'It's our job to be mom's voice,' but despite that, number of Indigenous kids in care is climbing

The calls coming from the hospital were sadly very familiar to the staff at the Nogdawindamin neonatal hub in Sault Ste. Marie.

They are commonly known as "birth alerts."

"That mom should not be caring for this baby, it's not safe," recalled outreach worker Carli Ochman.

But when she got to the hospital she found an Indigenous mother who was "tirelessly" by the side of her newborn son, being treated in the neonatal intensive care unit.

"And I'm looking at the paper work that's been provided to me and I'm thinking 'Something is wrong here,'" said Ochman.

"It's our job to be mom's voice when her voice might be breaking."

Turns out the decision to take the child into custody was based on an assessment of the mother from 20 years before, when two other children were apprehended from her, saying that due to developmental delays she couldn't read, write, do mathematics or properly care for a child. 

But Ochman found the woman to be literate, organized and focused on keeping her home clean for her newborn son. 

"She deserves a fighting chance at being with this baby," said the outreach worker. 

Nogdawindamin paid for a doctor to do a fresh assessment of the woman.

"The doctor said to her 'There is no reason that you cannot successfully parent your child,'" said Ochman.

"And that to me was music to my ears.

"I thought of every single thing that child welfare could use against this mom and I said 'I don't think so.'"

Ochman said the woman, who still does not have a relationship with any of her older children, would get discouraged at times trying to work through the bureaucracy.

"'You know what this is too hard, maybe he can just live with grandma and I'll go visit," the mother told her.

"Is that really what you want?" Ochman asked.

"No," the new mother replied.

"OK. Then we're going to find ways to make this happen for you," Ochman told her.

"If we could have met her 20 years ago, she could have had three children in her care right now."

It's an example of the lengths that Indigenous-led child welfare agencies such as Nogdawindamin have gone to since taking over children's aid in 2017.

But despite that the number of children being take into care has been going up in recent years, from 190 when they took over to around 267 today. 

"Certainly something we're not proud of: we've seen our number elevate by probably about 90 per cent," said Nogdawindamin CEO Kerry Francis.

"Young parents, middle-aged parents that are completely paralyzed because of opiate addiction."

But Francis says if it wasn't for prevention programs, like the neonatal hub or the mental health programs they offer, there would likely be over 500 children in their custody, double what it is now. 

He says they are struggling with the provincial government to provide more funding, especially when some children require the full-time attention of two staff members and the annual bill for one kid can be $1.5 million. 

"If you look and you really understand where these young people have come from, it is not their fault the way they are," said Francis.

He says "one of the biggest struggles" for Nogdawindamin is still being under the "mainstream" provincial system.

"We should not be telling First Nations communities where children and youth should stay when they can't be with their parents," Francis said.

"I think it needs to change."

Former First Nation chief had to prevent children's aid from taking children

12 months ago

Duration 1:48

Former Batchewana First Nation Chief Dean Sayers remembers standing in front of a car to prevent Indigenous children from being apprehended by children's aid.

Former Batchewana First Nation Chief Dean Sayers, who once stood in front of a car to prevent children's aid from apprehending children, also feels they need a child welfare system based on Anishinaabe traditions. 

"And you can't implement beads and buckskins today, but you can implement the culture, you can implement the ethic, the essence of what the elders talked about," said Sayers.

"They would say 'That's not our system. We're only doing it on a temporary basis until we develop, redevelop, our own child welfare law.'"

And that still includes birth alerts, three years after the Ontario government ordered children's aid societies to stop issuing them.

"Because we're still seeing it in the hospital, still happening somewhat today, even though there is the directive," said Elaine Johnston, the prevention manager at Nogdawindamin. 

"So it's educating the hospital that 'You know what? You can't do this any more."