes not, but that is progress for a boy who was really completely unaware that there was a world out there.

Apart from the acuity issues, Elliot also had a significant nystagmus and a significant convergent strabismus. To read or see anything prior to NACD’s program, Elliot had to turn his head all the way to the left and tilt his chin up. These issues have not cleared up completely, but they are so much better. Elliot can look straight forward to read, watch TV, play iPad, and do Legos. His nystagmus has decreased tremendously and his convergent strabismus is much less. We are still working on these issues, but as long as we are progressing, we are confident that we are going in the right direction. So where Elliot was losing vision year after year before the NACD program, we are now gaining vision and no longer worrying about watching him go blind.

In addition to Elliot’s physical issues, we have also faced many challenges behaviorally. Overall behavior was a big stumbling block for us and there were times that it was extremely difficult to keep things positive. Elliot would sometimes lash out physically, and other times he would just passively refuse to cooperate. Elliot would also engage in repetitive actions, such as non-purposeful running back and forth. We had no idea why he is doing this or why it was so difficult to stop doing it. Bob explained that it was his vision sensory channel that was broken, that Elliot was playing with it when he was doing his repetitive running, and that he was continuing to further break that channel. In addition, Elliot did not really play appropriately. He would be in his own world many times and did not engage with toys or people as much as other children.

There were other behaviors that were disruptive to our family life. Many times Elliot would be so easily “set off” when a situation suddenly changed. For example we usually read a Bible story in his room before bed. But if we decided to do it in front of the fire because it was so nice and toasty, Elliot would be extremely upset. This made it difficult for the whole family, because we felt like we had to be pretty cautious to keep things the same.

Elliot and our family needed help in these areas to be able to make the changes that we needed to see in Elliot, and even just to keep our home a happy place. We worked very closely with Bob on getting Elliot’s behavior under control. First, NACD gave us a lot of direction, activities, and support to re-direct the repetitive behaviors and teach Elliot how to engage purposefully and eliminate the need for doing those behaviors. Also, in regard to Elliot’s need for routine and “same-ness,” our evaluator did not think that it was so strange at all! Bob explained that Elliot was a visualizer and that this was a strength. The problem that Elliot ran in to is that there was not a good balance between his visualizing and conceptualizing. In other words, Elliot was great about thinking of things in pictures and not good at all at thinking about things in words. Again, NACD had ways to work on this and it is amazing how well Elliot has improved in this area. We recently moved, and Elliot, instead of falling apart, was more ready to move than I was! He went with us one time to see the new house and said, “The other house got a little old,” and that was it! We moved…no tears, no drama…

To improve Elliot’s cooperation, we had to try a few things to get to a strategy that would work for him, and now his behavior looks remarkably different. It is not that Elliot does not get in trouble anymore…he certainly does; but it is about having the tools and the support for us as parents to know “when this happens, this is what we do” and stick to it. Knowing how to handle difficult behaviors, getting a firm plan in place, and being super consistent with following that plan has made a tremendous change for our household, and now I can see that child that I always knew was in there. In regard to his play skills and engagement, as we learned through NACD how to address his behavior and provide the needed structure and stimulation for Elliot, he is really coming out of his shell. He loves his little sister, enjoys play dates with friends, and initiates playing with all sorts of things, the favorite certainly being all things LEGO!

For someone who was expected to perform poorly due to his fragile medical state, Elliot is surely doing remarkably well academically, surpassing many of his typical peers. In addition to fluently communicating in English and Afrikaans, mom’s native language, Elliot tests at a sixth grade level in reading comprehension, sixth grade level in word recognition, and fifth grade level in math—all at the age of six!

Our work with NACD is far from being done; and yes, it is really hard work. But it is all worth it; even Elliot will tell you so. He knows he cannot see as well or hear as well, and is not as strong, as some of his friends; but he also knows that he has come a long, long way and that he is able to function, play, live, and interact at a totally different level than before. He also knows that he has great strengths that many of his friends do not have. He knows he has a great memory, reads fluently, and understands math at a higher level, and that he can play a mean piano!

The world is not always an easy place to live in. Even as adults with no issues, we know that life is hard work; that even for the strongest of us it is not always easy or fair. My take on why we keep going and working and pushing is that for our kids who may have a disability, or some kind of difficulty, life is not going to be easy either; and as a parent I need to equip my child to the best of both of our abilities to face life the best that he can. To me that means taking the weak parts and making them as strong as possible and taking the strong parts and making them even stronger. Elliot is not going to be a professional athlete, but he has plenty of other strengths that will set him apart. NACD has helped us to work on the weak and the strong parts, and for that I am so grateful.

I’ve been so impressed with what we have been able to accomplish under NACD’s guidance that I have been training under Bob Doman. I would love to bring the same kind of hope and knowledge to as many families as possible. I truly feel that this is my calling in life. Being an occupational therapist, I feel passionate about helping people already; but with NACD I now have the knowledge of how the brain changes and how to bring those changes about. I am so honored that I am able to come alongside parents and children and help them reach, to the best of our abilities, the potential that God has given each and every individual.

Praise be to God and many thanks to NACD.

NACD Newsletter, Volume 7 Issue 4, 2014 ©NACD

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Now what?

After a month in ICU and three months in a rehab facility, my son was finally home. Not having another option, my husband, riddled with guilt, went to work; I stayed home to care for Trevor—all alone, young, and inexperienced. I longed for my own mother, who lived a world away in South Africa, to come and take care of me. Trevor was alive, but just that. He could sit up with support and that was all he could do. My healthy, rambunctious baby was no more.

Trevor, at 14-months old, had slipped from his father’s arms and hit his head on the tile floor. All that happened next seemed as one indescribable, endless nightmare. Initially Trevor was given a 10% chance of survival; but if by some miracle he managed to pull through, the prognosis was that he would forever be in a vegetative state, wheelchair-bound, blind, silent, and kept alive with machinery. Although my heart was beating, I felt dead. It took five long days, intensifying the damage to Trevor’s brain, before the inter-cranial pressure receded enough for a ventriculostomy to be done. The neurosurgeon informed us that this procedure was by no means a “high card” and was at best the last desperate attempt to bring the ICPs down. Once he was stabilized, Trevor was taken off life support and, incredibly, was able to breathe on his own. But he wasn’t out of the woods yet. Each time he heard my voice, Trevor’s blood pressure and heart rate went through the roof, and he was put in a drug-induced, pentobarbital coma to give his brain rest.

For nine months after the accident we did conventional therapy with Trevor. We taught him to grasp, to swallow, and to sit up without help. But my soul was restless. The doctors and therapists told me not to make our home a therapy place—to let them, the experts, work with my child and hope for the best, but not much. Yet, I wanted to do more. After relentless hours of searching online I came upon The Institutes for the Achievement of Human Potential.

The week-long seminar at The Institutes in Philadelphia was held in an ice-cold auditorium packed with families seeking help for their loved ones. Like me, they had paid thousands of dollars in airfare, hotel, and registration fees to attend lectures on brain injury for 8 to 10 hours a day. I learned a lot, and for the first time I felt a glimmer of hope for Trevor. As part of the course at The Institutes, parents were required to submit a detailed history of their child. I found out once I was there that at the completion of the seminar parents were told to go home, to implement what they had learned, and to stay in touch. Occasionally, some were invited to bring their brain-injured children back for evaluation. I was one of the lucky ones—my 30-page report on Trevor was apparently detailed enough that we were chosen by The Institutes to bring Trevor in for a consultation. No other family in our group had that privilege bestowed upon them, and I felt a sense of pride that we were selected, as if my child and I were somehow extra special.

I was a mother who was willing to do whatever was necessary to make Trevor better. So I flew home, arranged for a relative to come along (as was required by The Institutes), and my husband and I took our severely brain-injured child on a cross-country trip back to Philadelphia. Once again we were subjected to more lectures training us for all kinds of injury, not just the type specific to Trevor. Meanwhile, our relative pushed Trevor from department to department for evaluation in different development areas. In the end, one of the staff members instructed us on how to implement the assigned program, provided us with all sorts of charts that periodically needed to be filled out and returned to The Institutes, and sent us home.

We soon discovered that The Institutes’ program was a tremendously intense seven-days-a-week commitment. They required that mom and dad were the only ones working with the child, and the program took every waking moment of Trevor’s day. Then, after he was in bed, one of us was busy preparing materials for the next day. The 10 hours-a-day program put a strain on our relationship and health, but we managed to somehow get everything done as assigned. Among other things, we did upwards of 80 masks a day, eight cross-patterning sessions, five categories of reading flashcards, and kept meticulous track of how many new words to introduce and what words to retire. We even brought Grandma and Grandpa from South Africa to assist with household responsibilities and for moral support. Eventually, we succeeded in getting Trevor to creep on his knees, but no matter how hard we tried, reading just did not take off. Perhaps because at that time he was functionally blind and a “reading” program was really pretend. Because we couldn’t teach our blind child to read for the 2 ½ years we were with The Institutes, Trevor was never invited to a follow-up evaluation. Instead, because I was desperate to learn about brain injury as much as possible, I attended further education lectures at The Institutes. We stayed in regular contact with our Institutes’ family advocate and diligently completed all of the assigned activities, but my optimism was waning.

Here we were with a son who, by The Institutes’ own words, had so much potential, yet they would not work with us only because he wasn’t able to read. I was frustrated and I was constantly on my knees. I just knew there had to be a way to help Trevor improve. Then one day, while searching online, I stumbled upon NACD’s website. While investigating, I discovered that Robert J. Doman, Jr.’s father and uncle had created The Institutes for the Achievement of Human Potential, but aside from sharing a common last name and dealing with neurodevelopment, the two Doman organizations were and still are dramatically different in their philosophies, methodologies, and execution. I also learned that Bob had never associated with The Institutes, nor did he accept The Institutes’ approaches.

It took me some time to contact NACD, as the Institutes strongly opposed seeking guidance elsewhere; but when I finally did, I felt a renewal of confidence. Right away I was put in touch with an NACD mom who turned out to be a great support to me in those first few months of transition. I was impressed and relieved that the NACD staff facilitated contact among their clients, while The Institutes had discouraged us from discussing with other parents about our experiences with Glenn Doman’s organization.

Unlike The Institutes, where we never saw Glenn Doman, Trevor’s first NACD evaluation in the fall of 2003 was conducted by Robert J. Doman, Jr., the director and founder of NACD. Bob didn’t promise an overnight “cure;” nonetheless his calm, even voice was like a balm to my troubled soul. Since NACD branches can be found across the United States and one was near us, we didn’t have to struggle with Trevor through airports. My son was more cooperative and relaxed as opposed to how he behaved at The Institutes, which made the NACD evaluation less stressful and more productive. At that first meeting with Bob, Trevor was essentially a baby at the age of five. He made very little eye contact and had slight cognitive understanding of what was going on around him. He babbled unintentional sounds, which we liked to think resembled “mom” and “dad,” clapped his little hands, banged his head repeatedly against the crib, and walked very unsteadily.

Gradually, with the implementation of the very realistic, doable, and individualized NACD program, Trevor’s coordination improved and his gate stabilized. As Trevor’s brain began to get organized, his vision also increased, despite the injury on the occipital lobe (which should have left him permanently blind). Trevor now sees, listens, and understands well and doesn’t give up easily when working on something difficult, like a new sound or a new word. He rides a tricycle at breakneck speeds, runs easily, and walks two miles at a time without tiring. His language grew from a few sounds to now four-word sentences. He is communicating his needs verbally, and conversations are now a realistic goal. This may not seem like much progress, until you look at his MRI—the black, fluid-filled spaces in his brain are so pervasive that where Trevor is today is truly a miracle. Before we started with NACD, the doctors recommended that we put Trevor in a home, to give up on him, because there would never be any functionality to his life. NACD not only gave us hope for something entirely different, it has delivered on the promise that allchildren, regardless of their condition or diagnosis, can accomplish more—if they are provided with the opportunity.

From the time of the initial communication with NACD, it was apparent that the differences between The Institutes and NACD were significant. As opposed to The Institutes’ practice to use exactly the same activities for all their clients during the last 50 years, our NACD evaluators draw from over 3000 techniques to adjust Trevor’s highly individualized program as needed, rejecting procedures that prove to be ineffective with Trevor and adding new methods in order to address his specific issues. Unlike the complicated activities assigned to us by The Institutes, each NACD program piece is simple to implement. The Institutes did not allow us to seek outside help with program; NACD encourages us to do it.

Being able to accept volunteers or hire helpers for Trevor’s program, as well as communicating closely with the evaluators about the smallest details of the program, has allowed us to have a more normal and fulfilling family life. Compared to the Institutes’ rigid and demanding schedule, the NACD program has been manageable to fit into our family dynamics. Our evaluators are careful to consult with us regarding the time we are able to dedicate to working with Trevor and recognize our desire to parent the rest of our children. All these factors have been vital in ensuring that progress for Trevor happens much quicker than anything we experienced while following The Institutes’ program. Amazingly, even 13 years post brain injury, big changes still continue to take place. For instance, Trevor’s language abilities have recently increased exponentially, quicker than at any other time thus far. In the last three months, Trevor has learned to pronounce /k/, /g/, and /w/ correctly and is diligently working on the /l/ sound. The NACD activities address Trevor’s specific brain damage and changed him from agitated and awkward to calm and happy, without an ounce of aggression—all devoid of drugs. He loves doing his NACD program; he is the happiest when he is actively engaged in learning and growing; and when Trevor is happy, we are all happy.

I am also very happy with the effect of the NACD program on my other two children, Troy and Ruby. Because her auditory processing is at 8 and her visual processing is at 10, six-year-old Ruby is like a miniature adult—clever, articulate, and capable of accomplishing tasks that a much older child would find challenging. She reads chapter books with impressive comprehension and competently does 3rd grade math. She is also great at working with Trevor, completing program with him, more skillfully and effectively than some adults. Troy is accelerated as well. His auditory processing is at 11 and visually he is processing at 13, which is reflected in his behavior and academics. At 11-years old, he is doing 8th grade math and reading at post-high school level. Recently we lost our helper, and implementing the NACD program in its entirety became a problem—until our NACD evaluator recommended that I train the younger children to do program with Trevor. So, for example, I would work with Troy while Ruby does some program activities with Trevor; then they switch and I work with Ruby while Troy does program with Trevor. When it is my turn with Trevor, Troy and Ruby do independent work, such as reading or listening to a recorded book. Although doing program in this way rarely leads to fulfilling 100% of Troy and Ruby’s assigned activities, they have not lost ground. In fact, just the opposite has occurred: in the three months that we’ve done this, Troy jumped forward a whole year academically!

It has definitely been a leap of faith to homeschool all three kids, but with the support of NACD we are doing a marvelous job indeed. After learning so much and seeing what NACD has done and continues to do for my brain-injured child, I couldn’t in good conscience send Ruby and Troy to a school. Their individualized NACD programs are helping them grow and learn at just the right pace. Troy and Ruby are proof that, as Bob says, “Under the direction of their parents, and with the assistance of NACD, typical children can become exceptional.” I am incredibly excited about what they will achieve next, and I am at peace knowing that working with my children is the most important job in the world; with each of them I am doing the right thing at the right time.

Brain injury is tragic and a hefty a price to pay for the knowledge I have gained about the human brain and child development. But sweet things have come from the pain and suffering. I am incredibly grateful that NACD is with me every step of the way as I continue to be an active participant in all my children’s future.

NACD Newsletter, Volume 6 Issue 6, 2013 ©NACD

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I was born to two dedicated parents whose care exceeded just addressing the needs of the present. Perhaps it was the hopelessness that theses loving parents felt that prompted care like this. After all, these parents also had a severely brain injured son named Evan. They had to look forward to the future, because focusing on what was lacking in the present was just too unbearable. So, rather than just focusing on the immediate needs of the day, these parents learned to look forward to what their sons’ would become, and they went to great lengths to make those plans a reality. This is why my parents chose a path for me full of hope: a path also known as the National Association for Child Development.

My journey along this path began in 1993, at the age of three, almost four years old. Even at this young age I still vaguely remember my first trip to an NACD evaluation site. My older brother Philip and I remained in the waiting room as my mom took Evan into another room. Every once and while my mom would poke her head out and ask if we were behaving, then she would return to the room where something was happening with Evan. After a while she emerged, carrying Evan, subtle signs of tears still on her face, with a large man in reading glasses following them. The large man with the reading glasses walked over to Philip and me, bent down so he was eye level with us, peered over the glasses, and said, “We are going to help your brother and so are you.” I remember thinking hard about this statement. What did he mean he was going to help my brother? What was wrong with my brother? What was he going to do to him? And above all, how was I supposed to help? This was to be the first of many thought provoking experiences involving NACD.

From here we jump ahead a few years to a time when I was old enough to be aware of the path I was on. Every morning I would wake up and get breakfast after which would be my time to work with my brother Evan, as my mom would be working with Philip. When the time came my mom would give me my assignments or list of exercises for the day, and then she would do a unit study with the three of us. After that she would work with Evan alone. During the day she would have us compete with digit spans, and there was a special song that we all sang when Evan would do well. After our data sheets were filled with check marks, it was time for her to do her volunteer work with NACD. Then once a month or so we would all travel to a church in a suburb of Dallas where my mom would do the program teaching for either Bob Doman or another of his evaluators. It is here that I discovered what exactly it was that we did. All of these games my mother had been playing with us were really activities, a form of home schooling. My mom was always really good about sneaking activities in without me being aware I was doing program. When most families play the license plate game on long car rides mine played Spell, Repeat and Identify and listened to books on tape. As time progressed our family got bigger and two babies a few years apart were added to my Mom’s 15-minute schedule that she had mapped out for all of us. There was always something to learn, or a sibling to be doing something with.

I began to make friends with the kids who came to be evaluated. I remember the Sheltons who had a daughter with cerebral palsy. They too had a large family that was all on program and a mom that volunteered for NACD. I remember meeting John Michel and Gabriel Fry, two gentle giants whose own magnificent parents later adopted another special needs child from Russia. These are the kind of people that I would meet; families that I thought of as pioneers of the NACD lifestyle. These families realized that the program held so much hope for their children that they wanted to spread this hope, and before long the word of mouth spread and more and more families were coming. Over the years I would watch these kids come through the doors, and I would sit and play with them as they waited to be seen by their evaluator.

It was also around this time that I began going with my mom to the home school book fairs she attended. I would sit and watch as droves of mothers and fathers would come up to our booth after my mom had spoken at a seminar. All these caring and loving parents said the exact same thing: “This is what we have been hoping and praying to find.” Soon I too would take on the inevitable enthusiasm for NACD.

At the age of 8 I started going over to another NACD kid’s house to help his mom with his program. In reality I was just there to teach him how to climb trees, rollerblade, and throw a baseball. The only difference was I did it with an NACD flair. The label he had been given was “Autistic Spectrum.” To me this only meant that he was just a little broken and needed help getting fixed. The hardest thing I ever had to do when working/playing with him was to get him to stop stimming long enough to throw the ball back to me. Getting him to catch the ball when I threw it to him was never hard because it is really hard to stim when a baseball is flying at you.

My own program was just as unique to me as any other NACD kids had been for them. When I was eight, my mom went to the University of Texas at Arlington and bought me an Anatomy and Physiology text book to study, just because I told her I wanted one and asked a few key questions. I remember studying the breakdown of the human body in detail. This was one of my own personal unit studies that has continued to this day. The part that always interested me the most was how little we knew about the brain and how little traditional methods were even trying to find out more about it at the time. This explained to me why the doctors my brother had seen in the beginning had told my parents he would never walk, talk or see. What did they know? I have had the pleasure of running 5K races with him, and immediately after finishing his first I got to hear him say, “Let’s call Bob.”

In my own school work I was always very independent. This is most likely because my mother had worked on getting my processing up early. From the time I learned to read there was no stopping me. Unless I was practicing baseball or doing program with Evan, I was reading. There is no limit to what a person can learn if they can read and comprehend what they are reading. My mom never used packaged curriculum, she just gave us our foundation and a love to learn. My granddad, a chemistry teacher, gave me some of his chemistry text books when I was about 11, and I found a real niche for myself; a field where you could do math and study science at the same time. At 14 I went into the local public high school on their ‘Distinguished Achievement Plan,’ which really meant I would get to have the good teachers. These teachers challenged me to use the knowledge I had learned in reading. I competed in academics and had a state ranking score on the Science UIL test. Perhaps this is the reason that my chemistry teacher recommended me for a position working in a lab at a chemical company.

Often I have listened to others talk about the challenges of having a son or daughter with special needs and the challenge of meeting the needs of all their children. Overcoming those obstacles only requires passion, drive, and the love that inspired those first two virtues. It is the overcoming of these obstacles that builds the platform for success. We never really sat and thought about it a lot; we just took the guidance that we were given and went to work with a smile to make it fun. Soon obstacles were falling by the wayside.

So where has this NACD path taken me and what part has it played in my life today? I think that one of the most important aspects of the contributions that NACD has played in my life is the mindset that nothing is impossible, or at least you will not know what IS possible unless you give it a well planned, all out attempt to conquer and prevail. I have seen and been a part of the one brother overcoming brain injury and another one who struggled with learning difficulties. I have been in the waiting room and watched as kids on NACD TDI programs rid themselves of label after label and were transformed into new and improved versions of great individuals. I have watched Bob, my mom, and other staff members step back and thoroughly analyze what they are doing. If it isn’t working well enough they contemplate how they can change it so that it does. Because my mom spent time getting my processing up, I was able to teach myself a good part of chemistry before I went into High School, which led to my High School Chemistry teacher recommending me for a job that places me years beyond the career path of my peers. In essence, Tennyson sums it up best: “I am a part of all that I have met.” Hopefully one day I will be able to use the knowledge I have gained to give back to those who have taught me such great life lessons.

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 22 No. 16, 2009 ©NACD

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Our story, which by no means is at its end, began in the mountains. To be specific the Transylvanian Mountains. During Christmas of 1990, a specific child was brought to our attention that was in desperate need of a family. Florin Valc, who later became our son Evan Waldeck, had spent the first two years of his life in a Romanian Orphanage, abandoned at birth. For those of you who are not familiar with the news coverage of the Romanian Orphans, severe and cruel depravation is an understatement. These children were left without attention in their beds all day, some of them tied to the slats to keep them still. They were malnourished, unclothed and never touched, held or loved. The bitter winters of Romania were often spent in nothing more than underpants in a non-heated room.

When we first heard of this, the overwhelming desire to offer more to a child set our journey in motion. A missionary friend of ours put us in contact with a Romanian pastor who lived in Dallas. Marin Tomulet, the pastor, had helped other families adopt children out of his homeland. He had relatives that still lived there who had assisted with several adoptions.

From the very first phone call we had with Marin, he told us of a specific child who was in a very dangerous situation. Florin had spent 2 years in the orphanage only to be taken out by his biological mother for reasons that we were certain pertained to child support or government assistance. Once she was turned down, she did not want the child and planned to return him or to adopt him out. We were told that the mother was harsh with the child but could not begin to imagine the fate that was in store for the precious child that we saw a picture of.

During the winter of 1991, times were very confusing. The Gulf War was in progress, so overseas phone lines were hard to come by. The Romanian government did not help either. Due to the negative press reports they were slowing down and stopping all adoptions. They began with orphanage adoptions and then voted on a law to stop private adoptions as well. For six months we tried desperately to accomplish an adoption by proxy to no avail. As we followed the news and fought time, we finally heard in June of 91 that private adoptions had stopped as well. Only by the grace of God did we find one person who offered hope. A Montana attorney that our social worker knew explained that a rumor he heard stated that “yes the law was passed, but the President of Romania had not signed it yet, although he planned to”. Only on an outside chance of the rumor being correct could we give it one last try.

Adoptions were to have stopped on June 1st, and on June 7th I boarded a plane for a far away country, all alone with no idea how I was going to accomplish this goal. We just knew that we had to give it our best shot. After arriving in Bucharest, the hard part started. All I needed to do was make it 7 hours into the interior of the country to a village called Tiush. Here I was to find Marin’s brother Daniel. I knew that Daniel lived near a bridge, drove a white van and could take me to the next village where Marin’s mother in law knew where to find the child.

If this sounded difficult to do, it was by no means the hard part of the trip. When arriving in Tiush, Daniel explained that the last time he had checked, the child had been taken to the hospital with pneumonia. If this had only been true, it would have been the good news. In reality the mother had made up this story to stop people from checking on the child.

Our next step was to go to Auid. There Daniel and I located Domnica, Marin’s mother-in-law, at church on Sunday night and she escorted us to the child’s home to inquire which hospital he was in. Nothing could have ever prepared me for what I was to experience. A young girl, about 7 years old, answered the door at the home. After a moment of inquiry she replied in Romanian and pointed to the next room. Daniel turned to me with a drained face and uttered “the child is dead”.

Quietly, in what seemed to be slow motion, we entered a small concrete two-room apartment. There the child had been set aside to be buried the next morning. I was still hoping for the best, praying they were wrong. As I picked up the broken little body, I realized there was a very shallow breathing pattern. My son, Evan, was unconscious, wrapped in layers of clothing and plastic. He had a wool cap on his head to hide the swelling. All of this clothing, in the middle of June only to hide the frail and broken body from others who might see him. As I took off the cap, what I found was a very enlarged head. All of his hair had fallen out due to mal-nutrition. He was covered in his own waste and had obviously been beaten and starved for weeks. He had cigarette burns all over his body and a hand imprint around his throat. Later CT scans and x-rays confirmed fourteen broken bones, two skull fractures and massive brain damage. Here in the region of Translyvania, we faced our first mountain.

Many different ups and downs occurred during the next 5 weeks that it took for me to get Evan home. The first of which was a trip to a physician, who through my interpreter explained “The child has a disease that is making his head explode. We must put nails in the head.” Looking back I am sure there must have been something lost in the translation, but my confidence that they could help him at that moment diminished. I would just have to wait until I got back to the medical technology of the USA.

To be very honest, this same feeling of hopelessness was only repeated later when very qualified physicians here in America saw Evan. Of course, the diagnosis was different. Basically, Evan’s damage was massive posttraumatic brain injury. There was really nothing that could be done for him medically. The first physician to give me the CT results said “What had been done to this child is appalling (as if I didn’t know). He will probably never walk, talk or see.”

Our family physician was a friend of ours and encouraged my husband and I to dismiss what we had been told. While he explained that the reading of the reports was correct, he couldn’t imagine that all this child had been through was for naught. He also cautioned me against a self-fulfilling prophecy. “If you expect nothing, that may be exactly what you get. The more you work with him the better” were wiser words. Work with him. Work with him? Okay, but exactly how do you do that?

Evan physically bounced back remarkably fast. In fact, we even had him standing and kind of walking in a short period of time. We sought out early intervention and were directed to the Commission for the Blind and a very impressive school in Dallas for visually impaired children.

This is where we were to receive services for the two school years. Three days a week, I would load up Evan and his two brothers Philip and Kenny and make the one-hour drive to Dallas. At the time Evan was about 3, Philip was 3 and a half and Kenny was 2. Here I would either sit working on a family quilt I was making or observe through a window as they worked with him, or take a drive to a local shopping center until his class was over. Evan also had home visits once a week. At the school he saw a Physical Therapist, an Occupational Therapist, an Orientation and Mobility Therapist, a Speech and Language Pathologist and a Special Education Teacher. His class consisted of 6 children and 6-7 adult therapist and aides. What more could we ask for in services? In services there was no stone uncovered. I wish I could say that Evan’s progress was proportionate to the services we received.

At the end of this time Evan’s mobility was awkward at best, he had virtually no language that was not parroted and he was functionally blind. I had really thought that Evan was much smarter than given credit. I had also seen so many articles about brain plasticity and how sometimes damaged areas could be bypassed. I kept asking if this would happen with Evan. I would usually get a very sweet smile and silence.

The people working with Evan were lovely. They truly loved the children in their care. I do not believe that they ever had anything but the very best of intentions. I just felt in my gut that there had to be more for this child. One wonderful thing about the Center we were attending was that it was free of charge. Due to grants and funding, families were spared the expense. Now I really wished this had not been the case. If we had been paying for the services that were provided it is possible that we would have explored other options sooner.

I had been planning on home schooling my other sons but the idea never occurred to me with Evan. Of course it would seem that he needed much more qualified professionals than myself. After all, my background was in Real Estate Land Development and Mortgage Finance. But, then I attended a home school book fair that just happened to have a workshop for special needs home schoolers.

I had been approaching a time of transition for Evan, another mountain to cross. His age was approaching too old for the school he was attending and the public school system was the next step.

Several issues brought me great concern. While I do not ever want to over protect or shelter, I do remember being a child. I also remember the cruelty directed towards children like Evan by other children. The thought of what it would be like was heartbreaking. Even adults had said awful things in his presence thinking, “He doesn’t know what I am saying, so rudeness is okay”.

At this home school workshop I heard other mothers speak of the problems they had seen in school. Not only did I not want this for my son, these mothers said that their children had actually done much better by bringing them home. The mothers who spoke had been to NACD, the National Academy for Child Development, and had special programs designed for their children that they could implement at home. I remember asking if they believed that a cortically blind child could be taught to see. One of the mothers smiled and said that the founder’s own son, diagnosed CVI, had learned to see. Well, this was good enough for me, as it probably would be for any mother.

You can imagine what happened when I went home to tell my husband. All we had to do was come up with the money for an evaluation. Mother’s of hurt children are very easy marks. Anything that could possibly help is considered a rainbow to be chased. But, fortunately NACD has a seminar on tape that explains in detail the premise behind the programs designed for the children. After listening intently to the tapes, my husband’s response was “This is the first thing we have heard that makes sense. This is what we need to do with Evan”.

Shortly after listening to the tapes, we were put on a waiting list for our appointment. I will never forget when the call came in. We were able to get the last slot available for several months.

At our appointment many things were brought together for us about Evan. So many of his sensory channels were operating incorrectly. He had no awareness of where he was in space, which effected his gross and fine motor development. He was easily distracted by noises due to the fact that he had auditory tonal processing problems. He had sequential processing problems that kept him from being able to put pieces together mentally. This issue held him back from being able to progress with receptive and expressive language. He had organic problems that kept the hemispheres of the brain from communicating and therefore stunting his development. As Evan was described to us, it was never in the manner of “too bad these things are broke” but rather “these things really need to be worked on and possibly fixed”. Of the greatest concern was the fact that at age 5 Evan’s auditory sequential processing was where it should be at about age 1.

Then the issue of vision came up. At the time my words were “To be honest, having a blind child is not that bad. Having a child who can not think is devastating.” It was silent for a moment and then Bob Doman, NACD’s founder, took a deep breath and said, Do not give up on vision yet. Unfortunately, 2 years have passed and during this time he has been taught to be blind, and additional atrophy of the brain is our worst enemy. I don’t know what we can get back but we have to give it our best shot.” My heart almost stopped. First at the hope of gaining any vision. Second at the thought that we had done the wrong thing for the last two years and had possibly caused him additional harm.

This is the beginning of our next mountain to climb. Needless to say, I have not touched a quilting needle since and many different interests have gone by the wayside. Amazing how some of the things I spent time on before can seem so shallow now. My life now is full to the brim with children. First and foremost are my 5 sons (we have had 2 sweet surprises since our story began), in addition to that, I am blessed to be involved in the lives of many families with hurt children.

We began Evan’s program in November of 93. It consisted of about 4 hours of numerous different exercises that lasted for only a few minutes at a time. The preface behind each and every exercise is that by giving VERY specific information to the brain in the exact right way and in the exact right time frame, new neuro-pathways are developed to create higher functioning. This sounds easy, but it has not been. But the hard days were in the beginning. Just like any life change, the adjustment period is the hardest. My obsessive nature did not help in this manner. I started with great determination and did 100% of our program 7 days a week. After about 2 months I decided to only do 50% on Sundays. I had a very nice call from the home office asking me what in the world I was doing. At first I misunderstood and began to justify, only to be cut off. The exact words were “You were never expected to do this much and especially not 7 days a week. At this pace you will never last.” I did some sole searching. I had already began to see great progress with Evan and he had improved in his auditory processing by over a year in only 2 months. So much time had been wasted before. But this is when I realized that the race I had to run was a marathon and not a sprint. If I ran too hard at the beginning I would never be able to finish.

At this time we also realized that many of the symptoms that our son Philip experienced that were classic ADHD/dyslexia could be helped as well through NACD. We did not have the money to afford a second child on the program so I began to volunteer for two reasons. One reason was that they offered volunteers credit towards the fees, and the other reason was to “cheat” and figure out what to do for Philip. Volunteering actually showed me how complex and individualized the programs were. Many kids with the same diagnosis and symptoms were given different programs since different underlying roots caused the symptoms. I realized very quickly that an evaluation was the best route for Philip. It actually took about a year and a half to help Philip eliminate his symptoms and actually become an accelerated student. Today, I have 5 sons program. Each is doing exceptionally well and loves having program as part of their lives.

Now back to Evan. During the first few months, his development exploded. He began to develop language skills, his gross and fine motor began to emerge and best of all there were glimmers of site beginning to ignite. I look back at the rate of improvement during this time and it is phenomenal. Everyone around us noticed the big differences and I was convinced that at this rate, he would be entering college at age 12. This also began the ups and downs of the mountains we climbed. Several times we seemed to stall out or reach a plateau. I could have stopped at any of these points had I not been actively involved with NACD first as a volunteer and now as a staff member. There was something about seeing other kids progress during the times that Evan slowed down that kept me realizing it was just a matter of building more connections between brain cells and stronger neuro-pathways.

I have watched clients and very dear friends get to a point after a few months or years on the program where they stop because they believe they have gotten all they will get or because they want to go on the next popular therapy. Unfortunately this is typically where the development stops. This does not diminish the preciousness of the individual child, but it is sad to wonder “what if?”

You may wonder where Evan is today. Is he still brain-injured? Yes, he is, but the wonderful thing is that most of the time people don’t realize it until they spend a good amount of time with him. He really struggles with academics and we are always having to come up with the missing pieces to gain more development. A few times we have gained an edge with outside sources such as some very good supplements but for the most part, only an edge. The development continues to come out of hard work. His brothers and I split up the work and make it fun. We figure that lemon aide is more fun than lemons. Often people ask, “will you always HAVE to do this?” With the changes it has brought in his life my response is “just try and stop me”. We also get asked, “where is he exactly”? Our response is always the same “going forward”. Some people push and ask “but what will he be able to do?“ We just smile and say “continue to go forward”. A few really stubborn, or dense, people will ask “but what are his limitations?” To this the answer is “he passed them years ago”.

Today, Evan’s mobility and structure are beautiful to watch. Conversationally, he will talk your ear off. He has a witty sense of humor and loves to tease. He can also follow conversations that are not memorized. Evan sees well enough to travel without any assistance. He can identify pictures and shoot basketballs like you wouldn’t believe. We just recently took a family vacation to Colorado. We were insane enough to take all of the kids on a breath-taking hike across the Continental Divide. To understand the depth of our insanity, we had Evan (10 and visually impaired), Philip (11), Kenny (9), Jason (4) and the new baby Grant (4 months) in a back pack. The trip was wonderful. Evan was a little slow at first but ended up completely independent and leading me out along the trail. In fact as we got back to the van and we were all exhausted, Evan smiled and exclaimed “Let’s do it again with a timer to see how fast we can make it.” For this the reward was to make a trip to the local souvenir shop to pick out the very best T-shirt for him. Without a doubt we chose a shirt which described his journey perfectly. It boldly said “Fear NO Mountain”.

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 14 No. 1, 2001 ©NACD

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Three years ago I was attending a home school convention searching for guidance for our two year old son. After going to the session on NACD and hearing from some parents involved in the program my husband and I sought references and listened to Mr. Doman’s seminar tapes. We then decided to get involved and have seen Mr. Doman just four times. Some wonderful things have happened in the last ten months. We have been truly blessed by our involvement with NACD. I want to share our story so others may benefit as we have.

Before our son Joshua was born he suffered a brain hemorrhage and was not receiving the proper nutrition from me because of complications. At birth he was under weight, having seizures and brain damage had resulted from the hemorrhage. While in the hospital we were given a very negative picture of Joshua’s future. We were told of all the wonderful programs in our community for special needs kids and how we should check into them as soon as possible.

As we began to make decisions about Joshua some concerns arose. Because we were home schooling our three other children we wanted the same for Joshua, if possible. We did not want a label put on our son, no limits set on him, or have him placed in a program where we had little say or control. We wanted to be the key people in his developmental programs. Our main concern was to help Joshua reach his potential, whatever it may be. As it turned out, these were some of the things that are part of NACD’s philosophy. We were overjoyed!

Over the first two years of Joshua’s life we saw many specialists. A question that always came up was, “Is he in a program yet?” My response was always, “No, we are going to wait.” He began private physical therapy at four months old, and I have a therapy background so I felt adequate to provide what Joshua needed. When Joshua was nearing two years old I began to feel like some of the pieces were missing, not all areas of his development were being covered. I was providing random stimulation for him but not the specific stimulation he needed. At this point we heard about NACD and let me tell you it was an answer to prayer! If you are feeling some of the same things I was, let me encourage you by saying that NACD may be a great alternative to providing some answers and giving you the direction you are seeking.

Joshua, who is now five, has made great progress these past three years in all areas of his development tactile, auditory, visual, manual, mobility and language. I would like to give you an overview of where Joshua was before NACD and the progress he has made because of the program set up by Bob Doman and carried out at home.

Joshua was a child who was totally unaware of the left side of his body; he had difficulty handling different stimulation on his body and in his environment, being easily overwhelmed; he did not like different textures of food to eat or his teeth brushed; and he frequently choked on many things he attempted to eat. Joshua is now very aware of the left side of his body and uses it in his daily activity; he handles different stimulation on and around him much more easily and appropriately; and he eats all different kinds of food and has no problem with choking (which is evidenced when he tips the scale at 50 pounds!).

Joshua’s hearing was said to be “normal” but as he grew we noticed that he was easily overwhelmed by high acoustics and sudden, loud noises. He also did not seem to be able to process all that he was hearing. NACD did a voice print analysis on Joshua and found out that he was hearing too much of some sounds, while hearing very little or none of others. As a result of this wide range, Joshua was processing only one third of all the auditory stimulation around him! We decided then to have Auditory Enhancement Training done last summer by NACD and the results were unbelievable. This simple ten day retraining of his hearing changed Joshua’s peaks and valleys of auditory processing to a nice straight line, which meant he was now hearing the way he should be. Joshua’s vocabulary has skyrocketed along with many other improvements in other areas of his development.

Joshua also experienced many visual problems because the brain hemorrhage had caused optic nerve damage. He was experiencing cortical blindness (the brain wasn’t telling the eyes to see), uncontrolled horizontal movements of the eyes, crossing of the left eye, and minimal central vision. He was not using his vision well at all and compensating as well as he could. Because of various visual exercises and activities Joshua’s visual skills have greatly improved. He is now seeing long distances as well as small objects up close, his eye movements are controlled and they are working better together. As a result of the improvements in his vision, other areas of development have been greatly enhanced.

Joshua’s manual ability was very limited. He used his right arm and hand only, with a crude grasp (used all his fingers to pick up objects) and no opposition (pincer grasp), and his activities and play were very limited. He is now able to use his left arm and hand to assist his right hand; has right hand opposition and is now developing it in his left hand; is playing with many more toys and participating in many more activities; and is assisting in dressing, hygiene and is feeding himself with minimal help.

Joshua was a child who was not mobile at all. We never thought that he would crawl or walk or be independent in this area. He had very weak trunk muscles and could barely prop up on his elbows. He could go from lying to sitting with much effort and once in sitting he would fall. We carried him everywhere. I’ll never forget when we started with NACD and Bob said next time he saw Joshua that he would be cross-pattern creeping. My husband and I looked at each other in disbelief. The next three months we worked on various things and then we went back to see Bob. He put Joshua up on all fours and gave him some support under the chest and away Joshua went across the room! I cried tears of joy. And that was just the beginning. He is now independently mobile except for difficult terrain and his walking speed and endurance is improving, walking up to three fourths of a mile. He is mastering the stairs now, riding a tricycle, kicking a ball, turning somersaults, getting in and out of bed and furniture, going down slides and on and on.

Besides all the other difficulties Joshua was experiencing, he was also very limited in his language skills. He could not communicate his wants, would tell me of his dislikes only by crying, had very few verbal skills, would imitate very little, and follow only a few one word commands. Joshua’s vocabulary is now up to at least one hundred to two hundred words, and he is attempting many more with new words being added to his vocabulary almost daily, with his articulation showing great improvement. He is beginning to use three to four word phrases, and is understanding even much more than he can verbally communicate. He is counting, saying the alphabet and letter sounds. He can tell us colors, months, some of the books of the Bible, and identify many pictures. He enjoys picture books, singing many songs, and is also applying his verbal skills to many varied situations.

As is evident, Joshua has progressed by leaps and bounds these past three years with God’s help and the guidance of NACD. The specialists and professionals are now saying, “Good job,” and not asking as many questions about special programs and therapies. There were times when professionals would not suggest any interventions and say to just wait and see or would suggest things contrary to progressive neurological development. Mr. Doman has observed things about Joshua that others did not and has been very helpful in guiding Joshua’s program and providing proper intervention that has made all the difference.

There are many advantages that NACD provides. Each appointment time you bring your list of questions, from very simple to major concerns, and you will leave with a list of answers, a specific plan of intervention and will be looking for specific results. Your plan will be individualized according to your child’s specific needs and can be flexible with your family’s schedule. I will not deny that it is hard work and takes some sacrifice and perseverance but when you see results it is well worth it! The involvement in Joshua’s program has drawn our family closer together. NACD has always portrayed a positive attitude toward our son and his future.

NACD comes highly recommended by our family. We now feel Joshua will reach his full potential, whatever that may be. We plan to use NACD for a long time. It has truly been a blessing to us. I hope it will be for you too.

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 10 No. 9, 1996 ©NACD

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An acquaintance at the hospital invited me to a Head Injury Alliance meeting, to which I went, reluctantly, and there was Joan Burns, as a guest speaker, telling about NACD! It was very exciting to hear about others with the same or similar problems and about the things they were learning to do.

After 5 months in the hospital, with little or no progress, Jeff was placed in a nursing home. Now the stimulation here consisted of about 2 minutes of touching and talking every 2 hours while being turned. And maybe the nurse would talk to him while feeding him once every 4 hours.

Then I attended a local meeting of NACD parents and told of my plight. Joan Burns and her daughters, Mary and Sue, volunteered to work with Jeff. I recruited some friends and neighbors and in April we started with a daily 2 hour program consisting of tactile, sounds and smells.

In a few weeks the empty look was gone from his face and though he couldn’t tell me or respond to me I knew that he knew I was there. In September of 1983, on the very day of Bob Doman’s first seminar in Michigan, his trach was removed and he began to eat. In November I brought him home, and continued the things we had been doing.

In March of 1984 when our very own branch of NACD opened here, we were there getting an evaluation and our own program. He has improved to the point where he is eating ground food instead of pureed or baby food. He is moving a lot, holding up his head and beginning to see.

I had hoped for more progress, but we only have volunteers once a day and his program should be done four times. Even though he doesn’t get his program 100% and his progress is slow, at least there is progress.

Thanks to NACD, Dr. Bob, Bob Jr., all the fantastic people in the organization and the volunteers who help us each day, all is not lost and there is hope for a future after all.

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 10 No. 9, 1996 ©NACD

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