Editor's Note: This is part 2 of 2 parts, of an article that is 2nd in a
series of articles running this week. The 'Source' for this series was
erroneously attributed to the "Edmonton Sun." The credit should be to the
"Ottawa Sun." We apologize for any confusion & trouble this may have caused.

TINY VICTIMS - (Part 1 of 2)

(.....Continued from previous article)

Caroline was adopted when she was a toddler and was welcomed into a
family that already had two adopted and two birth children.

The youngest of the bunch, Caroline took most of her parents' time and
energy while growing up, developing behavioural problems that baffled
them.

Research through the Children's Aid Society helped Simone Joanisse
prove that Caroline's birth mother had an alcohol habit, which then
helped the family understand and cope with their daughter's behaviour.

Now Caroline's life is on a strict schedule. When she isn't at school
or being watched over by a nanny for the half-hour before her parents
arrive home from work, she is with a family member.

"Sometimes I wish I could go to the mall by myself," says Caroline,
who must be accompanied by her parents because she is too accepting of
others and doesn't understand the consequences of her unacceptable
actions.

Caroline enjoys spending money, often forgetting where her weekly
allowance went. Most of the time the $5 goes into the coffers of the
Dollar Store.

"The minute I get it is the minute I spend it," explains Caroline, who
loves knick-knacks.

Caroline has begun questioning her parents about her ability to have
children and growing into a "normal" adult, but remains naive about
the responsibilities of parenting and her capabilities.

For now she is busy working through her teenage years. But she does
hope to grow into a healthy adult, get married and have children, just
like "everyone else."

Alcohol is just as dangerous to the unborn child as heroin, says Dr.
Robin Walker, chief of neonatology at the Children's Hospital of
Eastern Ontario.

The premature birth specialist has seen his share of the devastating
effects of alcohol consumption by a pregnant woman since he began his
career in Moncton, N.B., in 1977.

"Of the commonly used drugs, alcohol is probably the worst," says
Walker, gazing at a room full of newborns in CHEO's neonatal unit.

"Nicotine is pretty bad but it doesn't have the long-term effects."

Walker says that because FAS newborns don't have the withdrawal
symptoms that heroin babies have, it makes it difficult to diagnose
the problem, especially when the mother won't admit drinking during
pregnancy.

To help young doctors recognize FAS newborns before they are released
from hospital, Walker has been successful in adding a questionnaire to
a clinical trial at the University of Toronto.


"(Doctors) know about it but they're not well trained to identify
alcohol abuse during pregnancy," he says, noting prevention strategies
need to aim at the root cause of alcohol abuse, like mental illness
and physical abuse.

"All the things we've tried so far have proven very effective in
decreasing alcohol abuse ... in the middle class. But they've
predictably not saved one baby from FAS."

Walker says those babies with FAS who are discharged from hospital
without being diagnosed won't likely be spotted until they hit the
school system -- when they begin to exhibit behavioural problems and
learning disabilities.

"It's going to be identified once something starts to go wrong," says
Walker, adding that it's unknown whether late diagnosis adversely
affects treatment.

But if a newborn is diagnosed, the child will get the benefit of
professional help right from the start.

Once a child is diagnosed with FAS, Walker said he has the legal
obligation to notify the Children's Aid Society to signal a
potentially abusive situation.

"Our role is certainly to look after the interest of the child," he
says, adding that everything will be done to keep a baby with its
birth parents.

"Usually the interest of the child is the interest of the family."

Amy Asselstine is a bundle of energy as she bounces into her parents'
kitchen.

Her long auburn ponytail flips back and forth as the slender
24-year-old settles uncomfortably at the kitchen table, fidgeting with
anything she can get her hands on.

"I don't have any physical signs and I'm happy," says Amy, sweeping
her hands repeatedly across the pale tablecloth. "I have problems with
my emotions. I don't even know why I get in these moods."

Amy blames her hyperactivity, learning disabilities, severe mood
swings and frustrations on alcohol. She met her birth mother last
summer, who admitted she liked "a good party" when she was pregnant.

A private search agency helped find her birth mother, but Amy severed
their ties again because she kept phoning.

Amy says that now when she becomes emotional and angry without
understanding why, she directs her frustrations toward her birth
mother.

"I do sometimes blame her," Amy says. "I get in a mood and I think
that if it wasn't for her I'd be fine."

Amy says she hasn't been able to put her finger on what triggers her
mood swings and angry feelings, and she feels powerless to stop them.

But she is painfully aware that her friends, boyfriend and family have
suffered the most from her anger over the years.

Many people don't understand her problem and label her moody.

"I usually take it out on anyone around me," says Amy, who often goes
to bed at night in a foul mood and finds it difficult to shake the
doldrums the next day.

"A lot of people think I'm a bitch."

To determine what triggers her anger or whether her moods change at
certain times of the month or week, she has started marking her
frustrating and angry days on the calendar. But she still doesn't know

why she gets so angry.

She's lost friends because of her uncontrolled anger, and clings to
her small circle of close friends who understand she has no control
over her mood swings.

"A lot of people don't understand," Amy says, noting that even if she
explains her situation, many people will continue to think she is only
making excuses for her unruly behaviour.

Since she moved out of her home five years ago, her family has been
spared many of her mood swings.

Before they discovered that Amy's birth mother drank while pregnant,
her older brother Stuart would yell at her, blaming her for his
family's hardship. But after reading as much as he can on FAS, he
recognizes that alcohol is behind her unpredictable behaviour.

Amy was adopted by Dorothy and Dean when she was 19 months old,
growing into a talkative and friendly toddler.

"I was really talkative and free when it comes to friends," Amy says
of her time at elementary school.

She was chatty and friendly on the school bus, but when she entered a
classroom she tried to hide behind her desk because she was confused
by the activity.

Amy says she had problems understanding what was being taught,
immediately failing Grade 1. She was told if she tried harder her
grades would improve.

To find out why she couldn't learn as quickly as other children she
was taken to a number of doctors, each of whom came up with a
different diagnosis.

When she was 18 her parents stumbled onto a television news feature on
FAS. They immediately took her to CHEO, where a doctor suggested she
might have partial FAS.

School didn't get any easier for her, and after struggling with many
of her high school courses she dropped out of Grade 12.

As a teenager she drank and did drugs with her friends on weekends,
arriving home late Sunday with a hangover.

She moved into her own apartment when she was 19, after the fights
about her behaviour and attitude became daily events.

She tried to go back to finish high school at an alternative school,
but says she dropped out because she had too much freedom.

Amy needs to be told what to do and when, and the alternative school
philosophy of loosely structured classes where students can pick what
they want to learn each day didn't work.

"For me I found it was too hard and I got away with too much."

Her binge drinking ended two years ago when she hit rock bottom and
checked into a detox centre. She says she remains a social drinker,
but has control now over the amount of alcohol she drinks and some
nights won't drink at all.

She has returned to Perth District Collegiate Institute and graduates
this month.

"I was determined this time," Amy says, her large brown eyes
sparkling. "I just try my hardest. This time I am giving it all I
can."

Amy has the basic courses she needs to graduate, but has not been able
to take advance classes during her years in high school.


"I still don't know my times table," Amy says. "I still have a hard
time with the clock. I sometimes have a hard time remembering."

Amy is proud to say she has held down the same job for more than two
years, with only the occasional intervention needed by an adult
protective worker.

"I don't like to give up because there's no point," Amy says.

She started by cleaning dishes, but with persistent nagging she made
her way up to the kitchen and now is taking driving lessons so she can
deliver food.

Amy admits learning to drive is taking all of her energy, and she
isn't sure she'll ever be able to master it.

She's been told she shouldn't be doing deliveries because she has
problems counting money, but says she'll bring along a calculator and
figure it out, even if people look at her strangely.

Independent living has been made easier with the help of adult
protective workers from Perth's Community Living Association.

They have opened a joint bank account, where she puts all her money so
she can't spend it without their approval.

"I like to spend and not to think of the consequences," Amy said.

She hopes these workers will be able to help her learn the life skills
she needs to function on her own.

"I do want to try on my own but I'm so scared," she says.

When her boss or other employees try to put up walls to stop her from
attaining her goals, she gets help from her adult protective worker to
go through them.

She had to call on one when her anger was threatening her job because
her boss wouldn't let her move up to a kitchen position.

The worker explained her medical condition to her boss, and it's been
smooth sailing since.

"I'm just a regular worker," Amy says.

"I just don't learn as fast as everybody else."

She says she's also a chronic worrier, constantly concerned about her
friends, job, school and future.

"I don't know what I want and it's scary," Amy says about her goals.
"Sometimes I find I just get overwhelmed ... by problems."

She's now trying to decide what to do after high school graduation.
She wants to help those using the same services as herself at the
Community Living Association in Perth, where she is volunteering.

Amy says that once she decides on a career path she wants to have her
own family.

"I really do want kids one day," Amy says, adding that she will ensure
that her children are never harmed by alcohol.

"But I don't want my little girl to live through what I did."

Amy says she worries about raising children, concerned they will
notice she's different from other mothers. She's also afraid they'll
ask for her help on school work and she won't know the answers.

"I'd be so scared I wouldn't be able to tell them what to do.
Sometimes I can't even decide what to do for myself."

Second in a special four-part series examining the tragedy of Fetal
Alcohol Syndrome, Canada's No. 1 cause of birth defects


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Websites:

www.ccsa.ca

www.arf.org/isd/infopak/arbd.html

Phone numbers:

Canadian Centre on Substance Abuse, FAS hotline: 1-800-559-4514

FAS Alcohol Syndrome Support Group, Dorothy Asselstine: (613) 259-3270
or Cattis Esbensen: 1-800-667-2617

Motherisk (Toronto): 1 (416) 813-6780

Checked-by: Rich O'Grady