“I am here to rebuild my life”

At the George Rosenfeld Center for Recovery dedication ceremony, Amy, a 29-year-old Family Center client spoke about her experience at Odyssey House. Below is the text of her speech.

Mother opioid recoveryGood morning, my name is Amy. I am 29 years of age. I am the mother of a beautiful 1-year-old girl. I am here to rebuild my life for both of us.

At 22 I didn’t see my life being taken down by a medication that was supposed to help me. I had just graduated from an excellent college with a degree in psychology and sociology. My future was ahead of me and it looked bright.

Soon after I graduated college, I developed some health issues that needed surgery.  The procedures were routine and I expected to make a full recovery. Little did I know then, this would be a turning point in my life.

While I was recovering from surgery, I was given opiates to manage the pain and help me recover.  They did that and I definitely needed them.  What happened next was so fast I didn’t see it coming – soon I was dependent on opioids for more than just physical pain – they had become my emotional support. I was addicted.

Life quickly became a wild ride of juggling jobs, losing jobs, going into short-term rehab, getting out and doing the same thing again. Each time my addiction got more serious and more damaging. I lost sight of myself, of my values, and I hurt and disappointed my family.

Within a few short painful years, I started using heroin. Heroin took over my life completely. Everything I did, every day, was to support my growing habit. Eventually, this led to an arrest and I was sitting in jail in full withdrawal. It was one of the worst experiences of my life. It was also a life-changer.

I was fortunate that my family was still willing to help me get treatment – and I needed it more than ever. Shortly after I left, I found out I was pregnant.

After speaking to countless medical professionals, I understood the only way I was going to have a healthy baby and get off heroin safely was with medication. That medication is methadone. My daughter was born with methadone in her system but she was also born 7lbs and healthy. She stayed in the hospital for a month while they weaned her off. It wasn’t easy watching her go through the pain of withdrawal, but the doctors and nurses got both of us through it. I am so grateful to them.

I am also grateful to Odyssey House and its program for women with children. It is saving my life and giving us a future. For the first time in a long time, I am incredibly hopeful, and that is because of this program. I am so thankful to be talking to all of you today on this important occasion. Thank you for supporting me, for supporting Odyssey House, and caring about the young mothers who are here now and those who will be here after me.

Thank you.

“Creating a place of sanctuary”

More than 200 people came out to Ward’s Island on a beautiful spring day for the George Rosenfeld Center for Recovery (GRCR) dedication ceremony. The 231-bed residential complex opens following a major restoration undertaken in partnership with New York State Office of Alcoholism and Substance Abuse Services (OASAS). The renovation project reclaimed and enhanced the original historic structure, built in 1915 as a hospital for psychiatric patients, to create a modern family treatment center for women, parents with young children, and adults 55 years of age and older.

“The story of this 100-year-old building is one of realizing potential, learning from the past, and creating a new place of sanctuary and healing,” said Odyssey House President Dr. Peter Provet at the dedication ceremony. “Its story, like those of the people who come here for help with substance abuse and related problems, is also a symbol of endurance and overcoming the odds.”

The GRCR is named in honor of George Rosenfeld, who for more than two decades has helped lead – and shape – Odyssey House. His visionary and compassionate public service leadership as Chairman of Odyssey House (2002-2012) and then as Chairman of Odyssey Foundation has helped save the lives of thousands of vulnerable men, women, and children suffering from substance abuse and mental health disorders.

Visit our Facebook page to see more photos from the ceremony!

 

George Rosenfeld“Here was a building … that could be renovated and rehabilitated to house those most in need of rebuilding their own lives and setting a better course for their children.” -George Rosenfeld

 

In just one week…

THE GRAND OPENING OF THE GEORGE ROSENFELD CENTER IS ONLY ONE WEEK AWAY!

We invite you to join us on Thursday, May 11th to celebrate the grand opening, tour the campus, and learn more about the services we offer. Click here for more information and to register. See below for directions.

The George Rosenfeld Center for Recovery (GRCR) is a residential behavioral health treatment center for women, families, and older adults located on Wards Island. Since 1967, Odyssey House has established a strong tradition of providing a place of sanctuary for clients and families to focus on overcoming addiction, develop coping skills, and build lifelong recovery.

In keeping with this tradition, and the treatment services offered throughout the Odyssey House system, residential care at GRCR embraces a holistic continuum of evidence-based behavioral health care, including medication-assisted treatment; counseling, group therapy, and case management services; educational and vocational training; and peer-supported recovery and housing programs.

 

Directions to the George Rosenfeld Center for Recovery

By public transportation: Take the Lexington Avenue 4/5/6 to 125th Street and transfer to the M35 bus at 125th Street and Lexington Avenue (in front of Duane Reade). Download the bus schedule here.

By car: All vehicular access is via the RFK Triborough Bridge. Once on the Queens-bound leg of the RFK Triborough Bridge, stay to the far right and follow signs to Randall’s Island.

If navigating with Google Maps, please use “13 Hells Gate Circle, New York, NY 10035″ as your destination or click here for the GPS coordinates. MTA Bridges & Tunnels charge a toll of $8.50 to access the Island, but there is no toll upon exiting.

Download maps of our location and parking areas.

By foot: The 103rd Street Footbridge in Manhattan is open to pedestrians and cyclists 365 days per year, 24 hours per day, and connects the East River Esplanade/FDR Drive at 103rd Street with the southern end of Randall’s Island Park.

An advocate for recovery sees dream realized

In celebration of our 50th anniversary, each month we have been sharing a personal story that highlights one of our programs or treatment populations. This month, as we conclude our anniversary profiles and prepare for the opening of the George Rosenfeld Center for Recovery, we are highlighting a very special member of our family: Odyssey Foundation Chairman Mr. George Rosenfeld. George is a tireless advocate for vulnerable New Yorkers who turn to us for help with substance abuse and mental health problems.

Addicton recovery advocateFor more than two decades, George Rosenfeld has helped lead and shape Odyssey House. His visionary and compassionate public service leadership as Chairman of Odyssey House (2002–2012) and then as Chairman of Odyssey Foundation has helped save the lives of thousands of men and women suffering from substance use and mental health disorders.

An advocate for the care and well-being of elderly substance abusers, his far-sighted recognition of their distinct needs led to the founding of the Odyssey House ElderCare Program and its permanent home at our newly renovated family treatment center on Ward’s Island in Upper Manhattan — a center we are proud to name the George Rosenfeld Center for Recovery.

We are immensely fortunate and grateful that George chose to join the cause at Odyssey House. He has donated his time and resources to those who often have few friends and allies as they struggle to overcome addiction and mental health challenges.

We cannot imagine a kinder, more thoughtful, or more compassionate leader. He is the cheerleader of cheerleaders. He has guided us through challenges and prepared us to make the most of opportunities to do more for the people we serve, and to do it better.

As we prepare to open the 231-bed residential treatment center for women, mothers with children, and older adults, we asked George to share with us how his commitment to public service evolved into championing the cause of underserved and stigmatized substance abusers:

 

Before I joined Odyssey House I had been closely involved in developing a hospice for AIDS patients, Rivington House in New York’s Lower East Side, which opened in 1993 at the height of the epidemic. Once the hospice opened and I felt that the project was in good hands, I was inspired to look further afield for other causes I could get involved with.

It didn’t take long. I heard a testimony at a New York City Council meeting, which gave statistics on the number of people in NYC addicted to drugs and alcohol and talked about an organization that was making a dent in these numbers — Odyssey House.

I wanted to hear more, and in 1997 I was introduced to the organization, met with the board, and they invited me to join them.

Early in my role as board member I visited Odyssey House’s treatment centers in New York City. One facility in particular captured my interest, a 100-year-old semi-abandoned former psychiatric hospital perched on a small hill practically underneath the Triborough Bridge. The facility was located on Ward’s Island — a veritable no-man’s land on the East River between East Harlem, The Bronx, and Queens — that is also home to Manhattan Psychiatric Center and other social service agencies.

Despite the dilapidated state of much of the building, the center I visited that day was a thriving treatment community where Odyssey House cared for a variety of recovering substance abusers, including women mandated by family courts, many of whom were pregnant, or caring for young children. At this center (known then as the MABON for Mothers And Babies Off Narcotics since its founding in 1973), Odyssey House not only provided essential shelter and therapy for women who were vulnerable and often abused, but it also cared for their babies and toddlers. When I saw the babies asleep in their cribs next to their moms, I knew I had joined a very special organization.

It was my dream to someday persuade the State of New York to help us renovate the entire building and provide this service to more young families. It took 20 years, but today that dream has come true.

I couldn’t be prouder of Odyssey House and more grateful to our many supporters who made this dream a reality.

 

Odyssey House shares George’s pride in this new family center, GRCR, which brings together elders, women, and mothers with young children and establishes a multigenerational community dedicated to forging a healthy future together.

Wellness services for women and seniors

At the George Rosenfeld Center for Recovery (GRCR), women and older adults live and learn in a peer-driven environment that provides family-like structure and support. Supervised by a caring team of counselors, teachers, and health care personnel, clients receive the individualized support and attention they need to live a healthy life—free of drugs and alcohol.

Once clients complete our residential program, we work with them to find transitional or permanent housing, stay connected to an Odyssey House peer support group, and access outpatient services. The continuum of care services help women and older adults develop sustainable connections and maintain their recovery.

TREATMENT SERVICES FOR WOMEN

Mother addiction recoveryHelping women and families rebuild their lives is a priority. Our gender-specific treatment programs for women (including pregnant women and mothers caring for young children) feature a range of services that strengthen the family unit while supporting individual recovery.

For women with children, the GRCR features a Department of Health-licensed early educational center capable of providing services to children up to 6 years old.  The center has five classrooms, two of which offer Early Head Start Services through a collaboration with Northside Center for Child Development, a playroom, and a library.

Learn more about the range of comprehensive recovery services for women.

TREATMENT SERVICES FOR OLDER ADULTS

We created the Odyssey House ElderCare Program to address the behavioral health care needs of men and women 55 years old and older. Older adults with substance use disorders often face unique challenges. Some of our clients have tried to hide their addiction their whole lives. Others turned to drugs or alcohol in the face of later-life challenges—from losing jobs or spouses to dealing with the physical pain and loneliness of getting older.

However their lives got off track, Odyssey House helps older people find a better way forward. As part of our ElderCare residential program at the GRCR, clients live and work with older New Yorkers who have said enough is enough. Family members are encouraged to participate in group sessions, seminars, and other therapeutic activities to help rebuild relationships.

Learn more about the range of comprehensive recovery services for seniors.

Opening soon: The George Rosenfeld Center for Recovery

WELLNESS SERVICES FOR WOMEN & OLDER ADULTS

 

Recovery happens in a dignified setting

The George Rosenfeld Center for Recovery (GRCR) is a multi-generational behavioral health treatment center with a focus on intensive substance abuse services for women and older adults. The 231-bed residential complex is located on Wards Island, within a 480-acre city park that, conjoined with Randall’s Island, lies in the East River between East Harlem, the South Bronx and Astoria, Queens.

The GRCR officially opens in spring 2017 following a major restoration undertaken in partnership with New York State Office of Alcoholism and Substance Abuse Services (OASAS). The renovation project reclaimed and enhanced the original historic structure, built in 1915 as a hospital for psychiatric patients, to create a modern family treatment center for women and children and older adults 55 years of age and older.

In keeping with treatment services offered throughout the Odyssey House system, residential care at GRCR embraces a holistic continuum of evidence-based behavioral health care. Individually developed treatment plans incorporate a range of services including medication-assisted treatment; counseling, group therapy, and case management services; educational and vocational training; and peer-supported recovery and housing programs.

 

Just as everyone’s life journey is different, so is finding the best path to recovery.

Odyssey House has a strong tradition of providing a place of sanctuary for clients and families to focus on overcoming addiction, develop coping skills, and build lifelong recovery. And because everyone has different needs, we personalize our residential and outpatient treatment programs to each person who walks through our doors.

We believe that integrated behavioral health care—a holistic form of treatment that addresses physical, psychiatric, social, and spiritual well-being, as well as family relationships and education—is the most effective approach to achieving a healthy recovery.

A safe and supportive environment is a fundamental part of the treatment experience. Residents are encouraged to relate to others and foster a feeling of safety that helps them focus on their recovery and learn about their addiction. An environment that reflects respect and dignity helps clients engage in their community and reduces feelings of institutionalization that can inhibit individual growth and learning.

Breaking the cycle of addiction, one family at a time

In celebration of our 50th anniversary, each month we will be sharing a story that highlights one of our programs or treatment populations. This month we are highlighting our Early Educational Center.

Moms battling drug and alcohol addiction often face a tough choice: taking care of themselves or taking care of their children. At Odyssey House, they don’t have to make that choice, because pregnant women and parents with children can stay together, helping to build stronger families.

Mothers addiction treatment family servicesIn mid-2016, Jacqueline, 36, pregnant with her third child, nearly had to make that choice. Unable to find a program that could help her in her hometown of Boston, and desperate to get sober, Jacqueline came to New York and began treatment at Odyssey House.

Like other parents in our program, Jacqueline is learning to create a nurturing relationship with her son while addressing a wide array of issues, including managing emotional stress, tackling medical and mental health issues, and identifying safe and secure housing.

While Jacqueline engages in clinical services, our Early Educational Center focuses on assisting children like her son in reaching their full developmental potential in five on-site, licensed daycare and preschool classrooms, serving children from two months to six years of age. “The teachers are wonderful,” says Jacqueline. “They’re great with the kids and very hands-on. It’s reassuring to know that my son is safe and in good hands while I’m in group sessions.”

Being in treatment with her son keeps Jacqueline focused on her recovery. “Having my son with me is so motivating. I’m not sure I could do it without him – thinking about him all the time would be too distracting,” she says. “But here I can work through my issues and work towards my goals, so I can be the best mother I can be. I wasn’t able to raise my two older kids, and I don’t want to lose the chance to raise him too.”

Through the Family Center of Excellence, Odyssey House strives to break the cycle of addiction one family at a time.

Surviving and Thriving

New York Newsday By Jeff Pearlman

Three young women who have learned, at last, how to be good – make that great mothers

melanie1.jpgThe moment Mabel McCormick hit rock bottom occurred exactly 27 months ago, on a frigid February evening when nothing absolutely, positively nothing would go right. Throughout the years, the then-23-year-old Brooklyn native had experienced her share of lowly times, from becoming pregnant at 15 to dropping out of high school to being evicted from her mother’s home to discovering unfamiliar hickeys up and down her husband’s neck. Miraculously, she survived each setback. With tears and heartache, yes. But she survived.

Now, however, it was all too much. Pregnant, homeless and unable to afford a baby-sitter for her second child, Jeffrey, a rambunctious 3-year-old whom nobody in the neighborhood was willing to watch, Mabel dragged him to a prayer group at the home of an elderly couple. As she began to mingle with other adults, Mabel looked across the room and spotted Jeffrey taking video cassettes from a cabinet and stuffing them forcefully into the VCR.

“JEFFREY, STOP THAT!”

“JEFFREY! THAT ISN’T OUR STUFF!”

It was no use. Jeffrey was on a tear. Tired of the tapes, he picked up a nearby guitar and POW slammed it into the ground. The noise was deafening. “It was the most humiliating moment of my life,” Mabel says. Eventually, as everyone bowed their heads in prayer, she grabbed her son by the arm and quickly left the apartment, never to return.

For the next 20 minutes, mother and son waited for the B63 at the bus stop on the corner of Bay Ridge and Fifth avenues. When it finally arrived, Jeffrey irrationally bolted down the street like a deer chased by a cougar. By the time Mabel tracked him down, the bus was long gone. The two could either wait another half hour, or hike the 40 blocks. “I sat him on the bench and walked away,” Mabel says. “I was crying and crying, just overwhelmed. I left him there. Simply left him there….”

As she speaks, Mabel’s eyes glaze and her voice trails off. Normally bubbly, with a melodic Betty Boop pitch, her words come listlessly. It is hard to talk about, she admits, because it brings back memories of a person she never particularly liked or respected. Guilt forced her to turn around and retrieve her son, but that’s hardly the point. “That was my lowest point as a mother,” she says. “I never want to get back there again. Never.”

* * *

Mabel McCormick never has gone back. Never. Right around the time of the bus incident, with nowhere else to turn, she began attending parenting counseling at Family Reception Center, a well-regarded social service agency in Brooklyn.

Many of the discussions centered on frustration. Mabel cherished her children. But, quite frankly, they drove her bananas. “Talking about being a better mom was soooo important,” she says. “You can’t be ready for everything when you’re so young, and I never got a real education on how to raise kids. I needed it.” Although she does not easily admit so much, once upon a time Mabel was flat out a bad mother. Not malicious and certainly not abusive. Just unprepared and overwhelmed. That’s what happens when you’re a sophomore at Franklin D. Roosevelt High School in Sunset Park and you don’t use a condom; when morning sickness is so crippling that it forces you to stay home instead of attending classes; when your mother, who once, looking at your high grades and limitless future, called you “My hope,” kicks you out of the house with nowhere else to go; when you’re just happy to have a warm floor to sleep on; when the father of your three children lies, cheats and on Mother’s Day 2000, of all days tells you he wants a divorce.

She is 25 years old now, a full-time secretary at Anchor House, a Brooklyn drug rehabilitation program, with a GED and plans to attend college and become a teacher. Two months ago, she married Michael McCormick, an Anchor House counselor who often marvels at how Mabel has bounced back from so many hammerings. Most impressive, she has become Supermom. The woman who once almost ditched her son at a bus stop now calmly, coolly forces him to take a time out when he climbs under the table during lunch at Pizzeria Uno on a recent Saturday afternoon. The woman whose mother gave her the boot smothers her children in kisses and promises swears, even “I will never, ever, ever abandon my kids that way.” When she wakes up for Mother’s Day this Sunday, Mabel will be greeted by a husband with designs on cooking her a full-course dinner that night. Her children 8-year-old Chassity, Jeffrey, 5, and Josef, 2 will surely coat her with hugs and I LOVE YOUs, as they commonly do.

To Mabel, as well as countless mothers in similar positions, Mother’s Day is not simply another Hallmark-produced excuse to buy chocolate and roses and drop $150 on a snazzy dinner. No, it is a celebration of achievement. Of survival. Of entering motherhood as an unprepared teenage ignoramus and against the odds excelling.

“People don’t always understand the struggle these women go through,” says Dave Gregorio, director of Covenant House’s Rights of Passage program. “Bad childhoods, bad men, low self-esteem. The real mark of success for the mothers we see isn’t getting a job or finding a good partner. It’s doing those things, and having your child thrive. If you can do that, you can do anything. Absolutely anything.”

Gregorio pauses. “But it’s not easy.”

***

Because The Box was darker than the blackest of nights, Melanie does not remember seeing the creatures sneak around her space, scavenging for food or skin to nibble on. But the sounds how can she forget?Eeek, eeek, eeek.
What is that?
Scratch, scratch, scratch.
What the hell is that!?
Eeek, eeek. Scratch, scratch.
God … God! Help me, God!

As Melanie huddled in the corner of The Box a 10-by-10-foot isolation chamber with a tiny hole for oxygen her imagination went crazy. There were monsters. Big monsters. Monsters that sucked brains and crushed hearts. Monsters that wanted to kill her. Yeah, she shouldn’t have been dealing heroin. And yeah, it was a mistake to drive a large shipment from New York to Pennsylvania – a federal offense. But the penalty was severe five to 15 years at Monroe County Prison, one of Pennsylvania’s toughest. And then 30 days in The Box, the ruthless punishment for fighting.

Eeek, eeek, eeek.

That noise. That horrible noise. Melanie did anything she could to drown it out. Sing. Hum. Mostly, think. She replayed the details of her life, usually beginning with that day eight years earlier, when she returned from high school to an empty house and a note on the kitchen table. Her father had raised Melanie and her younger brother in Flushing from as far back as she could remember, and now … this?

Dear Kids:
Sorry, but I’m leaving.
Dad

Sure, there was more to the note. But not much more. Melanie was 15 years old, and suddenly the head of the household. There were no nearby relatives to turn to, and she knew the perils of foster care. So Melanie did what Melanie needed to do: She sold drugs. At first, marijuana. Then cocaine, ecstasy and heroin. She was making $300 a day, $1,200 on weekends, driving a sweet car and attracting the most handsome neighborhood men.

Then she was busted.

A couple of days after entering Monroe County, Melanie, 23 at the time, took a blood test and learned that she was pregnant with her second child. (Her son Anthony, who lives with his father, was born when she was 18.) “I cried, because I knew I’d lose her,” says Melanie, who requested that her last name not be used. “It was the first time I felt real responsibility as a parent. I begged for anything – probation, work … anything to keep me with my daughter.” Following seven horrific months at Monroe County, Melanie was transferred to Rikers Island, where her daughter, Stephanie, was born.

Eight months later, Melanie’s life began anew. A judge agreed to send her and Stephanie to the Harlem-based Odyssey House, a drug treatment and mental health housing facility, and New York State’s largest residential mother-and-child program. At Odyssey House, the women engage in job-training programs, vocational counseling and most vital for Melanie parenting classes. “When people come here, a lot of them don’t understand that when a baby cries, the child needs something,” says Peter Provet, Odyssey House’s president. “Or when a baby should be fed. Or changed. It’s all a mystery.”

Such was the case with Melanie, who used to leave her baby son for hours to make drug deliveries. After completing Odyssey’s 10-week parenting skills course, she handles Stephanie with the confidence and dexterity of a veteran baby nurse.

On the facility’s colorful playground, Melanie coos constantly at her daughter a beautiful girl with cafe au lait skin and an infectious giggle. “Get the ball! Go on, get the ball!”

Game but confused, Stephanie darts for the nearest tricycle. Her mother cracks up.melanie2.jpg

“Now that I look back, I’m ashamed of the mother I was,” says Melanie, who is looking for a secretarial job to take upon graduating from the program in two months. “I’d let my son do whatever he wanted, and I didn’t care. It was pathetic.” Now, she visits her son on weekends and revels in her daughter’s progress. “To me, the best satisfaction comes from seeing her grow, and knowing I’m responsible.”

***

Were parenting skills somehow tied to bowling ability, Shaunette Morris would be a superstar. While attending George W. Wingate High School in the Crown Heights section of Brooklyn in the late ’90s, Shaunette was a hotshot on the bowling team, once rolling a 230 and often hitting the 190s. “I was pretty good,” she says with a sly smile. “I threw a couple of strikes every so often.”

Then the 17-year-old senior with good grades and college aspirations got pregnant and gave birth to her daughter, Makeda. It was a theme heard way too often in the social work arena the adolescent girl’s quest for love. “My mom and I were going through some problems,” says Shaunette, now 23. “I thought if I had a baby, I’d have someone to need me.” She pauses, awkwardly. “Sounds silly,” she says. “But back then….”

Things did not go as planned. Shaunette’s mother kicked her out of the house, and on Aug. 26, 1998, she moved to a youth shelter operated by Covenant House, where the mission is to provide room and board, child-care and life skills to homeless youth. Makeda, now a happy-go-lucky 5-year-old with a pet goldfish and her mother’s smile, struggled from the get-go, speaking only on rare occasions and routinely fighting for Mom’s attention by acting out. When her daughter misbehaved, Shaunette held back, fearful of providing excessive discipline. “You’re young and stupid,” she says reflectively. “You have no idea what’s going on.”

Like Mabel and Melanie, Shaunette turned to education. She was paired with a mentor who offered nonstop child-care advice, and she received a great deal of one-on-one parenting guidance from the Covenant House staff. Slowly but surely, with more encouragement and increased interaction, Makeda began to open up. She laughed and smiled more. Even responded positively to discipline. “I’ve always loved her so much,” says Shaunette, sitting cross-legged on the floor of her two-bedroom apartment. “It made me happy to see her having more fun in life.”

During her early days at the shelter, Shaunette began working at Ezekiel’s, a restaurant Covenant House owns and operates (as a training center) in the West Village. One could make the case that Shaunette’s bread pudding is the city’s finest. In two months, she is scheduled to graduate from the New York Restaurant School. Mother and daughter live together in an apartment in Crown Heights. The dream for herself is to start her own restaurant; for Makeda, to make sure she studies hard and attends college and doesn’t make the same mistakes her mother did.

“Sometimes, someone will ask Makeda what she wants to be when she’s older,” says Shaunette. “And she’ll say, ‘I want to be just like Mommy.’ That makes me feel special. Like every day is Mother’s Day.”

Copyright (c) 2003, Newsday, Inc.

 

Residential Drug Treatment for Mothers Shows More Promise Than the War on Drugs

The American Prospect Online By Melissa Paige McNamara

Brandy was crawling on the floor near her mother’s feet, dressed in her new denim jumper with tightly braided pigtails framing her dimpled face. Her smile hid any sign that in her nine months, Brandy has already been to jail, to a methadone clinic, and shuttled between three homes.

Brandy was just four months old when her mother, Cheryl, checked into Odyssey House. (Both names are pseudonyms.) Thirty-six years old and African-American, Cheryl was typical in age and race to the other Odyssey House mothers. And, like most of the mothers in Odyssey House’s Mother and Child program, Cheryl resisted treatment until she had little choice.

Cheryl was a mother and a department store saleswoman “making good money and never missing work” before her boyfriend encouraged her to smoke heroin “to escape, for fun.” But soon, her escape had her traveling after work in Queens to Starrett City, Brooklyn, just to get a fix. When Cheryl was arrested for selling heroin to an undercover police officer, she was high and pregnant with Brandy. The judge, a mother herself, was so angry that Cheryl had endangered her unborn child with drugs that she had little mercy and sent her directly to jail. After spending 24 hours in a Brooklyn detention center on one meal a day, without her children, Cheryl returned to court pleading for an alternative. The judge sent her to Odyssey House where she would be able to keep her daughter with her after she was born.

Nationwide, there are a half-million children like Brandy out there, born to drug and alcohol-using mothers. Few of them are fortunate enough to find their way to Odyssey House, a residential facility where most of the mothers are recovering from years of heroin, crack, or alcohol abuse. Facilities like Odyssey House seem an effective way to deal with drug-addicted mothers and their children, but instead, increasing numbers of mothers with children are winding up in detention centers. There aren’t nearly enough residential centers to treat this growing population of women, and even if there were, it’s unclear how many women would voluntarily seek them out.

One thing remains certain: The financial cost to society and the emotional toll children bear is too great not to explore alternative ways to treat this population. It costs upwards of $60,000 per year to jail a person on New York’s Rikers Island; foster care for an inmate’s child can add another $20,000 to the bill. By comparison, residential treatment centers cost an estimated $26,000 per person, per year. A recently instituted program in Arizona has saved that state an estimated $2.5 million a year by diverting non-violent drug offenders into mandatory drug treatment; the program’s success rate one year after treatment is just over 60 percent. There are many more benefits, financial and otherwise, that such programs cultivate: fewer prisons, less addiction-motivated crime, more stable children, and a lighter burden on the health care system. Prisons offer little such hope.

The narrow hallways on the third floor of Odyssey House are lined with rooms neatly stacked with Fisher Price plastic toys, rag dolls, and baby bottles. The arrangement resembles a college dormitory, only cleaner and more organized. A crib and twin bed fit neatly in the bedrooms, which are connected by a common room for mothers in treatment to sleep with their babies. A baby’s cries draw attention to a pale green room where small shoes line the windowpane. A mother cradles her baby, singing quietly. The serenity of pastel-colored walls, smells of baby powder, and baby photos provide a sharp contrast to the dangerous situations many of the women and children have recently escaped.

Odyssey House is a 662-bed temporary home for women addicted to drugs or alcohol who want to become sober. Located on East 121st Street, a desolate block in Spanish Harlem, Odyssey House’s neatly manicured appearance stands out. Surrounded by vacant buildings that were once crack houses, Odyssey House is one of a handful of drug treatment centers that houses its patients, half of whom are women who arrive pregnant or with small children.

Odyssey House is a therapeutic community that offers a specific type of treatment that conquers addiction through a strict “tough love” philosophy. This philosophy makes residents accountable for their own behavior as well as for the actions of their peers. Advocates of therapeutic treatment claim the structured atmosphere provides residents with the type of environment many never experienced growing up. “Some of these women did things whenever they wanted before they came here, like feeding their children whenever,” says a counselor there. These programs can be effective because they don’t give the residents a choice of how to schedule their day.

This atmosphere makes it an unpleasant and confrontational place to be at times, residents – and even some supervisors – concede. Residents are required to tell a supervisor if they see “inappropriate actions” in the house, an Odyssey House counselor said. Inappropriate actions range from drug use to concealing a romantic relationship. Some psychologists believe having to report fellow residents erodes the trust these women are just learning.

But program advocates believe the strict structure is key to building the most important trusting relationship – between mother and child. Odyssey House mandates eight weeks of bonding sessions between mothers and their children, in which mothers hold their children and play with them for hours. Many of the children suffer emotional trauma from the neglect they endured while their mothers got high. “The mothers never properly bonded with their children, who they rarely held,” Cecila Scott, Director of Family Services says.

“I put so much time into getting high that I didn’t see what was happening with my own son,” Cheryl says. She blames herself for her son’s troubles, which landed him in a juvenile detention center. “I would disappear overnight, sometimes for days,” she admits.

To ensure mothers develop strong parenting skills, Odyssey House provides them with nutrition, parenting and child development classes. Their counseling sessions address issues ranging from self-esteem and depression, to pregnancy and postpartum therapy. While the women are in treatment, children attend the Child Development Center from 9am-5pm, where staff are trained to work with children who may have been exposed to drugs prenatally or who have the emotional deficiencies that children are likely to experience when their mother abuses drugs. Children five and older attend public school nearby.

At one Odyssey House parenting skills session, the counselor asked clients to describe their childhood, pretending they are guests on Oprah. Mecca, a resident finishing her treatment says, “My alcoholic mother gave more attention to the dog than to me.” Several women shake their heads in empathy. “My earliest memory is picking my mother up off the streets and bringing her home to get sober,” Jacqueline echoes.

A National Concern

Federal studies consistently show this type of residential program is successful, but there are few of them. There are even fewer programs like Odyssey House, which is one of the few that accepts parents with two children under five. Most facilities, if they offer residential care at all, only have room for one child. Margo Matzdoff, Director of Women’s Services at New York State’s Office of Alcohol and Substance Abuse Services’ (OASAS) estimates there are fewer than a dozen centers that treat mothers and children in New York State.

The federal government’s year 2000 National Drug Control Strategy reports that women are “woefully underserved.” According to the Child Welfare League of America, in 1997, only 10 percent of child welfare agencies were able to locate treatment within a month for clients who needed it. Just 37 percent of substance-abusing mothers of minors received treatment in 1997. “We’re proud of our progress, but we need to do more,” Matzdoff says.

Despite the large number of women in need of treatment, places like Odyssey House have openings. That’s because just 5 percent of people enter Odyssey House completely voluntarily. The rest have to be forced in by the legal system – and that system is geared more towards jail sentences than treatment.

The Winding Road Toward Treatment

Many addicted mothers end up in the prison system when they are first arrested, either for using or selling drugs. It’s a costly process to keep an addicted woman in jail and there is little evidence to suggest it’s a path to sobriety.

Nevertheless, U.S. spending on the incarceration of drug offenders has soared in the past two decades. More than 450,000 people are now imprisoned in the United States on drug charges, compared with about 45,000 in 1980, according to The Sentencing Project. More than 90,000 of them are women. And in New York, due in large part to mandatory sentencing laws, 91 percent of the increase in women’s sentences from 1986 to 1995 was in connection with drug offenses.

In light of these staggering numbers, key members of the criminal justice system may be on the brink of exploring alternative ways to treat this population. The Brooklyn District Attorney’s office recently proposed an initiative to let up to 25 female convicts guilty of nonviolent crimes, and all of their children, live together in a residential setting. This center, located in Brooklyn’s East New York, would be the first in the country to allow a woman convicted of a felony to live with all her offspring – and the first built and run by a District Attorney’s office. The Bank Street College of Education has already agreed to offer educational advice for children at the center, and the law firm Cravath, Swaine, and Moore has said it will provide free legal work.

Within the legal system, drug courts may offer a promising alternative to reach mothers in trouble. These courts mandate and arrange for drug addiction treatment, actively monitor progress in treatment, and arrange for other services for drug-involved offenders. The U.S. Department of Justice Drug Courts Program Office provides the federal support for planning and implementing the courts. The treatment usually occurs in community-based settings, and proponents of drug courts emphasize that even if children are placed in foster care while their mothers are treated, reunion rates are higher.

The Challenges of Recruitment

All these approaches require waiting until a mother is arrested. The most daunting challenge, and the one most in need of attention, is how to encourage women to seek treatment before they confront the criminal system. Most experts agree it is critical to catch substance abusers early. But it is difficult to find these women and once found, few agree to submit to treatment voluntarily.

The reason is simple: “Why would you choose treatment when you want to get high, have sex, and sit in a bubble bath – nothing treatment allows?” asks Angel Lopez, longtime House Manager of Odyssey House. Lopez knows first hand about drugs’ temptations. Sober now for more than 15 years, he spent a year at El Regreso, a residential drug treatment center in Brooklyn. In and out of prison for several years for dealing and using drugs, he entered El Regreso only after he broke parole, sold drugs to an undercover officer a final time, and eventually gave in to a judge who provided him with few alternatives other than treatment.

And, if men like Lopez hesitate to seek drug treatment, it is a “thousand times” less likely that addicted mothers with children will voluntarily enter treatment centers, he says. Mothers fear losing their children to foster care or adoption if they admit an addiction, Lopez explains. Some of the women have been in foster care themselves. Or they have family members with children in foster care, and they can’t get them back, says Cecilia Scott, Odyssey House’s family center director.

Some organizations have come up with creative methods of recruitment. For example, OASAS has embarked on an innovative marketing campaign launched on Mother’s Day. The campaign features decorative posters with uplifting messages about the benefits of treatment for women and how it’s changed their lives. Featuring personal testimonies from women who have successfully recovered from addiction, OASAS plans to distribute brochures listing treatment options and facilities to places where these women are more likely to be: health clinics, public assistance offices, doctors’ offices, and hospitals.

Another way to encourage women to get treatment is through the welfare system. Statistics suggest that about 20 percent of women receiving public assistance need substance abuse treatment, but only 3 or 4 percent ever receive it. Through an education campaign, OASAS hopes to train Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) employees to reach out to these women. One way to make women aware that treatment with their children is possible is to require all women watch a video discussing treatment options as they come in for assessments. OASAS will also educate TANF employees about the range of services available to clients. The challenge is to make the campaign forceful enough to push women to get treatment, without making them feel guilty or fearful that they may lose their children, Matzdoff explains. “It’s a struggle, but we have to dream big.”

Copyright © 2001 by The American Prospect, Inc.