Kathleen Mitchell is Vice President and International Spokesperson for
The National Organization on Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (NOFAS). July 20th, 2009.
Who knew that drinking a "little wine" now and then when I was pregnant back in 1972 would cause my daughter to have lifelong brain damage? Certainly, not me. I mean, alcohol was just about the only legal drug I used back in those days. I went to rock and roll concerts, smoked pot, dropped Purple Haze acid and drank Boones Farm Apple wine. Alcohol was like the magic potion that made me suddenly thin, sexy and pretty
Growing up in an alcoholic family, my view of alcohol was quite warped. Alcohol, especially beer and wine, was in the food group, along with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. By the time I was in middle school I was drinking every weekend. My memories of the tenth grade consist of cutting class and daily alcohol and other drug use. I began to experience frequent black outs so it was no surprise that I ended up pregnant, and dropping out of school. I married the father of my baby; he was cute and had long hair. As soon as I discovered I was pregnant, I stopped "partying", and got clean-I was a good mommy. Unfortunately, no one yet understood that alcohol was a teratogen that could cause cell death and result in permanent birth defects. So, during pregnancy I ate my veggie-burgers, made my macramé hemp plant holders, and went to my prenatal care appointments at the “free-clinic” for welfare moms-oh and drank wine.
I had a blond haired, blue eyed little boy! He was perfect, just beautiful! Life progressed further and so did my alcoholism. When my son was nine months old, I found myself pregnant again. In 1972 being barefoot and pregnant at seventeen was not that bad of a lifestyle. We were hippies, and material things were not on the priority list, drugs were. Karli was born in 1973, ironically the year that Smith and Jones coined the term Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (FAS). I had Karli in a high risk clinic for welfare moms. The doctor handed me my six pound baby girl, perfectly healthy!
Karli had surgery for a double hernia at six weeks of age. About that time she developed an ear infection. That ear infection (otitis media) lasted for three years; no anti-biotic seemed to work for her. I was told by her pediatrician that she had colic due to allergies. For years her doctors told me that her ear problems had caused her to be slightly delayed, but reassured me that she would grow out of it. I had no clue that alcohol was the culprit. So I continued to drink in subsequent pregnancies. After Karli I had another little girl, she was beautiful, fat and happy. I loved my children so very much, and was convinced I was the worlds best Mommy. My only goal in life at that time was to be the best Mommy I could be.
I left my husband, because of his drug use. His addiction prevented me from seeing my own addiction. I spent all of the years I was with him, focused on his use and trying to change him. It did not take me long to find another man whose life was crippled by alcoholism. He became husband number two. My life rapidly spiraled in a downward direction. Evictions, broken cars, homelessness, and desperation became a normal state. I would promise my children that Mommy would not drink or eat pills, and everyday, I broke my promise. My addiction had taken me into a world that I knew was wrong, but I could not stop; the compulsion to use and the physical withdrawal would win every time. I overdosed several times, and was
miraculously saved by family members and hospitals.
When I found myself pregnant the forth time, I somehow thought that the pregnancy would fix me. “This is a good thing, this will force me to keep things together and to be a better mom,” I would tell myself. I had tried over and over to get clean. When I went for professional help, I was told that I would need to be on narcotics the rest of my life. They enrolled me in the maintenance methadone program where they treat addicts with a daily dose of a synthetic narcotic. I drank cheap wine, probably everyday, and I smoked. I went into labor about 2 months early. I gave birth to my son and I said goodbye to my son the day he was born. He was too small, his lungs were not developed.
I was the world’s biggest victim; life had been harsh to me. Poor me, poor me.. Pour me a drink, as they say in Alcoholics Anonymous (AA). I had lost everything, and actually looking back, I had never had much to begin with. Alcohol had robbed me of most of life’s rewards. But, I did have my three beautiful children. They were the only thing that mattered in life. About a year after my son died, I became pregnant again. I was scared to death to have a second baby while on methadone. The methadone treatment required that you stay on the drug if you became pregnant. I was afraid; I had already buried a son. I went to a university hospital in Washington, D.C. and walked into the office of an obstetrician. I begged him to talk with me and give me advice. My desperation came through loud and clear, and he talked with me. We made a deal, he would provide me with free care and I would allow him to discuss my case history with his students.
I went to all of my appointments, I loved this doctor. I continued to drink, and to smoke cigarettes. He tried to convince me to stop smoking, and I did try often and even managed to cut down. He never asked me about my alcohol use. In February of 1982 I gave birth to a gorgeous baby girl! She was like a ray of sunshine on a dark gloomy day. Laughter had come back into the lives of my children and me. I had quit going to the methadone clinic (abruptly) and I was trying to detox myself at home using pills and booze. My sweet little 10 your old son had become the parent and he tried his best to take care of me and his sisters. After 2 months of painful withdrawal from the methadone, I was finally beginning to get strength back. But, just when hope had arrived, our entire world came crashing around us. One sunny April afternoon, I entered my baby’s room, and found her lifeless body lying in her crib. I went into severe shock, and many of the memories of that day remain foggy. An autopsy finding later reported that my daughter died of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome (SIDS).
I had a very strong internal nudge the day I became pregnant with my daughter, that she was going to significantly change our lives. Her birth and sudden death miraculously altered life as we knew it for my children and me. My father had just completed a thirty-day stay in an addiction treatment center, and was in early recovery the day my daughter passed away. He understood that I was suffering from alcoholism, not just a rebellious nature. Eventually he convinced me to admit myself into treatment for my addiction. Although it took one thirty day stay in treatment and another ten month stay in a therapeutic residential center, I finally surrendered! I was indeed an alcoholic. Sure, my diagnosis read “heroin addict” on my admitting papers, but there was no doubt about it. It all began with alcohol, and the drug use just went hand in hand with the alcohol.
How could a person who puts needles in their arms not understand that she is an addict? They teach you in 12 step recovery that addiction is cunning, baffling and powerful. I look back over my years of addiction and wonder why none of the doctors, nurses, or social workers (not even child protective service workers!) ever addressed my addiction. Did they avoid the question because they were afraid of the answer? Did they believe that I was a hopeless case, or just not worth the trouble? Did they not ask about my alcohol use because they were so focused on the drugs? Were they that ill-informed about addiction, or did they believe there was no treatment available so why bother? I believe it may have been a little of each.
My daughter, Karli, continues to pay the tab for those years of addiction. She has a lifelong disability, fetal alcohol syndrome (FAS). At 36 years of age she still lives at home and plays with her collection of baby dolls and sticker books. Her brain is forever impaired because I drank wine occasionally while pregnant with her. Karli was not diagnosed with FAS until she was 16 years old. She probably would never have been diagnosed if I had not figured out that alcohol had caused her delays and brought it to the attention of her physicians. My alcohol use also was the reason for the deaths of my last two children.
Through divine intervention I found my way from a life of addiction to a life in recovery. Today my life is happy, joyous and free. Recovery has brought me many blessings including five beautiful grandchildren. I am grateful to know that not one of those babies was prenatally exposed to alcohol-what a miracle! I managed to obtain a master’s degree and actually contribute to society. I am the vice-president and national spokesperson for the National Organization on Fetal Alcohol Syndrome (NOFAS). It has been over 25 years since my last drink or drug and it saddens my heart to know that women are not being clearly informed about the facts on drinking during pregnancy.
In 2005 the United States surgeon general re-issued the warnings regarding the use of alcohol during pregnancy. “There is no known safe level of alcohol during pregnancy,” and if a woman is pregnant “she should stop to avoid further risks on the developing fetus.” Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorders (FASD) are preventable lifelong disabilities. While pregnant, there is no safe amount of alcohol, no safe time to drink alcohol, and no safe type of alcohol. And if you don’t believe me just ask Karli.
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