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Tiffany Callo redux

December 28, 2007 By Carrie Ann Lucas Leave a Comment

Sabreena Westphal, formerly known as Tiffany Callo, is engaged in a fight for custody of her youngest child. Westphal, whose struggle to regain custody of her oldest children was the subject of a book A Mother’s Touch: The Tiffany Callo Story. Like most parents who have been involved with social services, the birth of a new child brought instant scrutiny from child protection workers.

Reportedly, Westphal has inadequate attendant support, lacks adaptive equipment to allow independence, and has been slow to meet the requirements of her treatment plan, and predictably, her parental rights are at risk. If the facts are as reported, Callo and her partner aren’t ready for her daughter to be home at this time. Putting aside the systemic issues that put Westphal in this situation, there are better options than our current system to provide permanency and security for children, while at the same time allow children to be nurtured and loved by their birth families.

So often, child protection workers admit that parents like Westphal love their children, but that they don’t have the skills to parent them. In response, they terminate parental rights and allow the children to be adopted by another family. While we don’t allow birth families to treat their children as chattel, we instead commodidize the children as chattel for their adoptive families. We need to rethink our child protection and family preservation systems so that they really do act in harmony and in the best interest of children and their families. Parents like Westphal can be a positive and nurturing influence in their children’s lives, and their children in theirs, but our system does not allow that to happen. Termination of parental rights and adoption preclude courts from ordering continuing contact, even when it is in the best interests of children. As demonstrated by what happened with Westphal’s older children, continuing contact with children after adoption is at the whim of the adoptive parents, not based upon what is in the best interest of children. It is possible to develop legislation and public policy that allows children the permanency adoption offers, while at the same time preserving those crucial ties to their families of origin. The more loving resources in a child’s life the better, but our system does not allow for that option.

I will blog a bit more about the myth of best interests, and family preservation in later posts.

Filed Under: Media, on parenting with a disability
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good news out of Montana

December 27, 2007 By Carrie Ann Lucas Leave a Comment

This evening I got good news from Marsha Katz in Montana.

Three years ago Livingston, Montana social services decided decided that Geri Glass, a woman with quadriplegia, would neglect her newborn son, Gage, if he was permitted to remain in her care, based solely on their perceptions of her disability. Social services mandated that Ms. Glass never be alone with her son until he was over the age of 12, and that she create a safety plan for his care from infancy through adulthood. They demanded a 24/7/18 year plan to “ensure Gage’s safety.” During one meeting, social services explored placing Glass and Gage into a nursing home, without her consent, and tried to force Glass to give her son up for adoption. Social services told Glass that she was required to have 24/7 attendant care to assist with Gage until he was 12 years old, or she could assign guardianship of Gage to someone else for 12 years.  Glass moved in to her aunt’s inaccessible home, to keep her son with her, and fought to be able to return to her own, accessible home, where she could care for Gage with attendant care.

Despite their threats, social services never filed a court case, which meant that Glass had no way to seek review of social services’ actions.  Glass prepared to fight social services, and the media got involved.  In the face of negative publicity,  social services closed their file on Glass. Glass filed an ADA complaint with a state agency, and last week received a ruling in her favor, finding that the state of Montana’s Department of Public Health and Human Services (“DPHHS” discriminated on the basis of disability, and that the DPHHS retaliated against Glass for attempting to advocate for herself. The remedial phase of her case continues.

A pdf. version of the decision is posted on the disabilitypride.com site.

Filed Under: Caselaw, on parenting with a disability
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the usual Christmas

December 26, 2007 By Carrie Ann Lucas Leave a Comment

It was Christmas as usual (and unusual) at our house this year. My 17 year old had a cold as usual. I couldn’t find aides to work as usual. I burned part of Christmas dinner, as usual. It was unusual in that it was my 12 year old’s first Christmas at home (we went out of town last year for her first Christmas since joining the family). It was unusual in that we had a White Christmas with a record-setting almost 10 inches of snow. Typically Denver does not get that much snow, and it is very unusual to have White Christmas’s two years in a row. Kids here are more apt to be able to ride their new bikes on Christmas day, rather than use their new sleds.

My 17 year old got her usual gifts — a new slinky, a new set of handbells, and some electronic v-tech toy that lights up and vibrates. And, per usual, she had no interest in the gift wrapping or unwrapping. She has no joy in unwrapping gifts, and will explore them only after they are unwrapped and handed to her, provided she doesn’t have something better to do like sleep. I’ve finally stopped trying to create parity in numerosity and value between her gifts and the gifts her sisters get. She doesn’t care that I can buy her slinky off the dollar rack, or that her bells cost less than $15. They are the things she enjoys, and that is the point of gifts. Of course I do wrap up necessities like socks, toothbrushes, and new pajamas like I do for her sisters, but that is for our benefit, not hers. I always try to come up with a gift that is something she will enjoy, but that is new and different. This year it was a bead curtain. She enjoys it, but doesn’t get the gift part.

For years I have felt guilty over the inequality of her gifts, her lack of excitement, and even my attempts to force her involvement in the trappings of Christmas. I think I am over the guilt about the gifts, but I feel like I am walking a tightrope, balancing between letting her be herself, and accepting who she is, and pushing her to be more socially involved. I never know what the line is between letting her be herself, and allowing her to withdraw into her own world without interacting with the rest of us. Sometimes that line is bright. On Christmas morning, when she refused to wake up for gift unwrapping, it was clear she was choosing not to participate, and there was nothing I could do about it. I put her back to bed, and left her gifts under the tree until she woke in the afternoon. Sometimes she has to participate in something because the rest of us are — like Christmas Eve services at church. At other times, there are glimmers of enjoyment. She seems to enjoy me reading ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas, especially as my signing skills have improved, and I don’t have to skip parts because I have no idea how to sign things like reindeer. She definitely enjoys going to the Nutcracker.

The tightrope feeling remains about so many other things, at Christmas and year ’round. I am not sure where that line is of including her, forcing her involvement, and allowing her to have some measure of self determination that is appropriate for a young woman who is nearly a legal adult.

Filed Under: kids with disabilities, on parenting with a disability
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Santa Claus

December 25, 2007 By Carrie Ann Lucas Leave a Comment

After Thanksgiving, I sat my soon-to-be-nine and twelve year olds down and told them that Santa Claus was not real. The nine year old was relieved.

Two years ago, at her first Christmas with us, I did the whole Santa thing with her. She was almost 7, and we baked cookies for Santa to eat, made reindeer food, set out stockings, etc. I took her to the mall to see Santa, and she was chattering up a storm, until the moment she sat next to Santa. She refused to say a word. I questioned her about that in the car as we drove home.

“Were you afraid of Santa?”, I asked.

“Noooo,” she said defiantly.

“Were you nervous?”

“No,” she said with her head shaking. I asked her why wouldn’t she talk. Initially she refused to answer, but I pushed the subject a bit, and she said, “He doesn’t come,” and she refused to tell me what she wanted.

Well, that about broke my heart. I doubt she remembers her first couple of Christmas’, both spent in the hospital, and she doesn’t remember much about her birth family. I am pretty certain her earliest Christmas memories are from her foster home, the home where she had no toys. The home where her foster mom told me that she didn’t need toys because she wouldn’t play with them. The home with the foster parent who refused to let her have a power chair because she didn’t want wheelchairs in her house. The home where she shared a bedroom with an older teenage boy. The home with the chain smoking foster parent who propped bottles for infants, and “let them cry it out” whenever they were upset (and this was her behavior when the social worker and I were in her home visiting my soon-t0-be daughter). It didn’t surprise me in the least to hear that Santa didn’t come to see her in her foster home.

She still wouldn’t tell. It became clear that she was testing the Santa theory, and was refusing to tell us what she wanted. I kept assuring her that Santa did come to our house, but he couldn’t read minds, so she needed to either tell Santa, or write him a letter. After quite a lot of coaxing, she did finally tell us what she wanted — Elmo. She got her Elmo that year, and was positively silly with excitement when she did. Over the last two years, she became more skeptical again.

When I told her Santa wasn’t real, she looked positively relieved. No longer does she have to think the benevolent guy who brings toys to all kids let her down, but rather the stinky adults who were in her life.  That is an easier pill to swallow.

The twelve year old was a different story. She didn’t look disappointed or anything.  She just nodded her head in agreement.   I could ask, “Is Santa real?” and she would dutifully answer “No,” but she doesn’t believe me.  Throughout the Christmas season, she would make comments that indicated that she really believed in Santa.  She asked to sit on his lap, asked to write a letter.  She asked to set out cookies.  We skipped all that symbolism this year, but even last night, she went right to sleep so that “Santa could come.”

On one hand, I understand that she may believe forever, due to her developmental and intellectual disabilities.  It’s pretty ingrained in her.  On the other hand, she looks very typical.  Her disability is quite invisible on the surface.  She spends most of her school day with typical peers.   I know she will experience continuing grief from her peers if she expresses her belief.  I feel like I have to give her this grasp at normalcy.  If she doesn’t get it, I can accept that, but as her parent, I have to try to help her grow and develop in this way.  So, we will see what next year brings.

Filed Under: kids with disabilities