Together in Hard Times : Funds Cut for Program That Keeps Families Intact as Addict Moms Get Clean

On a tree-lined street in a residential neighborhood, 20 women live quietly behind locked doors in an unmarked building.

All are pregnant or mothers of newborn children. All are also drug addicts, enrolled in an experimental program administered by the Tarzana Treatment Center to try to get them off crack cocaine and heroin for good.

“About 150 babies have been born to women here in the program,” said Ken Bachrach, clinical director at the treatment center. “That’s 150 babies born drug-free.”

But the federally funded program, which was supposed to have five years to prove itself, was cut back this summer at the federal Substance Abuse and Mental Health Administration (SAMHA). The program officially ends Dec. 31, after three years.

“We have been told it has nothing to do with our program,” Bachrach said. “We just got caught up in general budget cuts.”

The Long Beach program, overseen by the treatment center from its Tarzana headquarters, was cost effective, Bachrach said, because babies born with drugs in their systems need extra treatment costing thousands of dollars in the first days of life, usually at taxpayer expense.

And because the program helps its graduates move into environments where it’s easier to remain clean and sober, the societal and cost benefits would continue to add up, he said.

To government officials who canceled the funding, it was a numbers problem--some programs simply had to go. But to these women--mostly poor and in some cases homeless before acceptance into the program--it’s a question of family values.

“They don’t know how it is for a woman on drugs out there on the streets with their children,” said Jackie, 32, whose baby girl lives with her in the residence, the only all-women facility run by the Tarzana Treatment Center. “This is the only way I will get to keep my child.”

Children were always at the top of the list when these women were asked why they got involved in the program.

“When things get tough, a man can get up and leave,” said Jackie, who had been here just a few days. “But a woman has to take care of the kids. If I’m not clean and sober, how am I going to do that?”

Most of the women had been previously enrolled in outpatient programs for drug users. But their rehabilitation, if achieved, didn’t last long. They needed to go “inside,” shorthand for a residential program with around-the-clock supervision.

But until the Tarzana program and a handful of others for pregnant and postpartum women were opened in 1993 on SAMHA grants, live-in children were rarely welcome in residential programs.

“These women didn’t want to leave their kids,” said Mary Just, the on-site project director of the Tarzana program. “So, they would put off going into a program and the problems got much, much worse.”

Some of the Tarzana program’s pregnant women--aware that babies testing positive for drugs are often taken from their mothers in the hospitals and placed into the foster-care system--enrolled shortly after finding out they were going to have a child.

Iris, who lived in Sylmar, was in an outpatient crack program when she discovered she was pregnant. “I said I had to go inside so that I could have a clean baby,” said Iris, 27. “I called Tarzana and they said to come the next day.” Her son was born in nearby Long Beach Memorial Medical Center on Aug. 6, and then they both returned to the program.

Her baby, like others in the program, spends much of his days in the nursery, being cared for by the women in the residence, who work on a rotating schedule.

“This is my little friend,” whispered Jeanette, 37, as she rocked a 4-month-old baby to sleep in the nursery. “Quite a few babies born while I’ve been here.”

Like most of the women in the program, Jeanette could instantly recall how long she had been “inside.”

“Four months, four days,” she said.

Six months is the average period of time women are in the program, if they stay long enough to receive a “treatment-complete” declaration from their counselors, Just said.

About 35% leave early, usually at the urging of husbands and boyfriends who “are afraid that if the woman is clean and sober, things will change,” Just said. “They are scared [the women] might not be dependent on them anymore.”

During their first weeks in the program, the women are not permitted to leave or have much contact with the outside world. No newspapers, television or radio are allowed. Almost nonstop from early in the morning into the evening hours, they attend group therapy and counseling sessions and classes to prepare for their eventual release.

About 40% of enrollees, Bachrach said, read at or below the eighth-grade level.

Eventually, as they progress, the women can have visits and go on supervised outings.

Jeanette’s own babies, twin girls, were born before she got into the program. They had drugs in their systems and are living with their father, who Jeanette said used drugs until three years ago.

Jeanette knows that on the outside, if the results of a future drug test on her are “dirty,” she could lose the children.

“I want to be the woman who can take care of her family,” she said. “I want to be able to get up and go to work, just like everyone.”

Less than a year ago, Deena, now 25, was homeless and surviving as a prostitute. She had been doing drugs--first speed and then crack--almost daily since high school, and when she found out she was pregnant, she did even more. “I wanted to kill myself and my baby,” she said.

She saw a doctor for the first time in her eighth month because she was in pain. That was in an emergency room, and when the doctors saw her condition, they immediately ordered a caesarean delivery.

The baby boy was born addicted, and Deena was told that immediately after treatment, he would go into foster care. Deena wasn’t surprised. She had never considered keeping the baby.

Until he was born.

“It was kind of funny, but I felt we had been through all this together,” she said. “I didn’t want to give him up. I told the social worker, and she said that if I wanted the baby, I would have to prove I could stay off drugs.

“I had the baby on the 25th of January. On the 28th, I arrived here.”

Deena progressed to the point where program officials allowed her to attend Long Beach Community College four days a week on a grant that covers her tuition.

She had a few visits with her baby, in the presence of social workers. Then earlier this month, the boy was allowed to spend a weekend at the residence. “It was just enough time to start bonding,” she said. “I think he knows me.”

If Deena stays off drugs, she may gain custody of her child. There is a good chance the baby will have physical and mental problems, perhaps his whole life. Drug-affected children tend to be slow learners and suffer from short attention spans.

But Deena wants him back.

“If I had not gotten pregnant and had that child, I would still be out there,” she said. “He saved my life.”

Most of the women in the program are in the process of trying to get at least some of their children returned to them from foster care. Visits from the children are an especially emotional event in the residence.

On a recent morning, Laura took over a vacant meeting room to prepare for a visit from her son, 7, and daughter, 5. Laura laid a blanket on the floor and covered it with small toys she had found in boxes of items donated to the program. Carefully, she placed each toy in position, turning them so they would look their best when her children saw them.

It worked. The little boy and girl squealed in delight as they picked up each item, talking nonstop as they showed them to their mother and each other. Laura plunged right in and played with them.

Just, the project director, came by to watch from a distance.

“This is the part of the program,” she said, “that the people in Washington don’t see.”