As the tide of meth-damaged children rises in Jackson County, foster parents like Sharon and Jim Bowling provide an island of safety

When he showed up on Sharon Bowling’s doorstep last fall, the 2-year-old boy was eerily quiet.

"He showed no sign of emotion," Bowling recalls. "He didn’t speak at all. Nothing."

The bouts of silence were broken only by screaming tantrums so severe that Bowling could do nothing but hold the toddler tightly until they passed.

Even now, months later, the chubby-cheeked boy born with methamphetamine in his blood climbs often into Bowling’s lap for a snug hug.

"He likes to be held and swaddled like a baby," says Bowling, a 39-year-old Medford foster mother who’s had to learn by experience the best ways to comfort drug-affected children.

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Right now, two of Bowling’s four foster children struggle with the lingering effects of their parents’ drug use.

More often, the number is higher, reflecting the overall statistics in Jackson County, where officials estimate 80 percent of the 330 kids in care were removed from their parents because of meth.

That’s up from just four years ago, when the average number of kids placed in care each month was 17 and alcohol was the worrisome substance-abuse problem, says Phil Niemeyer, a local supervisor for the state Department of Human Services.

Today, the average number of kids placed each month is 37 — and the leading factor is meth.

Last month, in fact, the local agency reached a new rolling milestone: 61 Jackson County children were placed in foster care in April, the most ever in a single month. For 38 of those children, methamphetamine was a factor in their placement.

Foster-care providers like Bowling figure they’re on the front lines of the meth crisis, coping daily with the fallout from adult addiction.

"It’s a selfish thing," says Bowling, who has three children of her own. "The parents are not here to see what their choices do to their children."

In seven years as a foster parent, both here and in Wyoming, Bowling has been called to hospital waiting rooms several times to take custody of newborns with drugs thrumming in their veins.

She has held the babies tightly as their tiny bodies arched and flailed in the throes of withdrawal. She has rocked them gently, hoping to calm their cat-like cries. She has filled syringes with medically prescribed methamphetamine and heroin and fed it to infants through bottle nipples.

"I have to give that baby a form of the drug to wean them off," Bowling says. "As a mom, it is the worst feeling in the world to give a baby who’s dependent on me that drug."

Even after the children endure physical withdrawal, symptoms of drug addiction linger. At 5, Bowling’s foster daughter still has moments when her muscles clench, sending the kindergartner into spasms of rigidity.

Bowling’s 3-year-old foster son speaks now and his tantrums have lessened, but he’s still extremely sensitive to stimulation.

"These kids, they just can’t deal with the sound and the touch and the taste," says Bowling.

Coping with the demands of such children is the subject of frequent training for foster parents like Bowling, who are part of Oregon’s effort to treat medically fragile foster children.

In Portland and other urban areas, specially trained foster providers may be registered nurses caring for kids with severe defects or illnesses.

In Southern Oregon, most of the area’s 250 foster parents are trained to provide at least some level of care for fragile children, says Patt Fisher, a foster parent recruitment specialist.

Few local foster children have problems severe enough to require skilled nursing, Fisher says. Hundreds of children, however, suffer from the plethora of problems produced by meth and other drug abuse.

The physical factors, which can include brain damage and learning disabilities, are often compounded by neglect and abuse perpetrated by meth-addicted parents.

Many of the children who come to Bowling suffer from malnutrition. Her 22-month-old foster daughter has nearly doubled in size since she arrived eight months ago. The 2-week-old boy who weighed 6 pounds when Bowling took him in is now a thin but healthy 8-month-old with two new teeth.

"This is America," says Bowling, who believes malnourished children should be regarded as medically fragile. "It’s amazing to think these children are not given proper nutrition when we have so much."

Caring for ill, injured and neglected children has been Bowling’s desire since she was a young girl. She and her husband, Jim Bowling, 39, a mechanical engineer, agreed early in their 18- year marriage to become foster providers.

"This, for us, is a ministry," says Bowling, a soft-figured woman in a poppy-colored polo shirt.

The couple, who attend Applegate Christian Fellowship in Ruch, are walking recruitment ads for foster care.

"People ask me all the time if the children are mine," Sharon Bowling says. "I say, ‘They are all mine, temporarily.’"

Being a foster parent to drug-affected children is not just a calling, it’s a job, of course. Bowling earns about $2,400 a month from the state to take care of four foster kids, including the two defined as medically fragile. However, that pay has to cover almost all of the children’s necessities, officials note.

"I make 52 cents an hour for the state base rate," Bowling says.

If Bowling had a wish, it would be that more people of faith would choose the challenge of foster care, she says, pulling her once-silent foster son into yet another hug.

"If I can help a parent who is down and out in this season of their life, that’s great," she says, cradling the toddler.

"And, at the same time, I can show the kids that the life they come from, it doesn’t have to be that way."

Reach reporter JoNel Aleccia at 776-4465, or e-mail jaleccia@mailtribune.com

Symptoms of meth-affected babies