by Sara Erling M.ED.

“Program has been a part of my life for as long as I can remember. For many years, the focus was primarily on addressing my physical, visual, and processing abilities. Despite ongoing physical and visual challenges, by the time I got through high school and into college, I had a solid foundation for academic success. My program has always been tailored to address my specific needs at any given point in time.

Being on an NACD program has made me very self-aware and has given me the self-knowledge necessary to effectively advocate for myself. Ultimately, it has provided me with a foundation I can build on for the rest of my life. I will be forever grateful to everyone at NACD for helping me grow into the young woman I am today.” – Sarah Benedix

Sarah was a preemie, had been diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy, right hemiparesis, and strabismus, and she was fed through a G-tube. When she was a baby, her parents came to NACD, as they were determined to help Sarah reach her fullest potential. I first started working with Sarah back in the early 2000s when I started traveling to Chicago to conduct the evaluations there. She was around six years old and had beautiful blonde braids with big blue eyes. She was already quite smart and witty at that time! When I stopped traveling as much to have my own babies, she started working with Ellen Doman. Fourteen years later, I was able to increase my travel again and returned to the Chicago evaluation site. It made me feel very old to work with Sarah again, as she was no longer the little girl in pigtails, but an accomplished young woman! What a transformation!

Over the years of being on an NACD program, Sarah’s parents worked very hard to develop her ability to walk, to eat, to use her eyes together, her fine motor development, her ability to communicate, and to think (cognition). As many parents of children with CP often face, working with muscles, tendons, and structural issues is not an easy task. However, if we simultaneously work to build a child’s cognition, it makes working with their bodies and physical development significantly easier. Because Sarah’s processing and global cognition was really high, it was, and still is, much easier for her to understand how to place her body, how to direct her movements, and how and why she needed to work on certain muscle groups. Sarah can walk well, run, do yoga, and really enjoys bike riding. Sarah could be taught how to do certain exercises by herself to assist in her gait and could understand how to do them correctly through verbal cues. In her words, she is very self aware.

Over the past 20+ years of being a part of our organization, Sarah has blown us away with her accomplishments. She received a Masters degree in Sports Administration from Valparaiso University in August 2019. She graduated in May of 2021 with her SECOND Masters Degree in Disability Services in Higher Education from CUNY School of Professional Studies. With this degree, Sarah hopes to “advocate for other students with disabilities in the future.” She is ready to fly. Sarah, we are all so very proud of you and feel blessed to have watched you grow into one pretty cool human!

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Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 34 No.6, 2021 ©NACD

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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

The post Coco the Wonder Boy – Part 2A appeared first on NACD International | The National Association for Child Development.

When Michael and Mark were born 3 1/2 months prematurely, no one expected they would live through the day*. But they were fighters, and despite several setbacks they came home from the hospital at 3 months old, which was 3 weeks before their due date. Yet, I soon began noticing developmental delays; and when the boys were 15-months-old, they were diagnosed with Cerebral Palsy (CP). Michael, the doctors told me, would probably have learning disabilities, and Mark would fare far worse—the best that could be anticipated for him would be learning disabilities, but most likely he would be “mentally retarded,” and neither of them would ever walk.

Soon after the diagnosis, we began traditional therapy and the boys made some progress. However, despite the good intentions of those who worked with my children, I could tell that only the symptoms of CP were being treated, not the brain injury itself. As a nurse, I knew that if my little boys were to have a chance at a normal life, the root of the problem needed to be addressed. The NACD did exactly that.

The boys were three years old when we began the NACD program. Deficits in sensory abilities are common in CP, and our boys were no exception. Neither one could feel things normally—they had limited feeling in some areas and hypersensitivity in others. They were also hypersensitive to sound, and loud noise and music caused them a great discomfort; they would cover their ears and cringe. So their individualized programs included targeted neurodevelopmental and sensory-motor activities which helped stimulate the development of new neural pathways.

Initially, the boys’ sensory dysfunction was such that they had difficulty tolerating some of the activities; but with time they adjusted to the various forms of tactile stimulation and later even began asking for it. Eventually, Mark and Michael acquired a much more normal awareness and feeling. An example of this development is the “case of the eyelash.” One day I noticed an eyelash in Mark’s eye. It was black against white, but his eye never registered it as a foreign object. Then, several years later, Mark came in from outside rubbing his eye, his eye all red, asking me to get this “thing” out of his eye. I never did find the “thing,” as I’m sure he flushed it out with tears, but I was thrilled! His brain was finally properly processing foreign objects in his eyes.

The doctors and therapists had told us that the boys would never walk and wanted them to use wheelchairs; but knowing that unused muscles atrophy, we refused the wheelchairs and worked on preparing their brains for walking. Mark was already crawling when we saw Bob, but Michael wasn’t. We began teaching the boys to crawl in a serialized pattern, and later did cross patterned walk, over and over again, with an overhead ladder. When Mark took his first independent steps across the room, I screamed with joy so loudly that I scared him!

I am the first to say that this has not been an easy road. We worked on the NACD program with Michael and Mark and home-schooled all four of our boys. John was a year older and Tim was four years younger. Although our friends and relatives were generally supportive, some urged us to put the children in public school in order to get free therapy so that I wouldn’t have to work so hard. When the boys were in third grade we did just that for the purpose of me “getting a break.” I quickly realized that our goals for the boys were different than the school’s. For example, the goal of Michael’s physical therapy at the school was for him to get in and out of the wheelchair and safely maneuver through doors, not to build him up to walk. We ended up pulling the boys out of school within two months because the experience was so negative. Yet, it was an invaluable training for me. I witnessed firsthand that just because something is free does not mean that it is good. Truth was I could do more brain changing and capacity building at home in one day than the school could do in more than a week. I also saw that the school’s philosophy was to create an environment in which my children could function; but the NACD offered to change my boys and teach them how to function in any environment.

And the boys changed. Even though they had identical diagnoses, their NACD programs were very distinct and highly individualized. Each program piece—processing, academic, and physical—worked together toward increased brain capacity. At times Mark and Michael made huge progress in short periods, and other times they seemed to make no improvement at all. But as we persevered over the years we continued to see constant growth and significant brain change that went above and beyond what anyone ever expected. Now, at 23, they are accomplishing amazing things.

At home Michael can now walk independently, but still needs a walker outside of the house. He is finishing the requirements for a high school diploma through an online program and is earning excellent grades in his classes while doing all work entirely on his own, except for some tutoring in math and typing in English.
Mark has been walking without assistance since he was seven. He obtained his GED and then graduated from a local technical school with a certificate in Digital Audio Production and earned a 4.0. Currently, he is finishing an associate’s degree in general studies at Valencia College and in the fall will be transferring to the University of Central Florida to complete a bachelor’s degree. The only accommodation Mark has in college is that he is given an extra half hour during tests because it takes him longer to write his answers, and he sits in the front of the class. Even though as an infant he was diagnosed with Retinopathy of Prematurity and was considered legally blind in one eye, his vision has continued to improve throughout his life on program, and he now reads and functions very well. Mark comments that his NACD visual activities have paid off and that his vision is still improving.

Both young men are incredibly independent, and thanks to their years of NACD cognitive activities, they can reason through complex problems and situations. Their high processing abilities (Michael’s auditory digit span is 10-11 and Mark’s is 11-12) have even helped overcome some of their physical weaknesses—it is easier to remember a lecture, for example, than to take notes in class. Michael and Mark also have goals for the future which include living on their own and having careers. Several years ago, they had a taste of living without mom and dad. Because they can cook and clean and have been doing their own laundry since they were twelve, spending six weeks alone at home wasn’t a problem. Mark is training to be a sports broadcaster, and Michael wants to design video games without violence, sexual content, and objectionable language.

Working with the NACD has definitely been a great choice for our family. The NACD has empowered us as parents with skills, knowledge, and resources to help Michael and Mark achieve far more than what was expected of them because of their diagnosis. Our experience with the NACD has not only assisted us with our sons, but with our international missionary work as well. We have been able to use NACD’s processing activities and Simply Smarter program to help children and adults all over the world. We thank our Lord Jesus for Bob and his team for the major part they have played in our lives!

*For a detailed account of the beginning of our NACD journey, please click here.

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 26 No. 2, 2013 ©NACD

The post Twenty Years Later appeared first on NACD International | The National Association for Child Development.

I remember so clearly the first time someone said that Justin had cerebral palsy. It was over the phone, not even to my face. She said, Don’t be upset, Mrs. Johnson, your son has cerebral palsy. When he was six-months-old, I read an article in a women’s magazine which described a child whose abilities, or lack there of, matched Justin’s perfectly. I knew what it was, but every time I said the words out loud, those around me became very uncomfortable, so I, like them, tried to deny what I knew to be true. Now, after ten months of begging for answers, I was given the diagnosis, the dreaded words, the life sentence. It was the most excruciating pain I have ever felt in my life, and I believe that nothing else will ever hurt me as much as those two words. So I threw up for two days.

So I did next what I believe everyone does. I took Justin back to my pediatrician, and told her what the neurologist had said. Her casual reaction to this diagnosis was unbelievable, as she calmly explained to me that cerebral palsy is a general term used for many things, and that I shouldn’t worry too much about it. Now, at that time, I was no expert, but I do remember replying to her that, while those words may not mean much to her, I was well aware that it meant that Justin had damage to the motor areas of the brain. By this time, I knew that any doctor who was either unable or unwilling to spot severe brain damage in my son was to be of no use to me in his recovery, so I left and never returned.

So, I did what the neurologist suggested: I began taking Justin to physical therapy twice a week. Each time, I watched the therapist manipulate Justin in the center of an open room, trying to get him to stand up, drape his body over a large plastic ball and tickle him so that he might do sit-ups off the ball, and other maneuvers which made little sense to me. All of this occurred with a child who was incapable of lifting his head. Anyway, I watched like a hawk, searching for that change in Justin which would validate the success of the therapy. It never came. During one visit to this therapist, I mentioned to her that Justin’s eyes rolled around in his head from time to time, and she commented that it would be interesting to find out what was causing that. Another time, she told my mother that if Justin ever walked at all, which she did not anticipate, it would only be with a walker. I was livid. All this time, I thought her goals were the same as mine; I was looking for the total cure, and realized that she never even considered that as an option. This therapist obviously had no answers for Justin; it was up to me.

I began researching. First, I scoured bookstores, buying any book which even contained a single mention of cerebral palsy. Then luck intervened. I met a mother who knew of NACD. She told me that Bob Doman came to Scottsdale every three months to evaluate children. I got an appointment that day. I told Justin’s therapist of my plans, and she told me that I was not accepting the reality of the situation, that this program would ruin my son. To this day, I believe that nothing is more damaging to an individual than prolonged lack of oxygen, and that her prognosis was not the ultimate truth. In fact, she was not accepting the reality very gracefully. So, Justin and I left.

Justin was 18-months-old when I took him to Bob Doman for the first time. He was cortically blind, with pupils barely responding to light, was unable to hold up his own head, and was so stiff that he used his right hand and arm to propel his body in order to roll from front to back, his only movement. And, he was unable to talk. However, he was beautiful, blond-haired with green eyes, had a contagious smile, and was so delightful to be with. I was happy he belonged to me. From the first evaluation on, Bob treated both Justin and me with courtesy and respect. He made no promises, only explained what helped based on his experiences, and how to do it. Justin’s first program took eight hours each day to complete, included vision therapy, physical therapy, patterning, taste and smell experiences, and much more I have by now forgotten. Fortunately, my family helped, as my husband had left right after Justin’s birth.

Two weeks after starting the program, I thought I was hallucinating, when, I saw Justin creep across the mattress of his crib. And then he did it again! That was the second most memorable day of my life.

At this time, I was involved in a malpractice suit, which resulted in other examinations for the purpose of the litigation. During one of these meetings, I was informed that my son was not only physically challenged, but mentally as well. This made little sense to me, as I knew he understood me, but the pain was once again immense. The next specialist explained to me that Justin was deaf. I knew this was wrong, because he was able to hear me tip toe on the carpeting when I checked on him in his crib. Fortunately, the next time we visited Bob, I mentioned these conditions, and Bob explained that Justin was, in fact, not deaf or mentally retarded. His hearing was hyperacute, which meant that Justin could hear the garage door down the street close. He also had above normal intelligence.

At this time, Justin is 13 years old and is going into the seventh grade in three weeks at the local middle school. Although he is one grade behind his chronological peers, he has had less years of schooling than they, having entered public school at age eight, he never attended kindergarten, first, or second grade. Justin is in the National Junior Honor Society, sings in the chorus, loves computers, and is a total sports nut. He is getting close to independent walking, and wants to play some sport in high school. At this time, I have no reason to doubt that possibility. He still does some vision therapy, although he reads quite well, there are some minor convergence issues to complete. He also has some fine motor skills to work on. Four days each week, Justin works out at the local gym with a personal trainer and former competitive bodybuilder (named Tom Martinelli) and loves pumping iron. He is very social and confident of himself and his future. I will never be able to thank Bob enough for what he has done and continues to do for Justin. In return, I try to share with parents who have children like Justin the notion that the prognosis for children with a diagnosis like cerebral palsy is what we as parents make it. All our children need is the opportunity for a normal life. That’s what Justin got from Bob: the opportunity. What I want for Justin is no different now than it was before he was born: the chance to be whatever he wants to be.

Because of Bob, Justin is getting that chance. I used to begin my explanation of Justin’s condition with the following quote. “Imagine that your child has just been diagnosed with a condition for which there is no cure and no one is looking.” That’s what it’s like in the world of conventional therapy. Bob Doman, however, is looking. That’s why he is different, and that’s why I continue to take Justin to him.

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 10 No. 11, 1996 ©NACD

Click here for an update on Justin.

The post Cerebral Palsy: “Justin” appeared first on NACD International | The National Association for Child Development.

Our story begins on January 4, 1990, when I delivered two beautiful boys, 3 months premature. At birth, Michael and Mark weighed 1 pound, 12 ounces, and 1 pound, 12 ounces, respectively. The boys were given a 10-15% chance of survival. Michael and Mark are now five years old. They also have a six-year-old brother, Johnny, and a 15-month-old brother, Timothy.

During their first weeks of life, Michael and Mark surpassed all the statistical norms for preemies. They made incredible strides despite a series of setbacks. One was Mark’s lung problem. The doctors expected him to die but within three days, God miraculously healed him. Another setback was an eye problem for Mark that had the potential of causing total blindness. He underwent a special procedure that solved the problem.

The boys came home from the hospital when they were three months old, three weeks before their due date. This was unheard of and we rejoiced, but reality set in all too soon. We were exhausted trying to care for the twins and their 20-month-old brother. Yet the boys were remarkably healthy. In fact, when I questioned our doctors about the boys’ developmental delays, they always encouraged me with, “Give them time. They’re 25 week babies and they’re SO healthy.” Besides, there were no other children like them to make a comparison. Normally twenty-five-weekers don’t live.

At 14 months, I noticed that Michael seemed more stiff than a normal baby. At their 15 month appointment, I mentioned it to the doctor and after taking a closer look, he diagnosed both boys with cerebral palsy. CP is a form of brain injury caused by oxygen deprivation. It affects motor skills: gross motor such as walking, fine motor such as hand coordination, and speech motor such as articulation.

The doctors encouraged us saying that the boys probably had a mild form of CP since it had not been detected earlier. What they didn’t explain was that if the boys didn’t make progress, then what now seemed minor at 15 months, would become major at 3 years. Plus, the rest of the prognosis was grim. Michael would probably have learning disabilities and the best we could hope for in Mark would be learning disabilities. He would probably be mentally retarded. (Since then it has become obvious that if anything, they are both above average. But at the time, it was a hard pill to swallow.) After we came around, all we could think was, “Just tell me what our next step is. What can we do to help these little guys?”

We began with physical and occupational therapists coming to our home once a week. This lasted for a while and then we moved to Orlando. Here, we tapped into some resources that provided physical, occupational, and speech therapy. The boys made some progress.

A few months later the physical therapist wanted to cast Michael’s legs to prevent contractions in his ankles. He was just at the point that he could get up on all fours. He wouldn’t be able to do this with the casts. We asked a lot of questions. The physical therapist said that casting was the only help she could offer.

At this time, a friend started telling us about “treating the problem rather than dealing with the symptoms.” This really made sense to me, especially with my nursing background. Then the physical therapist insisted that we agree to wheelchairs for the boys to transport them to a school setting. With the advice and support of some other health professionals, we refused the casting and the wheelchairs. This would not only have discouraged the boys emotionally but it would have been physically detrimental as well.

About that time Doug and I took a week-long course for parents of brain-injured children. It offered methods and a commitment to target the problem, not the symptoms. We came home with some excellent information, much-needed affirmation for our beliefs and some great ideas to implement a program. However, the program was rigid, calling for daily therapy that would encompass the entire day. Again we wondered, “What about Sunday, our day of rest? What about Johnny? What about our family time? What about time to just be a mother to these boys? How could we emotionally survive?” We just couldn’t agree to the entire program. We couldn’t “live and breathe” therapy every waking moment. This wasn’t acceptable to the directors of the program. They said that if we wouldn’t commit ourselves to their entire regimen, they wouldn’t work with us. We mutually agreed to go our separate ways.

Soon after, as we struggled to implement bits and pieces from the program on our own, we met Bob Doman. We soon realized we had found the combination of treatment and philosophy we had been searching for. Bob’s goals seemed like our own:

• Help each individual child to go as far as he possibly can
• Treat the source (the brain), not the symptoms
• Work on specific tasks for specific gains
• Let families work within their own framework of priorities

What a relief to us! Finally, we had met someone who believed in us as parents and the strategic role we play in helping our children to achieve all that God has created them to be. Finally, a professional agreed that we could customize a program to meet the needs of our entire family. Finally, a professional was going to respect us as parents with God-given wisdom and offer us all the help he could in that role.

We began to implement Bob’s program in May of 1993. Two weeks later, I found out I was pregnant. Two weeks after that we went to Colorado for two months. We returned at the end of July and I was placed on bed rest for the remainder of my pregnancy. At 29 weeks, I was admitted to the hospital due to premature labor and remained there until Timothy was born six weeks later, as a healthy baby only five weeks early. I tell you all this so that you will see the less-than-perfect context in which we began Bob’s program.

When we began, we worked anywhere from 30 to 90 minutes per child, four to five days a week. Hearing this, you might expect less-than-astounding results but I am here to tell you that the progress we have seen in our boys is nothing short of amazing. At the time we first started with Bob, Michael could get up on all fours and move his left knee slightly forward. He still had a long way to go before he would crawl. His vocabulary was great, thanks to a very talkative family. However, his articulation was poor. Part of the problem was that he took a deep breath after every word. Today, after less than two years under Bob’s direction, Michael can pull himself to a standing position against furniture and can crawl onto the couch. He can “stand” steadily on his knees and can walk the full length of our house on his knees. His balance is so good that he can even carry toys with him as he walks this way. He also loves basketball and can shoot hoops quite effectively from his knee-standing position. He has aintained and expanded his good vocabulary while improving greatly in the area of articulation.

Mark began Bob’s program at about the point where Michael is today. He could pull up to furniture and was starting to take supported steps. However, he locked his knees with every step. Unlike Michael, Mark was unable to walk on his knees. His speech was marked by excessive stuttering and his vision was 20/200. He was plagued by double vision and was unable to make his eyes work together. Today, Mark walks independently without locking his knees. His gait is improving steadily. He can take one step up and one step down unsupported and is able to do a “true run.” His speech has improved and his stuttering has disappeared. His vision is now 20/80 in his “bad eye” and 20/30 in his good eye. He is also in the beginning stages of having his eyes focus together for the first time. Obviously, Bob’s program is working for us. We believe that part of our success is due to the freedom Bob has given us to implement his program within the context of our family-first priorities.

With the incredible gains we’ve seen, we are extremely encouraged. But our story isn’t over yet and at this rate, we see the boys achieving far more than the doctors ever predicted. We see them walking, running, reading, taking responsibility for themselves and others, and having a positive influence in their community and their world.

Why am I telling you all of this? There are several reasons. First of all, I want to encourage you. When Michael and Mark were diagnosed with CP, I longed for a “mentor,” another mother who could help me maneuver in these unfamiliar waters. I wanted someone to show me, as their mother, my next step in helping my boys. One of my friends was particularly helpful and I want to share her kernel of wisdom. It goes like this:

“When you’re overloaded, cut things in half. Keep cutting them in half until you can handle them. Never quit. You can always build up again once you’ve got your bearings. Never quit.”

The other reason I want to share our story is that I truly believe that God has blessed our efforts in a miraculous way. Regardless of your religious upbringing, you have probably heard the story of Jesus feeding the 5,000. In this story, Jesus blessed a boy’s lunch of 5 loaves and 2 small fish so that He could feed the people. After all 5,000 people were fed, there were 12 baskets of leftovers. I remind you of that story because I believe God still works this way today. I can’t do everything, but what I can do, I commit to Him. He blesses it and multiplies it. He surely has done this for my family and I believe He can do it for yours too.

Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 10 No. 11, 1996 ©NACD

For an update on this family please click here.

The post Cerebral Palsy: “Michael and Mark” appeared first on NACD International | The National Association for Child Development.

Last winter, little Stephanie Bridgeman stood helplessly by as her father built a snowman for her.

But Clyde Bridgeman turned to his crippled daughter and said “I promise that I’m going to help you B and next year, you will build a snowman.”

He then guided Stephanie, now 5 years old, through a year of grueling daily exercises. One year later, on Feb. 8, Bridgeman saw his pledge come true when Stephanie built that long-dreamed-of snowman in the back yard of their home in Peoria, Ill.

Stephanie has done much more than snow-sculpting in one year’s time. This spunky cerebral palsy victim has shed both her leg-braces and her walker.

“I can walk a quarter of a mile outside,” Stephanie said proudly in a telephone interview Friday.

That’s quite a feat for a child who less than two years ago could take only three steps with her braces before falling down.

On the day she built her snowman, Bridgeman said, he and his wife, Sharon, were moved to tears when Stephanie told them: “Thanks for keeping your promise.”

Although the Bridgeman’s have given up much of their social life to help Stephanie, they credit a St. Louis group for designing their self-help program and for guiding them through it.

This organization is called The NACD Foundation, with headquarters in Redlands, California. It has regional offices in Dellwood in north St. Louis County and in several other states.

Since 1982, the Bridgemans have made six visits to Dellwood for evaluation and updating of Stephanie’s home exercise program.

The Foundation’s philosophy is that parents can play a vital role in helping children overcome handicaps, says its director, Robert J. Doman, Jr.

But child-rehabilitation experts say there are many kinds of neurological disorders, some of which would not respond to any self-help program. The Bridgeman success story could be a rare event, they caution.

Doman admitted in an interview, “The Bridgeman’s are exceptional B their goals for Stephanie are very high.” But he said they succeeded because they were willing to sacrifice great amounts of time for their daughter.

When she was 9 months old, a neurologist found that Stephanie had paralysis that was caused by an accumulation of fluid in her brain.

Stephanie had three years of standard physical therapy, amounting to three, one-hour sessions a week in a rehabilitation clinic, Bridgeman said.

In fact, Stephanie’s pluck and charm led to her selection as Peoria’s Easter Seal poster child in 1982. Thousands of Illinois residents have seen her on TV.

But despite Stephanie’s celebrity status, her parents felt that she wasn’t progressing well enough.

In the fall of 1982, for example, “Stephanie could take only three steps on her own and then she would fall down, even wearing braces” Bridgeman said.

Her lack of progress prompted the Bridgeman’s to seek the help of the Child Development program here.

They’ve paid about $600 in fees to the program. But that investment has prepared them to spend hundreds of hours in training Stephanie B an effort that’s hard to put a price on, Bridgeman said.

“First, we had to teach her to crawl on her belly and to creep,” he said. Her cerebral palsy hadn’t affected her upper extremities or her speech; her brain damage had affected her from her waist down, he said.

After Stephanie had learned to creep and crawl, Bridgeman improvised a home gym for her. For example, Stephanie tries to learn walking with a normal gait as she holds herself up with an overhead ladder, he said.

The point of this and other physical activity is to stimulate healthy parts of the brain to take over the work of damaged brain tissue, Doman said.

Mrs. Bridgeman added: “Before we started the program, I had to pull her in a cart when I took her shopping with me. Now, she walks comfortably just by holding my hand.”

Stephanie also attends sessions of a preschool program for normal children.

“She gets along well with the other kids,” Mrs. Bridgeman said. “The only time they help her is when they go out to the playground. Because she walks slowly, they push her in a shopping cart, she said.

A few years ago, doctors were unsure how well Stephanie would progress. One surgeon said Stephanie would not walk unless he performed a major operation on her legs.

Today, the Bridgemans are glad they decided against surgery.

“If we hadn’t gotten involved ourselves, Stephanie would still be sitting in the house instead of walking,” Bridgeman said.

Reprinted from the Journal of The NACD Foundation (formerly The National Academy for Child Development)

Also Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 5 No. 7, 1984 ©NACD

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