My Son's Other Mother
by Susan Truax

Okay here is my 2 cents on birth mothers. I met my son's birth mom when she was in the third grade. Here was this beautiful Native American little girl, she is also FAE. I watched her struggle through all the subjects.  She was a real hard worker.  She was one of those children that you could almost see the light bulb light up when she finally got an idea or a concept. Her parents pulled her out of the boarding school I worked in when she was in the 5th grade. I still saw her and kept in touch with her then and right up to this day.

When she had her first child at 14, I cried.  The father was 24 and he also comes from an alcoholic family. When a year later she started drinking with him and got pregnant with her second child I tried to stop her from drinking.  I got no help from her family.  Her mother said that her Mother drank and she was all right. She also said she saw no reason to stop drinking.

When she was 15 and got pregnant with the baby that I eventually adopted, Elcon, I knew she was doing more than just drinking, she was huffing solvents, doing grass, and some street drugs. She would call me when she ended up drunk and in the hospital because of a fight in the bar, house or street - wherever she was drinking. She didn't want that baby, because she was still with the same man getting drunk, verbally abused and at times physically abused. She would say "I deserve it."  When she asked me to take her baby so she could go into rehab, I said yes, but that only lasted 3 days. When she called again and asked again I said yes. When at 5 months she gave me custody of this little malnourished lump that didn't smile, was all eyes and could not even turn over or make any kind of noise, I promised him that I would do the most I could for him and his mother.

Do I hate her? NO. 

Do I wish I could do more for her? Yes. 

Do I get angry every time life hands my son another diagnosis, more lemons for the lemonade that is his mental and physical life? YES

When last year I found out she was pregnant again with her fourth child, I called the Tribal Chairman.  The new Tribal Chairman is a woman who told her policemen that anyone thought to be pregnant who is seen drinking or drugging was to be taken into custody until they got her treatment or someone could make sure that no more things would hurt the unborn child. This child - and she is still a child even though she is now 25 years old - has been in rehab twice since November. This time if she doesn't make it, the baby will be taken away for good.

I pray for her every night. It might be easier to hate than to fight, but when my son looks at me with those big brown eyes, I realize that she is missing out. She doesn't even know how old this neat little weird kid is.  She doesn't get to snuggle with him every night.  She's not the one he calls from the YMCA because he is afraid because he didn't see her right after school and just has to tell me he loves me. She's not the one he brings his report card home to, overjoyed because he got a D in math.

Will she ever be all right?  I have no idea.  I just do what I can and pray.

Will my son be all right? YES.  Elcon is a survivor just like every other child with FAS that I know, and I will build on the skills that he used in the first four month of his life to survive. I always tell him when he says he hates his lemonade life that isn't it great that we both like lemonade. So we add a little sugar, and I remind him about all the things he can do that others can't do, and remind him he is such a great Nintendo player that no one wants to play against him in the boys club tournaments, that kids call him to ask how to play a game.

No person intentionally becomes addicted to anything.

So I tell people that Elcon - who is handsome and has a quick smile and a great sense of humor - has a disability and needs a little more help.

I remind people that we all need help, some more than others. Since none of us has a magic wand, we have to do it one step at a time. I'm glad that when the steps start to get too steep I have a support group to lean on. Most of all I thank God that he saw fit to put this boy in my life. Not bad for a lady from New Jersey that ended up in South Dakota, away from her family and most of the friends I grew up with. I have MS and my marriage of 30 years died a few years ago, so I don't have or want the stamina to hate. My life is too busy, too interesting, and most of the time too happy to waste it on negative feelings.


 

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