Touched by an Angel

Angel Sadler could be the star of a romantic movie for young adults. The 30-year-old’s fine unlined skin, sweet smile, schoolgirl figure and positive attitude convey nothing of the struggle that might condemn less resilient mothers to eternal depression.

Angel and Jay Sadler, of Vass, have a 3-year-old daughter, Emilie, with CHARGE syndrome. CHARGE is an acronym for a combination of life-threatening birth defects impacting speech, hearing, mobility, respiration, neurological, cardiac and cognitive function/development.

More specific descriptions, which Angel recites like a medical professional, could squeeze tears from a stone.

Emilie, not quite 4, has endured 13 surgeries (the first less than 24 hours after birth), receives nourishment from a feeding tube, breathes through a tracheostomy tube, cannot hear well or speak at all. But she has learned to sign 50 words and will acquire more.

In fact, dressed in jeans, a polka-dot top and blue ribbon in her softly curling hair, Emilie is hardly distinguishable from her classmates at Sandhills Children’s Center.

Angel learned of this catastrophic condition in her first trimester. Termination of the pregnancy was suggested.

“If God decided this child shouldn’t be born, then nature will take its course,” Angel remembers thinking. “Otherwise, this is my baby, and I’m going to take care of her.”

Angel was referred to a high-risk pregnancy doctor at Duke University Medical Center. During her pregnancy, which Angel describes as “beautiful,” there was another setback: Her mother died.

Delivery was induced at 39 weeks. Emilie remained in the hospital from August to November. Jay and Angel, formerly a finance manager, stayed at Ronald McDonald House in Durham, although Jay drove daily to his job as a mechanic in Sanford.

They prayed a lot, Angel says.

“My mission was to get my little girl well,” she says. “Nothing else mattered.”

Angel dealt not only with disabilities and fatigue, but with frustration.

“When Emilie cried I didn’t know what she needed, whether it was normal baby teething or something else,” she says.

Jay participated in every aspect of Emilie’s care.

Angel was unwilling to accept the dire diagnoses. She became proactive, devoting hours to studying the syndrome and how to deal with it.

“God gave me this child, who (people) said would never walk. She walks, she runs and plays. She does so many things that normal kids do,” Angel says, with fierce determination.

She is anticipating the time when Emilie’s breathing tube is removed, and Medicaid will no longer provide a nurse 16 hours a day.

And now Emilie has a baby brother.

“In my heart I wanted another baby — for Emilie,” Angel says. “I wanted them to have each other.”

Three-month-old Carter is normal, healthy and adorable.

Angel hopes when Emilie sees Carter eating by mouth (and performing other simple tasks), she’ll try.

“Besides, I enjoy being the mom of a child who doesn’t need equipment,” Angel says with a wry smile.

On Mother’s Day weekend, the family will attend the Buggy Festival in Carthage, just like hundreds of other families. People may stare. Adults are worse than children, Angel notices.

“My temper is short when it comes to ignorance,” she says.

But her patience is long — and extremely strong — when it comes to scaling a cliff other parents might not attempt.

“My child will not be a statistic, or a burden on society,” Angel states emphatically. “With Emilie as my inspiration I will settle for no less.”

Instant Motherhood

Rebecca Dunn was in the car when her cell phone rang on the afternoon of Aug. 15, 2007. Reception was spotty. All she heard was “… there’s a … baby.”

Chris and Rebecca Dunn, who live in Southern Pines, weren’t expecting this news for at least a year. They had no equipment — no bottles or diapers or car seat. But they were emotionally prepared.

Before deciding to adopt, the couple had attended foster parenting classes, where they learned of the Independent Adoption Center, a national nonprofit pioneer in open adoption with an office in Raleigh. The agency requires that the birth mother and adoptive parents participate in counseling. The birth mother selects the family for her child from detailed profiles.

The Dunns procrastinated; life was busy. Rebecca taught pre-school, and Chris directs the Arts Council of Moore County.

Once submitted, their application moved swiftly. Tiara, the birth mother, was in labor in Durham when Rebecca got the call. They arrived the next morning, not knowing whether the baby was a boy or a girl.

Christopher Jack Dunn, “C.J.,” remained in the hospital for two days while his new parents cruised Babies ’R Us to supplement what friends had left at their home after the sudden departure.

Chris and Rebecca had already worked through family dynamics and issues related to trans-racial adoption: Chris’ grandparents were the only blip.

“They lived in a different time, but they’re wonderful now,” Rebecca says.

Racial preference was an option on the application.

“We checked ‘all.’ We just wanted a baby,” Rebecca says.

A disability would not have deterred them either.

“No matter what, he was our baby,” she says.

The bond was immediate.

“C.J. was an easy baby,” Rebecca says. “He was awake a lot but didn’t cry. He set his own schedule. His only health problem is a life-threatening egg allergy, which I discovered the scary way.”

Yes, a few people blink. Some ask questions.

“One lady at the post office asked me if I was babysitting,” Rebecca says. Now a full-time mom, Rebecca is preparing for the day when C.J. will pose his own questions. They attend the First Missionary Baptist Church, read books with trans-racial characters and, as C.J. grows more aware, will seek out black families for cultural enrichment.

Although the agency practices open adoption, the birth mother has declined contact for now.

“We talk to C.J. about Mama Tiara,” Rebecca says. “We told her through a counselor that we are ready to welcome her but she hasn’t called.”

The Dunns sent Tiara a Mother’s Day note through the agency. They will buy a bouquet of flowers in her honor.

Rebecca’s euphoria encompasses all. Not even the “no-no-nos” from C.J., now experiencing the “terrible twos,” faze her.

“C.J.’s a good boy, very loving, a good listener with a laid-back personality,” she says. “I couldn’t top this one — he’s so perfect in every way.”

Eric and Vickie Plus Eight

“The Brady Bunch” rhapsodized blended families like “Mary Poppins” glorified nannyhood.

Some of Carol Brady’s sparkle rubbed off on Vickie Fogleman, adoptive mother of one, second mom to seven (ranging in age from 8 to 26), grandmother to one — and soon two.

It helps that Vickie resembles Florence Henderson, who played Brady in the 1970s sitcom. It helps even more that she is calm, nurturing and appreciative of her status. Although Eric Fogleman’s five sons and two daughters spend several days a week with their birth mother, Vickie says she is the mom of this house. Her son is their brother and his baby daughter is their niece.

“We don’t say ‘step-,’” Eric explains.

“They are all our children,” Vickie adds. They also appear as wholesome and well-behaved as the “19 Kids and Counting” Duggars, who have mesmerized TLC audiences since the head count was 16.

The Fogleman family — Brad, Adam, Amy, David, Nathan, Mary, two dogs and two cats — lives in the Aberdeen house where Eric and his five siblings grew up. Eldest sons Clay and Chris are gone — but everybody piles in for holidays, which Nathan, 10, says are “sometime fun, sometimes crazy.”

Vickie works part-time as a nuclear medicine technician. She and Eric married seven years ago.

“With such a large family, Eric promised me both heartaches and joys,” Vickie says. “Things are bound to happen. Coming from broken homes, the things that bring us together are not all good.”

Her son Chris was 17 when the families merged. Chris’ world turned upside down, Vickie recalls.

“He went from being the center of attention and having his own room to sharing a room with several brothers,” she says. “He got pushed off the throne.”

But, she continues, Chris enjoyed having younger ones look up to him.

Despite feeling overwhelmed and nervous at times, Vickie enjoyed this second chance to mother toddlers. Mary was 1 and Nathan, 3, when the family was created.

Organization is mandatory for making a large family hum. Although Vickie’s not strict with schedules, she has learned to delegate. Each child packs his or her school lunch; she designates other household duties — and keeps reminding.

Neighbors know the Foglemans as a family of runners. They all participate on foot or bikes now that they’ve outgrown strollers.

“It looks like a parade,” Eric says.

Vickie achieves that crucial one-on-one time for each child: a midnight showing of “Harry Potter,” a dinner out, a weekend trip. She and Eric refuel on weekends the kids spend at their “other house.”

“But I miss them.”

Still, Vickie has her moments.

“Sometimes I take a shower just to get away,” she says.

In a word, this fit, soft-spoken, youthful mother, second mom, working mom, mother-in-law and grandmother calls her experience “blessed.”

“I wanted to have children so much,” she says. “For a long time I had only one. Now I have eight.”

The Girls from Brazil

The phrase “single mom” had not been coined when Virginia Oliver became one.

Oliver, her husband, John Samuel Oliver (a World War II pilot and Baptist minister), and two young daughters went as missionaries to the Amazon region of Brazil in 1950, with rudimentary Portuguese and knowledge of the culture. In 1957, just five weeks after the birth of a third daughter, the plane John Samuel was piloting crashed mysteriously in the jungle. First to hear was 10-year-old Rebecca: “Mother, Dad won’t be coming home anymore,” she told Oliver.

The young mother, missionary, teacher and social worker returned to the U.S. for two years. Then one night Oliver heard a voice: “The Lord told me to go back.” Her initial answer: “Lord, leave me alone. How can a widow with three small children go back to Brazil?”

The Lord persisted.

Oliver and her daughters obeyed, staying 41 years.

“What else was there to do?” she says.

Work prevented loneliness. When old boyfriends approached, Oliver told them, “I didn’t want you then, and I don’t want you now.”

She never remarried.

“I was the only one of my peers who didn’t have a father,” says daughter Anna Stevens, of Pinehurst. Nevertheless, as a working single mother, Oliver built a strong, Godly family.

The children grew, flourished, attended college in the U.S., prepared for careers — as their mother insisted. Otherwise, Stevens says, “Our home was down there.”

Daughter Rebecca married and remained in Brazil. Oliver moved back to North Carolina in 2001. She has a suite in her daughter’s home. This summer, Oliver will return to Brazil for her grandson’s graduation from medical school.

Oliver looks like the stereotypical genteel Southern lady. Underneath, however, she retains the toughness, determination and adventurous spirit of the woman who raised a family alone, abroad.

“Don’t cross her,” son-in-law Archie Stevens says with a chuckle.

“(In the pre-feminist era) not every woman could argue with men in a macho world and hold her own without being pushed around,” Anna Stevens says.

Oliver just smiles modestly and murmurs, “The Lord did it.”

Contact Deborah Salomon at debsalomon@hotmail.com.