Dear Parents:

If you are reading this letter, then you are in a situation in which I found myself in December of 2003. Circumstances, whatever they may be, have resulted in your child or children being sheltered from you in a Foster program. If the first thing you think of when you awake, and the last thing you think of before you sleep is your child(ren), and if throughout the day your stomach is in knots and you feel mixed emotions of sadness, anger, fear and rage, then you should read this letter. I encourage you to read this letter.

What happened

I was 42 years old when I found out I was pregnant. My son was not an accident, he was a surprise! I did find myself unemployed and without insurance, so I went to the Department of Health with my boyfriend to apply for Medicaid so that I could see a doctor. Two months prior, I had a miscarriage. I would never have imagined that only one of the twins I was carrying had miscarried. I was unaware at that time that women in their 40’s were prone to having multiple births because their bodies produce multiple eggs in an effort to get pregnant before menopause. So, here I was, almost 5 months pregnant and had yet to see a doctor. I had no idea what was in store for me,and how the events that were about to unfold would change my life.

While at the Department of Health, my water broke. Go figure. They processed me as fast as they could and sent me to the nearest hospital. Upon arrival, I was asked who my prenatal doctor was, but, of course, I didn’t have one yet. As it turned out, I was 26 weeks pregnant and I was admitted into the hospital. I was told I wouldn’t be leaving until I gave birth. You can’t imagine the implications of a potential 3-1/2 month stay in the hospital when I had so much to do. But in the middle of the night on my first night, a doctor entered my room. He gave me the most disturbing news of all: because I had no prenatal care, I had been drug screened and tested positive for cocaine. If my son was born positive, DCF would be involved. If not, everything would be fine. It was at that moment the embarrassment and denial took over completely. How could I ever admit to using cocaine while I was pregnant with my son? That would mean I had already failed at being a good mom. I’ll tell you now that my son tested negative for cocaine. But the doctor was wrong. Because I tested positive while pregnant, DCF would be involve.