FINDING PIECES AND PEACE

FREE PREVIEW FROM PAGES 20-22 “Nothing has more strength than dire necessity.” F -Euripides MILTON AND GLEN Living in Pierre, we experienced my first fostercare-forced move of two children by the state authorities, of which Bob was a participant. Kevin was nine months old. None of the Child Welfare caseworkers was available to assist Bob, and I never turned down a chance to do something more than clean an apartment if I could bring Kevin. I hadn't heard any details of this case and was surprised when the sheriff met us at the foster parent's home, and they went inside to get the children. Everyone told me to wait in the car with Kevin. Bob and the sheriff raced through a porch door a few minutes later. The sheriff carried a crying toddler in his arms, and Bob cradled a small, quiet bundle. A man and woman (I assumed they were the foster parents) followed Bob and the Sheriff, crying, and cursing at all of us. I never heard the complete explanation for the need to remove the children, but it didn't appear to be a decision embraced by any of the four affected home inhabitants. The oldest boy quieted a few miles down the road. Glen was about four years old, and Milton was 18 months old. I had been holding Kevin, nine months, in my lap to this point, but I could see I would need to put him in the back seat, which was always okay with him. Those were the days before seat belts and infant seats, so Kevin was his loud, rambunctious self in the back seat next to Glen, who sat quietly on the chair, staring out the window through his tears. Kevin scampered around the backseat and the floor as he tried to get anyone's attention who would look or listen to him. Eighteen-month-old Milton needed to be held because he could not sit without slouching or falling over. He never cried; he never tried to speak; he never sucked on the bottle his foster mother provided us. Milton was twice as old but half the size of our son. Bob commented that our son should be as quiet as these kids, and that statement rankled my nerves. "Our son is not as quiet as these kids, and I'll bet you're not like their father. I can assure you that I don't want our son to be anything like Milton. Milton is not well." A year later, Milton was dead. His death certificate listed the cause of death as "failure to thrive," a term associated with FASD. A couple raised on the reservation, educated in law and social work at the University of South Dakota, explained that "failure to survive" is an inability of a child to bond and take any interest in life and day-to-day activities. The result is dehydration and starvation. I always felt "failure to survive" was a sanitized version of adult neglect and a term that placed the blame on the victim as though he chose suicide at such a young age. Michael Dorris portrayed another boy with similar symptoms in a heart-breaking novel, The Broken Cord (Dorris, 1989). After publishing this novel, Dorris's reputation suffered from disclosures about his life. However, the book caused a media frenzy that drew the public's attention to the effects of fetal alcohol syndrome. I knew the boy Dorris adopted when the boy was named Ray. Bob had placed many children with George and Willa's licensed foster care, and this home was Bob’s choice for Ray. These foster parents had three biological children and a very messy home. But these parents were loving and caring. Bob and I socialized often with this couple and found them very interesting. It was a loving and nurturing home—just messy. On many occasions, I held Ray and could only describe the experience as one of holding a monkey who wrapped his bony legs around my waist and pawed at my face with long, skinny fingers, and emitted grunts for speech. After six months with Willa and George, Ray showed minimal signs of physical or mental growth. All of us were surprised to hear there was a possible adoption in Ray's life. We were skeptical when we heard it was a single young man, but the adoption went through quickly. If someone wanted to adopt such a challenged child, no one in the legal world or state agencies wanted to stand in the way. Ray was picked up within a week by Michael Dorris and legally adopted within weeks. In contrast to this quick adoption process, our adoption with Denver Social Services involved one year of interviews and home visitations to place Denise with us and another five months to finalize the process with the legal system.