My baby's first kick reminds me of all the Indigenous babies stripped from their families
The promise of reconciliation lies with those children who are looking to a better future
WARNING: This story contains distressing details.
This First Person piece is by Carol Rose GoldenEagle, a Cree and Dene artist who lives in Regina Beach, Sask. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, please see the FAQ.
I remember the first time I felt my baby kick.
My sweet Jackson, whom I've always called my baby bear, will be 27 this year. I prayed for his safety and my pregnancy each day as he grew inside of me. I loved him even before he was born and made his entrance into this world.
Some may say that the world is cruel, but I don't believe it. There is a saying that our vibe attracts our tribe. In my life, that tribe has been filled with light, love and acceptance. I am not sure how it happened, but I send gratitude to the Creator for this, especially since my own beginnings did not foresee this wealth of all that is good.
It's also why I begin on this day, Sept. 30, by remembering all of those beautiful Indigenous children who never made it home from residential school or survived the Sixties Scoop or anything else related to child welfare and apprehension.
I also remember their mothers and the first time they too felt that first kick.
I was one of those Sixty Scoop babies. My mother, Maggie Morin from Sandy Bay, Sask., was a registered nurse and a capable person. But she was an unmarried Cree woman from Peter Ballantyne Cree Nation, so the province deemed her unfit to be a mother and took me away from her on the very day I was born. From the stories I am told, she never recovered from my abduction.
I expect she, too, remembered my first kick.
I never met her because as a Sixties Scoop kid, I was cast into the child welfare system.
The province didn't open the adoption records for Sixties Scoop children until I was in my 30s. That's when I requested my file and learned Maggie had died in a car crash when I would have been in my teens.
But I still feel her presence. That first kick had magic. We are connected and always will be. I can't even begin to describe the sorrow of never knowing her.
I could easily be one of those people who vilifies the system of child apprehensions and Canada's dark history when it comes to Indigenous peoples. But I believe there's no point in doing that; you cannot change the past.
I felt my Jackson's first kick and I raised a beautiful baby boy, along with his twin brother and sister, Daniel and Nahanni, who both came along two years later.
Yes, there were policies that took me away from my roots, my family and my culture, my language and heritage. I give thanks that some of those policies have changed and efforts are being made toward reconciliation. As a single Indigenous mother, my children could have been apprehended — just like I was.
So much damage has been done. But going into my golden years, knowing that some day I will be a kohkum, there is an opportunity to undo the harms of the past. It is why I am grateful to be involved in organizing events that bring together communities.
As a child, I was never able to attend a round dance.
But this year, I am celebrating my Cree and Dene roots, and the people of the community where I live will embrace the tradition of the round dance this year as we have in the past.
What is reconciliation? It is a starting point where we don't just talk about Canada's dark history. Reconciliation is taking action today, and not just reading about history, but doing something to change the relationship with Indigenous Peoples, for the better. It is not sitting on the sidelines and saying, "It doesn't affect me."
Reconciliation involves active inclusion. It is everyone working toward building and strengthening community.
We will hold hands, we acknowledge and we say together as a community that we rebuild.
We don't watch, we participate. Holding hands and round dancing together.
That first kick.
It's happening.
Support is available for anyone affected by their experience at residential schools or by the latest reports.
A national Indian Residential School Crisis Line has been set up to provide support for survivors and those affected. People can access emotional and crisis referral services by calling the 24-hour national crisis line: 1-866-925-4419.
Mental health counselling and crisis support is also available 24 hours a day, seven days a week through the Hope for Wellness hotline at 1-855-242-3310 or by online chat at www.hopeforwellness.ca.
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