My son was born drug dependent. A safe supply of opiates gave him a future.

We heard that our adoption file had been given to a birth mom a couple of days earlier but didn't want to get our hopes up. Then, the call.

"Come to Calgary, she chose your family to place her baby with, and wants to meet you."

After much panicking, pulling our daughter out of school, running out on work, we travelled down and were suddenly face to face with our son. He was in a darkened room, hooked up to monitors, with tubes running into him.

Adoptive parents often worry about bonding with their children. I know I did. One never knows what it will be like until the situation is right there, in your face. But I looked at this boy, our son, and knew that whatever it took, I would do anything to support and protect him.

William's birth mother had been using drugs to ease her own pain, but once she learned she was pregnant, she accessed a methadone program because she knew that quitting opiates "cold turkey" could be harmful or even fatal to her baby.

She then did everything she could to protect and prepare for her child, moving mountains for him and making incredibly difficult choices under impossible circumstances to give her baby the best chance in life she could, as any mother would. 

Medical professionals, in this case a doctor and pharmacist, supervised her consumption of a safe supply of opiates during her pregnancy, meaning she would be much healthier and so would her baby, likely saving the life of my son.

The opposite of addiction is not sobriety, it is connection.- Quinn Moerike

William was born dependent on opiates, what most people refer to as addicted. Babies go into immediate withdrawal after birth, as they are no longer getting a supply of the drug. Medical professionals, now NICU doctors and nurses, prescribed him morphine and supervised his consumption of opiates after his birth. 

The nurses were amazing. I remember the nurse on duty saying that due to his withdrawal symptoms he didn't like to be touched.

Children born with opiate dependency often experience sensitivity to touch, tremors, convulsions, high-pitched crying for long periods of time, etc. Once our family came onto the scene, William began cuddling with his mother, my wife, immediately, and his scores began improving precipitously.

Everyone was amazed.

We weren't. He was getting the medication he needed and his family was pouring all of their love into him. That is how human beings were designed to be. The opposite of addiction is not sobriety, it is connection. 

In fact, opiates mimic in the addicted mind something that approaches the feelings of love and connection these people too often don't get in their lives. 

Looking for an escape

I was a methamphetamine addict for many years, and let me say that no one grows up wanting that for their life. They don't seek a life of addiction on drugs, they escape into them, they escape from the darkness and the torment and the childhood trauma.

They escape from the complete lack of connection to other human beings, their communities and their culture, into an artificial construct to be certain, but one that allows them to cope and survive. For the moment. 

But often the moment, even if it lasts years, is what is needed for nearly broken humans to make it through. Because we know that most people who use drugs like the ones highlighted by the opiate epidemic eventually quit and put their lives back together, except for one group — those who die before they get the chance.

And we know the huge number of those who die in the throes of their addictions die of entirely preventable things. They die of overdoses, of infections, communicable diseases, and bad batches.

To be clear, these people, in the darkest moments of their lives, die of things that would be easily preventable if they had access to a site where they could have their consumption supervised by medical professionals and access to a safe supply. 

William, my beautiful son, was in the hospital for weeks, transferred to Edmonton eventually. Finally we were allowed to take him home with a supply of morphine under the supervision of our pediatrician. A safe supply under medical supervision. 

Without that, his life would have likely been painful and short. We slowly worked to stabilize him and taper him off until, after about three months, he was able to stop taking opiates.

Growing strong

Today he likes to cuddle with his big sister, and loves his fuzzy giraffe soother, and acts really surprised if you come in too fast to kiss his forehead.

His mom is home with him from work and plays and feeds and changes diapers all day long, all the while taking videos and pictures to send to his birth mother, who we stay in contact with.

He has a long life ahead of him that will be full of support, love, community, promise and joy. 

But I worry.

I worry that others won't have the same opportunity that William and his mother had.

The opportunity to access a site to safely consume the substances that they are leaning on right now under the supervision of medical professionals, like the ones that helped William and his birth mother.

I think that a society is judged based on how it treats "the least of these," and I hope and pray that we will find a way.