Mothers & Other Strangers

Suri, Moses and Barron. They’re not even old enough to talk and yet their celebrity status has already sent the tabloids scurrying for snapshots and the gossipmongers taking bets on which one will be the first to get enrolled in long-term therapy.

Those kids will never want for anything,” I overheard a woman remark with an underscore of envy to her companion in a checkout line as they perused the latest issue of People. While motherhood is a daunting proposition at any age, there’s certainly no argument that the luxury of 24/7 nannies, applesauce slurped off spoons of sterling silver, and limo rides to playgroup are a pleasant tradeoff to the unpleasant pains of labor.

Nor is it likely that these youngsters born to privilege will ever have to fill out a job application or – horrors! – flip burgers to pay for tuition at community college. Even as we speak, ground is probably being broken for a megolossal corporation to be headed by The Donald’s gurgling new apprentice. Could life as we know it get any better than this?

This story, however, isn’t about the lives of those whose homes are elegantly palatial. This story is about expectant mothers who have no home to begin with.

Elizabeth House sits on a shady residential street halfway between El Molino and Lake in Pasadena, California. There’s no sign on the front lawn that discloses the nature of its existence, nor clues left on the porch or in the driveway to hint at the residents’ lifestyles or circumstances. Since July 1994, this unassuming address has been the functional equivalent of a lighthouse for scores of women who have been cast adrift by their families, friends and the fathers of their unborn babies.

Terry Bright, Executive Director, invites me into the dining room for a morning interview – a setting reminiscent of an earlier, more genteel era. She nods in understanding when I remark that my expectations could not have conjured this particular scenario. “We want them to feel like they’ve come home,” she replies, leaving unspoken the reality that many of those whose paths have brought them to this table have never known so comforting a venue.

The thought of doing a program like this, getting non-profit status, and putting together a board started coming together in 1991,” Bright begins her overview. “A strategic survey had been done and it was discovered that there were no maternity shelters in the San Gabriel Valley that took in women 18 and older and who also had children. Our founding Executive Director, Debbie Unruh, was in the hospital having her second child when she made the acquaintance of a pregnant woman who was a drug addict and DCFS was going to be coming in to take her child as soon as it was born. It really touched her heart that no one had been there for this woman and that she was about to go into labor by herself. She asked herself how this frustrating cycle could be stopped. She’d already been working with foster care systems through ChildSHARE and recognized that there was a need to reach these individuals early on in order to help them get good prenatal care, deal with substance abuse issues, and learn how to get back on their feet.”

The idea soon caught the attention of area civic groups and churches that were cognizant of the increasing numbers of homeless women and their families.

There were places for teenagers and older women who were pregnant but no facilities for those who had young children. When I came on board in November of 1994 as a program director, I started implementing classes that would teach these women life skills such as managing a budget, grocery shopping, practicing good hygiene, parenting, dealing with their emotional baggage, determining their employment potential, and encouraging them to set transitional, self-sustaining goals for after they leave us.”

She points out that teaching these things in the comfort, warmth and security of a home environment and with a small group fosters the socialization skills these women will need in order to re-enter society. Household chores and taking turns cooking group meals, she explains, are also part of the long-term objective of instructing residents how to care for their families.

To date, over 160 women and 275 infants and children have benefited from the care, concern and generosity of Elizabeth House staff. Bright enthusiastically sings the praises of the counselors who perform the needs assessment profiles on the residents who have crossed their threshold.

The women who are accepted into our program via referrals and an extensive interview must be over 18, pregnant, homeless and not actively involved with substance abuse or domestic violence. We look into whether they have a criminal record or have ever been evicted, in addition to checking their credit records which will then be factored into our goal of transitioning them into independent living or reunification with their families. A questionnaire test related to their knowledge of health education and basic life skills is given to them during the intake process. We then give it to them again when they leave – which is 2 to 4 months after the birth of their child – to determine what they’ve learned as a result of the classes and the communal ‘family’ environment we’ve created for them during this time of crisis.”

Ongoing psychological evaluations with a licensed clinical therapist are mandatory during their stay, as are assessments of their educational and physical abilities to hold a job and the encouragement to participate in the activities of a church of their choosing in order to satisfy the need for spiritual grounding and community support and interaction.

Bright shares that Elizabeth House maintains a strong connection with approximately 68-70 percent of the women who have been residents. “We do a newsletter to them every quarter and also have two large events each year where they come back and receive gifts for their children and for themselves. Follow-up is really important to us because of our network of resources that can continue to help them along the way.” She’s proud to add that many of them have graduated from high school and even college.

Running the program costs approximately $250,000 a year and is dependent on grants, individual donations and fund-raisers. Groundbreaking is currently underway to expand Elizabeth House and accommodate more women and their children. “If I had two wishes,” Bright reveals, “one of them would be for us to be able to run a transitional housing facility that would allow our residents a little more time under our wings to adjust to an independent living situation. The second goal would be to have a work program such as a thrift shop or a coffee house/bookstore where they could get hands-on experience in sales, business ethics and communication. The money derived would then be circulated straight back into our programs.”

The fact that the line between the have’s and the have not’s is a very thin one is a message that has not been lost on the neighborhood that envelopes Elizabeth House. “The observatory across the street collects toys every Christmas for us,” Bright says. “The woman next door has known about us for a very long time and adored all of our children. The woman across the street from us has an apartment building with several units that would be ideal for transitional housing. The woman next door had her heart go out so much to one of our residents that she ended up buying little dresses and toys for the baby. Our neighbors down the street know about us and that we’re a responsible organization and our residents are held accountable for everything they do. If we’re having a celebration, I let everyone know so that they can be a part of what we’re doing. Because they have seen our girls and are aware of the standard that we hold them to, they’ve embraced the fact that we’re trying in our own small way to be part of the solution to a significant problem in our region.”

The true proof of the program’s success, of course, is in the words of those who have the most intimate contact with its services. Before I leave, I am introduced to a beautiful young resident named Kyley. She sits down at the table and folds her hands, a little bit uncertain how to respond to a member of the press.

She heard about Elizabeth House, she tells me, through a friend of her family at the Church of Nazarene. “I go to Christian Assembly at Eagle Rock and heard about Elizabeth House through a woman I call my other mom and who’s been my biggest support system. I came to the house without any other place to go. I was pregnant and my family wasn’t very supportive. It was such a miracle to find a place like this.” Her dark eyes start to glisten with tears. “I had no idea that such a place, such a refuge even existed.”

She has high praise for the structure and the sense of family that defines her new existence. “We all have responsibilities and we all have to take care of the house and everyone who’s in it. You learn how to prepare meals, how to get up in the morning, how to do chores, you have time schedules, and if it’s your turn to cook, you need to figure out how to feed the whole group.” She confides that the best dish she knows how to cook is a beef and broccoli soup.” She giggles. “It was just a crock pot dish but nobody complained so I guess it was okay.”

She has done her own job training program and currently has resumes in circulation. This day in fact, she has two interviews lined up. She talks enthusiastically about the parenting classes available through Elizabeth House and believes that they will adequately prepare someone who is really dedicated to the task of moving forward.

Her dream for the future is a relatively simple one. “My dream right now is to have a stable home for me and my child and to be able to provide a good life for both of us.” She pauses, glancing around the dining room with a wistful expression. “I want the finances to be able to make everything work and to have that happy life everyone expects to have when they first start out, not just for me but for my baby.” Subconsciously, she twists the ring finger of her left hand, an action that she may not be aware I’ve even noticed. “Maybe it will be with someone. Maybe not. I’m really not even thinking about that right now.”

I ask her what message she wants to impart to her child in the future. Without hesitation, she replies, “Don’t give up. Life may be hard but there’s always going to be someone to help. Whether it’s family or friends or sometimes strangers that you don’t even know, never take life for granted. I hope that every girl who ever takes a wrong choice gets to be here and to feel as much love and self-worth as they make you feel at Elizabeth House.”

And as I squeeze her hand in farewell, I hope that every parent in every circumstance takes heart in the realization that the confident young woman I’ve just spoken to could be their very own child. Lost for this fragile moment, perhaps, but secure in the belief that the caring of strangers will show them to a haven they can truly call Home.