THE MOST PRECIOUS THING SHE LOST AFTER REHAB: A SON

Tina opens up a zip-lock bag filled with Indian cigarettes and fishes
for another smoke. The ashtray on her kitchen table is quickly filling
up as she sips her morning coffee and eats mini-doughnuts.

Apart from cigarettes, the 20-year-old says the "last addiction" she
needs to quit is her boyfriend, Mark, a dishevelled 17-year-old she
used to smoke pot with.

She has been out of drug and alcohol rehab for a month and has not
relapsed. But the stress of this relationship has pushed her close to
the edge. Many times. She knows it could jeopardize her recovery. And
it will affect her chance of regaining custody of her 11-month-old
son, currently in foster care.

"I love my son to death and I know the things I need to do (to get
custody), but it's hard. I have a lot of anxiety about being alone,"
says Tina.

"(Mark) makes me feel better about myself - that someone supposedly
cares. He'll sit on the couch and cuddle with me. He doesn't
completely always want sex."

There is another side to him. She says he's taken CDs, DVDs and
cigarettes from her, lied about watching pornos with other girls,
cheated on her while she was in rehab, told her she isn't as good in
bed as other girls, even egged her house.

She has few friends, is lonely and yearns to be loved. In the absence
of love, she settles for attention.

At times, she feels she is choosing Mark over her son. She has visions
of her baby crying out, "Why aren't you picking me, Mommy?"

"Being a mom scares the s--- out of me, " she says, dropping her gaze
to the floor, her brassy blond hair sweeping across her face, like a
curtain being drawn to hide her tears.

But staying clean and breaking up with Mark are things Tina says she
needs to do.

"I really don't want to see my son adopted out. It would literally
kill me to know that my son is gone because of what I have done."

He would be the second child lost because of her drug use. About 2 1/2
years ago, when she was heavy into crack, she had an abortion. She
couldn't bear to lose another child.

Her son makes her feel worthy. His cherubic face, big blue eyes and
wispy blond hair prove she's not a total screw-up. Since being home,
she's been consumed with regaining custody. On special days, she sees
her son during visits at the Children's Aid Society, under the
watchful eye of a counsellor.

With no driver's licence, it's not easy for Tina to get from her small
town of Almonte, west of Ottawa, to her appointments. Her datebook is
filled with meetings with an addictions counsellor, a trauma
counsellor and Alcoholics Anonymous. Often, she hitches rides with
other AA members, her "real true friends."

Her schedule makes it tough to attend school full-time, so Tina, who
only completed Grade 9, is going to an alternative school. She dreams
of being a chef.

She says she doesn't allow any drugs or alcohol in her home, but the
urges are still there, especially when she is frustrated or anxious.
On those days, she calms herself with a long walk, avoiding the LCBO.
Otherwise, her mouth waters and her body shakes.

She tries to quell her cravings by chain-smoking about 50 cigarettes a
day, calling her AA sponsor, writing in her journal or beating a
kitchen chair with a swimming noodle - an exercise learned in rehab.

She sometimes wakes up, screaming and sweating, from dreams about
drinking and using cocaine.

The dreams started back in January when she made the seven-hour trek
to Hope Place Women's Treatment Centre in Milton to join a 24-day
residential program.

She was set on getting clean. Before leaving home, she changed her
answering machine message: "Hey, this is Tina, I've recently made
changes in my life and if I don't give you a call back then you're one
of them. Have a good day."

Back in her kitchen, Tina is startled when the phone rings. It's her
lawyer calling about an upcoming date in family court. He tells Tina
the Children's Aid Society will be seeking custody of her son for four
more months.

During that time, Tina will have to make big life changes and agree to
random drug tests. If she stays clean, she will see more of her son.
If not, he'll become a Crown ward.

As her lawyer speaks, Tina frantically scribbles on a piece of paper.
Notes help remind her of what she needs to do. Upstairs, her bathroom
mirror is filled with affirmations on yellow Post-it notes, which she
reads aloud. She doesn't always believe them, but she says that in
recovery, you have to fake it until you make it. One reads: "I Tina am
a strong-willed woman."

She listens to the lawyer attentively and writes a list of changes she
needs to make: "Good jugement. Responsibility. No men. I need to
demenstrait a good life."

At the end of their conversation, she hangs up and tilts her head up,
covering her eyes with her hands.

Inhaling deeply, she says, "I need to break up with Mark and I need to
do it now."

Tina calls a friend who lives down the street. Mark has skipped school
and is there. She heads for the door and grabs her notes.

Until now, Tina has mistaken sex for love, which for years resulted in
abusive relationships. Her mom, she says, was left bloodied and
bruised by some boyfriends.

At age 14, Tina was raped when she passed out drunk at a party. By 15
she was turning tricks to buy drugs. When her son was born, stool
tests revealed traces of cocaine and large amounts of marijuana. She
was allowed to take him home but six months later the Children's Aid
Society took him when Tina admitted to smoking marijuana and leaving
him with unapproved caregivers.

Since then, she has been trying to get him back. His crib is filled
with stuffed animals and unused toys.

As she goes in search of Mark, fists clenched, she is focused. She
bangs on the door of her friend's home and steps into a dark,
smoke-filled living room. Clothing and garbage are strewn about. Mark
sits silently on a couch, bewildered.

Tina steps into the room and looks at her notes for her cue. Her right
leg shakes nervously. She pulls on her cigarette and begins.

"I can't risk losing my son because of you. I love you but it's over,"
she says, removing a necklace he gave her and throwing it at him.

She turns, wipes a tear, and leaves. Back home, reminders of her son
are everywhere - an empty bouncy chair, photos of him in a Santa hat.

"All I want is my son in my life," says Tina. "I need to make changes
and I just made the biggest one."