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After Theodora
and Tamika were featured in The Times' "Orphans
of Addiction" series, police and social workers
found them living in the garage of a filthy Long
Beach home.
Within easy
reach of the girl were crack pipes and hypodermic
needles, some of them uncapped, one filled with
a brown liquid believed to be heroin. Human waste
filled a broken toilet.
"My
heart sunk," Theodora recalled of that November
morningwhen
the authorities arrived. "I was scared. I
was losing my daughter."
Theodora was permitted to
put 3-year-old Tamika in the social worker's car.
She told her daughter she loved her and then pressed
a cross into her tiny hand.

At
Oasis Treatment Center, where she has
lived
since November, Theodora encourages
her daughter, Tamika,
to blow out candles on her
cake. Tamika, 4, had never had a
birthday party before. She
now lives with a foster family, but
Theodora hopes they will
be reunited some day.
Photo courtesy Oasis
Treatment Center |
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"God
is doing this for a reason," she told
Tamika, who responded tearfully: "Mommy!
I want you!"
"It
will be all right, sweetheart," Theodora
said as the car drove away.
Theodora
was arrested, and Tamika became one of 531,000
youngsters in the nation's foster care system.
She was placed in the loving home of a woman
in Bellflower, where Tamika is said to be
on the mend—like the mother whom she
talks of missing so much.
Treatment
Center, where Theodora now lives. A group
therapy room was filled with pink and white
balloons, Barbie plates, piles of presents
and dozens of guests, most of them patients
at the facility.
At
the center of it all was Tamika and a big
cake with four candles, the only ones ever
lit for the youngster on this, the first
birthday party of her life.
"I
want another birthday party," she later
told the center's founder. "I want
to have lots of parties." |
As for Theodora,
the affair was bittersweet, providing a glimpse
of the future while reminding her of what had
led her to this place.
"What
kind of mother was I? . . . I abused her,"
Theodora said of Tamika. "It's hard for me
to grasp and accept
that." But, she said, "the more the
fog lifts, the more I accept."
Copyright,
1998, Los Angeles Times. Reprinted by permission.
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