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March 30, 1999
By ROBYN SZECHTMAN
Ten years as a drug counsellor hardens the softest heart,
watching drug users and their parents engage in the dance of
addiction, where one step to the right brings renewed optimism,
followed by two steps to the left where despair inevitably lurks.
It is not easy to watch the child you have loved for so many
years change into a creature capable of the most hurtful behaviors
and thoughtlessness. Yet, parents know that their child still
exists somewhere within that neglected body, and every now and
again, when the addict is at their most vulnerable, that child
will make a re-appearance and plead for help.
It's difficult for a parent to refuse even a moment's reconnection,
but $30 later, their street persona has reappeared and they have
skipped out the door without a backward glance.
I thought that I had seen it all, well, at least heard about
it, until I was approached by an organisation called the Mirabel
Foundation.
This organisation is being set up to cater for those children
whose parent's drug use renders them incapable of looking after
them and they must be placed in the care of relatives or fosterparents.
In some cases, this will be due to a fatal drug overdose.
Researching the needs of these children and the relatives that
care for them opened a new door for me about the far-reaching
effects of drug addiction.
As a worker in a rehab, I was familiar enough with the guilt
and anger of drug users who had lost their children to Protective
Services because they were considered unsuitable parents.
"I'm going to get my kids back by Christmas,'' one such
woman told me emphatically and I smiled sympathetically as my
brain did a quick inventory of her horrendous history of abuse
and neglect. I returned back to my note writing and realised
she had made off with my liquid paper for a quick, desperate
sniff in the upstairs loo. As I climbed the stairs to reclaim
the bottle, I knew the reunion would be a long time coming.
These parents live in a world of denial and false optimism, hoping
that one day "soon'' they will find the strength to give
up drugs "for the kids'', with only a small number succeeding.
It's not that these parents do not want to care for their children,
or are not good parents when drug-free; it's just that when in
the throes of an addiction, the demands of their drug habit come
before anything else.
But I had never really thought much about the relatives. In most
cases, it is the grandparents who end up caring for these children.
What effect does it have on their life and what about the circumstances
that bring these children into their care? They all have one
feature in common: it is incredibly traumatic for all the parties
involved, especially the children, who have no understanding
of the complexity of addiction. The only thing they understand
is that, for whatever reason, mum or dad doesn't want them any
more. Death of a parent only confirms this.
Many of these grandparents have been looking after the child
on and off from birth. It is not uncommon for them to receive
a phone call saying "come and get the baby''. A couple of
months later, this will be followed by another call, "bring
the baby back''.
One grandmother, Donna, told me of the heartbreak of having to
hand over a small infant to her daughter, who was living in a
rooming house with her partner. The conditions of the room were
squalid and her daughter didn't even throw the baby a glance,
just ordered her mother to place him on the bed and leave.
Donna says it was at this point she realised she had no legal
rights over the baby and no way to protect him from his mother.
It only took two days before she received the call to fetch him.
Donna was so concerned by the state of the baby, she headed straight
to a child-care nurse, who suggested she consult a lawyer. Within
a day, Donna had won temporary custody of her grandchild.
Other grandparents inherit the care of their grandchild after
the death of their own child due to drugs. In the throes of tremendous
grief, they have to wade through bureaucracies such as the Family
Law Court and Centrelink while organising the funeral. The stress
of catering to the needs of grieving children while dealing with
their own feelings is overwhelming, and other members of the
family - usually the drug-user's siblings - are called on to
help. As one grandparent explained, this also had the effect
of bringing to the fore her other children's long-held resentments
of how their errant sister can still dominate their mother's
attentions, even in death.
These grandparents' lives are turned upside down overnight. They
are hurled back to a much earlier life stage dominated by the
care of children. The ages of the carers I spoke to ranged from
the late 40s to the early 70s, an age when people have already
retired, or are contemplating it. Their funds to care for these
children are often limited and the financial burden ruins any
plans they had for a modest retirement. Often one grandparent
is forced to take on a second job, or delay their retirement
for another few years.
These grandparents find themselves socially isolated, due to
the different lifestyle they now have from their own friends,
and find it hard to cope with the energy levels and financial
demands of these children on a daily basis. This can take a toll
on their marriage, or if the grandparent is single, greatly reduce
their opportunities to form a new relationship.
One way or another, their decision to take on these children
extracts a high price, although as many grandparents pointed
out, they still derive much pleasure from the presence of these
children. Of great concern to them is the future of their grandchildren
when they die.
These children often have special needs that make parenting more
difficult. Children who have been with their relatives in a stable
environment from infancy appear more stable and resilient than
those who have lived with their drug-using parent for some years
beforehand. Kids often blame themselves for their parent's inability
to care for them and it is common for them to take on a protective
or caring role beyond their years, in an effort to win the parent's
affections.
Some children actually witness the death of their parent due
to an overdose. In one case, the same children watched both their
parents die some years apart. That's a lot for a child to cope
with and leaves deep scars on their psyche. This can result in
insecurity that shows itself through clingy and demanding behaviors,
and many of these children have problems trusting people.
Some grandparents identified adolescence as the time when the
children's suppressed anger and angst would be acted out.
A heart-wrenching admission made by some of these grandparents
was that life became easier for them and their grandchildren
after the death of the caretaking parent; their own child. They
explained that although the parents loved their offspring, their
behavior was inconsistent and unreliable, leaving the children
confused and distressed when promises were broken. These grandparents
said the grief of helplessly watching their own children's slow
destruction was overwhelming and exhausting. Once they had died,
they could at least get on with the job of providing their grandchildren
with a stable environment without interruption.
For the grandparents who live in hope that their own child will
"come to their senses'' and resume their parental responsibilities,
it can be a long wait that consists of renewed optimism when
the parent appears to be back to normal again, only to have their
hopes dashed when they resume using. Most of these grandparents
would happily hand the children back to the parents, but only
if they are convinced they are going to a safe environment.
There are no winners within the families of drug users. The parents
of these kids are left with the guilt and heartbreak of not being
able to care for their own children, the children are left confused
and distressed at the separation from their parents and the grandparents
are left to pick up the pieces of these unhappy lives. As one
grandmother commented, she sometimes looks at her grandchild
and asks herself: "What if she goes wrong, too?''
* The Mirabel Foundation can be contacted by writing to PO Box
1320, St Kilda South, 3182.
Copyright (c) David Syme Co 1999. |
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