Temporary no more

Foster care laws impact lives differently.
CLEVELAND (AP) -- Since she was a little girl, Donna Schultz hated to see people hurting. Movies without happy endings quickly got banned from her viewing habits. A career as a registered nurse brought her much joy until marriage and three babies brought her more.
So when her children -- Donna and husband Karl call them "homemades" -- started to grow up, there was a deep void.
"My littlest homemade went to kindergarten, and I was working as an RN in the ICU," the mother recalled. "I just had this overwhelming sense of missing. I wanted more babies, you know?
"My husband was like, 'No, we are not having any more. Why don't we think about foster care?"'
In 1993, a baby girl named Shonda was the first to need the Schultzes' care. Then her brother, Samuel, needed a home, too. Another unrelated baby, Emily, came next.
"There was never a plan to adopt," Donna Schultz said.
"But then the children. ...," she paused. "The system is not perfect."
Shonda, who came to the family at 5 months old, was 4 when social workers decided her birth mother was not able to care for her and that an adoptive home should be found.
By then, the Schultzes and Shonda were in love.
"The thought of someone else taking on where we left off, I just couldn't deal with that," Donna said. "So we were like, 'All right, we'll adopt her.' Then the next one came along."
Actually, five more children -- all with birth parents who were abusive or drug-addicted -- came along: Curtis, then baby triplets Joey, Stephan and Karla, and finally Taysha, a blind and deaf girl with other severe disabilities who requires constant care.
Most were infants when they arrived. The children, most with special needs such learning disabilities, autism and physical handicaps, now range in age from 6 to 12. All have been adopted.
A daunting task
Donna, 47, stays home to care for the children while Karl, 50, works as a truck driver. This winter, he returned from a yearlong tour in Iraq with the Army.
Life can get chaotic for the pair, whose "homemades" are now adults. A poster with each adoptive child's name hangs on the living room wall detailing their chores and homework responsibilities. Stickers are given for completed tasks and tickets awarded for once-a-week prizes.
Keeping up with music lessons, therapy, doctors appointments and other activities requires Type-A organization.
Donna does 40 loads of laundry a week. Karl makes countless trips to the store in their 15-passenger van for gallons of milk -- purchases on top of monthly grocery bills of about $1,000 that are more than the couple's mortgage on a new, larger home in the suburbs.
But there is help from members of their church, family and friends.
Donna says she never wanted anyone else's child -- she understood her role was to be a temporary mom. But when there were no other options for the children, temporary became forever.
"I like the happy ending kind of things. That's kind of how I feel with kids. I hate for them to have to suffer," she said, wiping away tears.
"There's just no way to describe how at night when they're all tucked in bed and everything's quiet, that feeling of peace that just feels like it's wrapped around you, that the day's done -- hopefully, I've done something that matters."