I’m glad I know now—that what I knew then—was absolutely right
by Lyn Waldeck
Those of us who have passed that 60-year-old mile marker will often ponder the things of our past. What would we do differently? How do we mend past transgressions? What could have been avoided had a different fork in the road been followed? I am no exception. On a personal level, after raising 5 boys I have plenty of those moments that I wish I could go back and redo. I am sure my parents did the same. So many “If only I had known.”
Today, though, I take the time to look back on those years and ponder, “What did I do right?” One thing, without a doubt, revolves around what I share with you parents in this article. I lovingly, sometimes not easily, trained my special needs son to know how to fit into a social gathering, to be appreciated, to have good manners, and to be enjoyed. This was truly a monumental task that I did not do alone. Our extended family members played incredible parts. The NACD families and staff members that I worked alongside had a huge impact on him, as did, most importantly, his siblings.
I can remember the early painful years when the doctor reviewed his scans with us. The thoughts of “What will he miss out on?” “Where will his life take him as an adult?” “Will people accept him?” Those thoughts were so prevalent and so constant in the beginning. There was a time at when I had to buckle down and think, “Well, whatever will be, we will do our darndest to make it as good for him as possible.” Once I found NACD, things got easier for me emotionally. Most likely the reason is that I was so busy putting into action a plan to help him that there wasn’t as much time to focus on pain. However, there were always those hurtful moments, usually when someone asked a thoughtless question or gave us “the look” that special needs families often get. At those times the hurt would come like an unexpected wave, I would sink a little, then rise up and fight again in the only ways I knew how: unconditional love, doing program, and training him to be pleasant.
The love was the easy part. That child was seared into my heart the minute I saw a picture shown to me by a mission group looking to find him a home. You would think that the hard part would be all the hours of input needed through program to help him develop. I will confess, I did not carry that load alone. Evan’s brothers did as much program as I did with him, if not more. After getting into the rhythm of doing program, the ups and downs, the 90% days and the 2% days, NACD really became a matter of a lifestyle rather than a long intimidating list of activities to do. The hard part, though, was really focusing on social training.
I once heard a mother at one of our seminars put it in words in a way that spoke to me. She said, “At first, I thought my special needs son’s behavior had to be as good as other children, but I later found I was wrong. His behavior had to be BETTER to be accepted. If he stepped out of line from time to time, like all children do, the thought was never that he was behaving like a child, but rather a ‘special needs child.’” So many of you know the situations I refer to. You have been there and felt those kicks to the gut.
To give you an idea of the hurdles we faced, prior to adoption, Evan was one of the most severely abused children that I have ever heard of that actually survived. In fact, he was at death’s door when I finally found him. You would think that it would be hard to overcome the kind of suffering he went through, but the real difficulty came from the tendency of others, including myself, to give him too much slack during the early years of his recovery. From the day we first had him, Evan was truly welcomed by our family members and the people in our orbit at the time. His story was so incredible that people wanted all the details, wanted to surround him with kindness and acceptance, and in some way felt a need to “make things up to him.” Within a short amount of time, that started to backfire just a bit to some degree. All the attention, all of the preference shown, started to create a situation where he became a child who wanted to monopolize everyone in his world. At parties he would pick his favorite people and want to hang on them, perseverating on the same comments. He wanted to always be the center of attention. He was overly affectionate at an age that made it awkward. There was point in time that I had to wake up and think, “I don’t want him to grow to be a person other people avoid.” We went through a time of intensively training him how to shake hands rather than hug his brothers’ teammates, to give social space, and to wait and let others speak. The social training years were tough. There was a lot of redirecting at gatherings, which he would often show displeasure at. In noticing my correction and training, often other people would say, “It’s ok. I understand. He can do— (whatever annoying thing he was doing).” There were even family members that would feed into his annoyances. I really had to put my foot down and explain that they may love him and want to patiently tolerate those immature habits, but …what about other people? How will he be received by the friends of siblings, or strangers we run across? The more pleasant he is, the more opportunities he has to be included, which allows him to experience more joy. The hardest place, I do believe, for that training was in our NACD waiting room. Keep in mind the parents we work with are the most accepting, caring people you could encounter. I remember walking out of an evaluation one day to find him sitting in someone’s lap. A new client at that. At the age of TEN! It only took one stern “Evan Waldeck” to see him jump up and know he was busted over ignoring the “space” rule we made him follow with most people. We even had to make a list of who got a front hug, who got a side hug, and everyone else needed to get a handshake. I looked so mean. I really was convinced it would pay off, and all along it was an act of love.
Fast forward to a trip we recently took. We were staying in the home of a family Evan and I had never met. At first it was just to be me and a friend, and Evan was going to spend time at home with his brother. But things got moved around, and at the last minute, Evan was included in the trip. Let me set this up for you. The adults that we were staying with both had careers working with special needs adults. After a few days, I was pulled aside and told, “We have to confess, at first we were a bit concerned. We thought about all we had planned to do. There were hikes, nice restaurants, and lot of sites to see. When we heard your special needs, blind son would be coming, we figured all plans would have to change.” They were shocked to see how easily he fit in and how much fun he added to the group. They even asked me, “How did you produce such a mature special needs adult?” Keep in mind, both of them had spent decades working with special needs adults. I have to tell you; it was a moment I will never forget. To realize that “what I knew then” was right on target gave me a real sense of achievement. The icing on the cake was that Evan had a blast.
Please know that as a staff we have decades of experience working with children at every level of accomplishment. We have experience with families we have worked with their entire lives. We also have children and grandchildren ourselves that we have raised or are currently raising. We see what happens when appropriate behavior is made a priority. As you travel this journey, always remember one of the kindest things you can do for any child is to train them up in a way that makes them a delight to be around.
Reprinted by permission of The NACD Foundation, Volume 39 No. 1 , 2025 ©NACD
