We can fool ourselves into thinking that we have our lives well planned out. It was that way for me, being a product of the 1950/60’s: I’d go to college, meet my prince, get married, have children and live happily ever after. As much as I thought I knew what to expect, my life was riddled with surprises. But the last was the most unexpected, compelling me to write Fifth Child, a non-fiction book about the anguish and consequences of a drug-addicted child, which resulted in parenting her child almost since birth.

My husband and I are cast into a shockingly large demographic. Grandparents raising grandchildren is a growing phenomenon in our country because of our shifting economy, unmarried teen mothers, alcohol abuse and illegal drug use. Close to 10 million grandparents comprise the club. We had already raised four children. Jaime was our third child, and Brady is her son, who began calling us Mommy and Daddy when he was three. Readers may be amazed to find calamity overcoming a so seemingly traditional family. But as events and family history unfold, disturbing pitfalls and unfortunate genetic vulnerability reveal fault lines that can sabotage people from any walk of life.

"The Addict's Mom Sharing Without Shame" Video is so important whether addiction has touched your life or not. It's powerful. Please click on the link below to watch the video http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gHNZbbePiKg

Follow by Email

Thursday, March 22, 2012

A Snippet From Chapter: THREE PARENT FAMILY

Two months passed and I hadn’t heard a word from Jaime. Every time the doorbell or the phone rang at odd hours, I shuddered, thinking it was the police telling me they found my daughter in a ditch.  That thought haunted me when I slept and when I was awake. It’s a nightmare many parents share when their children are addicts.

It was a Saturday morning towards the end of summer. I was still in my pajamas, casually reading the newspaper and finishing my cup of coffee when the phone rang.  I thought it might be Adam calling from Tennessee, but it wasn’t; it was Jaime. For the first time in a very long time, her voice wasn’t hoarse. She asked me to please just listen and not talk. Something inside me gave me a foreboding of what she was going to say.  I held my breath.