When a Special Needs Child Begins to Grow Up (12/29/2022)

“Once you choose Hope, anything is possible.” – Christopher Reeve

She walked up in front of the church and picked up the microphone, as I sat nervously in my seat with video recording. The music began as she waited patiently, with her trusty leader in the congregation to cue her in. She began singing “The First Noel,” mostly in tempo, mostly in tune, but fully present and relaxed. Not a single flutter in her voice showing anxiety or fear, not a single question of doubt or a tear.

She is different now.

I hardly recognized the child I saw before me that Christmas morning, which fell on a Sunday. Elianna was everything but the challenged little girl I had watched struggle over the past eight years. Diagnosed at an early age with the harsh realities of anxiety, depression, ADHD, and multiple learning disorders, she had been labeled with “Emotional Behavior Disorder” (EBD) at school and separated from all the other kids without an IEP (Individualized Educational Plan). Her violent, disturbing behavior required a highly restrictive environment with teachers skilled in de-escalation procedures when her fierce and frequent meltdowns took center stage.

She was different back then.

Eight years of sorted tantrums are tough on a parent, each instance causing my own level of anxiety, regret, humiliation, and fear of judgment. Like the time she crumbled in front of her ballet class and I had to chase her around the studio, only to then literally drag her out to the car, in front of all the other parents. Or the time when she stabbed another child in the chest with a pencil. Or the time she repeatedly threatened to kill herself at school.

I was different back then.

I didn’t want to admit that Elianna had “special needs.” Or that I was a parent of a special-needs child. I think I finally came to terms with it when she was kicked out of the second preschool. And a regular Kindergarten class. And the in-house EBD classroom. I figured I was to blame for all of her issues. I easily assumed I wasn’t a good enough mother, since I, myself, dealt with anxiety and depression during those rough years. I felt I had failed her in my total inadequacy.

I am different now.

I can’t sum up in a single blog post all that we’ve got through together. Nor is this the end of our journey. But when she says, “I want to be like you, Mom,” my heart runs amuck with relief and humility, knowing she is watching and what I do is vitally important to her. Yes, she still has her meltdowns, much fewer and farther between however, but she’s now a model student in her classroom because she wants to “be a champion and a leader,” like Daddy always says. Her extreme sensitivity does cause her feelings to get frequently hurt, but it also gives her a humble, gentle and loving heart more than most.

The journey is different now.

Elianna goes to a regular school, sits in a regular classroom for the most part, and works impressively hard when required. Last term she even got straight A’s. Mommy’s heart still wanders into regret and frustration at times, but then I think about that Christmas morning and remember that God’s in control and has bigger plans for her than I ever could. (To be continued…)