Baby Shelter Needs Hugging Volunteers

For volunteers at the Bienvenidos Children’s Center, heart-tugging moments are an occupational hazard.

“One night, I was playing with a little boy with building blocks. It was such a touching experience when he reached up, touched my shoulder and said ‘Look, Mama.’ It pulled at my heartstrings,” said Agnes Kee, a volunteer at the 24-hour emergency shelter for abused, abandoned and drug addicted children.

Director Lorri Castro said the emotional toll of the work can make it hard for the 2 1/2-year-old center to hang on to its volunteers.

“There is a large turnover rate for the volunteers,” Castro said. “Some of these people can’t deal with the separation after a while. They totally fall in love with the kids. When the kids leave, there is a big gap in their hearts.”

But for those who stick it out, there are rewards.

“One little girl I fell in love with would just scream because she didn’t want to be in her crib,” said Carrie Kramer, a coordinator of the center’s volunteer program. “I would rock her until she would sleep. When she left the center it was sad.

“But then, there’s plenty of little babies that want to be held and rocked. They reach out to you. . . . They smile.”

Added Jill Sterling, a Bienvenidos volunteer for the past three months, “I’ve seen these children grow. At least half of them have blossomed in their speech since they have been here.”

About 700 babies have passed through the West Covina center since it opened in June, 1987. “Of those, 85% of them were here as a consequence of drugs,” Castro said. “At least 50% of those were born drug addicted.”

Other babies with drug-related problems include those whose mothers were arrested on drug charges.

Currently, 43 infants and toddlers are staying at Bienvenidos. Castro said the children, who range in age from newborn to 3 years, are placed in the center by public protective services agencies responsible to the Juvenile Court.

“A baby can stay anywhere from three days to one year,” Castro said. The center becomes their home until the courts determine whether the children can safely return to their families or should be placed with a foster family, she said.

The center receives federal funds to cover about 80% of its $2-million-plus annual budget, and the county picks up another 5%, Castro said. It depends on donations and charitable grants to cover the rest of its expenses. The center also is constantly on the lookout for donated baby shoes, socks, diapers, toys and crib sheets.

Bienvenidos is so eager to attract volunteers that it has a special information line, (800) 828-LOVE.

The center has a paid staff of 75 to 80 people, including nurse practitioners, registered physical therapists, pediatricians, care-givers and social workers. Its 10 volunteers together donate an average of about 20 hours a week.

Abused children may display aggressiveness, anger and withdrawal, Castro said. And, because at least half of the babies are fighting drug addiction, many of them have behavioral difficulties and feeding problems. The babies with drug problems in particular require lots of individual attention because they tend to get sick more than other children, she said.

Bienvenidos does not treat children in need of intensive or immediate medical attention. But taking care of the center’s often-troubled young residents is a challenge nevertheless.

“They look like normal children. They have more emotional scars rather than physical ones,” Castro said. “The struggle is teaching the children that it’s OK to trust adults . . . that not all adults are bad people.”

The center provides one paid care-giver for every three children 24 hours a day, Castro said. Volunteers step in to assist.

Kee, a full-time field marketing assistant in the City of Industry, visits the center after work for a few hours each week.

She cradles babies to sleep. She feeds them. She plays games with the toddlers. Sometimes, when all the children are sleeping, she helps the paid staff wash, dry and fold clothes.

“When I first started going there, I felt like I was doing it for me,” said Kee, 42. “Now, I feel like I am doing it for them. If for some reason I can’t go, I feel real guilty.”

The center is in a two-story building that used to house offices of the Internal Revenue Service. Inside, it has been transformed to look like a cheerful nursery, complete with pictures of Disney characters, rocking horses, animals, clowns and balloons.

Toys are everywhere: lined up on shelves, tucked into toy boxes, on the beds, in children’s hands. Infants’ cribs line one wing, and toddlers sleep on small beds in another. Each crib and bed has its own set of matching sheets, pillows and quilts. Behind the building, there is a small outdoor playground with a sandbox and a play module for climbing and hiding.

Diane Gillette, a Bienvenidos volunteer for about a year, described the center as a “good, cheerful place.”

“It doesn’t look so industrial. It looks like a day-care center,” she said.

Monica Ramos, another coordinator of the volunteer program, said the children, despite their rough beginning in life, have hope and potential.

“It’s sad. Some of the babies there have no first name. It’s a rude awakening but not depressing. There is hope for these babies.

“Most people think, ‘Oh, how depressing. I can’t do it.’ But that’s not the case,” Ramos said. “It’s contrary to what most people think. It’s a fun facility. They give such great care to the babies.

“It’s making the best of a real horrible situation.”