By Callie Triller & Jake Maher
This story appears in the 5th Annual LIFTS Magazine, where Montana parents share honest experiences about connection, resilience, and the journey through early parenthood.
By Jake:
Before my son Ryan was born, my life was spiraling out of control. I wasn’t a productive member of society, and was just lost. I was in jail when I discovered I’d become a dad, and Ryan’s mother and I were no longer together.
I eventually got into the drug court program, and went to treatment, and that’s when Callie and her family got involved as foster parents.
I started doing weekly video calls with them, which Child Protective Services (CPS) encouraged. Callie sent me a notebook and a pen, and said if you want to write a letter to Ryan, we’ll read it to him, so I did. She and her family were so supportive of me. They sent care packages while I was in treatment, they sent pictures and a photo album, and wrote to me about what it had been like since the day they got him. They saw me as a person who was struggling and needed a lot of extra encouragement, and were always helping work towards the goal of reunification. When I got back from treatment, Callie would drive Ryan to me for my supervised visits, twice a week for an hour each.
I took parenting classes, got enrolled in an intensive outpatient program, and went to 12-step meetings. Ryan was the reason I didn’t give up. I didn’t really look at that as an option at that point. I just wanted to be with him.
When he finally came to live with me, I continued these efforts, attending recovery meetings and taking every parenting class that I could. I wasn’t court-ordered to do these things, but felt it was necessary to keep me on the path that I was on. I wanted to take full advantage of every opportunity I could that would give me greater chances of having Ryan permanently. I’ve learned that the more you put into something, the more you get out of it. That’s why I went all out, and did everything I possibly could to better my chances of getting him back. I work full-time, Monday through Friday, and Ryan goes to daycare. He’s just started walking, and has been communicating more. It’s not so much like a guessing game anymore – he can actually let me know what he wants. The communication between the two of us, growing together, and having the bond that we do is a huge win.
Eighteen months ago, I never would’ve thought that I’d be where I am today.
By Callie:
When we started fostering, we knew we would need every resource at our disposal. With every placement, it held true – we needed friends, babysitters, doctors, and community to support us so we could love and support each child who walked in our doors. Baby Ryan was no exception. He came to us straight from the NICU after a pre-term birth, and we immediately enlisted as many friends as we could to take turns holding and rocking him, knowing he needed all the love we could provide.
As a child in Montana’s foster care system, Ryan qualified for many public benefits, including Medicaid, WIC, and the Best Beginnings Scholarship. Through Medicaid, we were able to quickly connect with an occupational therapist familiar with feeding premature infants. She educated us on proper bottle placement and techniques to allow him to drink as much formula as he could so that he would grow stronger. His occupational therapist also worked to provide him positive sensory touch, and coach us on how to best care for him as his body and brain developed outside of the womb.
Medicaid also paid for all of his well-child check-ups. Over the course of the year that Ryan lived with us, his primary care provider helped us navigate some difficult illnesses and directed us to the proper treatments when there were milestones he was slow to meet.
We connected Ryan with the WIC program, which paid for most of his formula throughout the first year, helped track his growth and development, and provided us with nutrition support as Ryan transitioned to solid foods.
Once Ryan worked his way into a more routine schedule and got bigger and stronger, we enrolled him at a high-quality early childhood program in our community, utilizing the Best Beginnings Scholarship, a state-funded program that helps families cover the costs of childcare.
We had no idea that one of the coolest parts of fostering Ryan would be getting to know his biological parent. I remember learning that Jake had chosen to go to treatment and I literally cheered! When he asked to do Zoom visits through treatment, we were so happy to help make that happen. As soon as possible, we wanted Ryan to know his dad, and for Jake to be continually motivated by all the sweet coo’s and big brown eyes Ryan could give.
After Jake finished treatment, and in-person visits started, we got to know him even better – seeing him at least once per week. We were inspired by his hard work and dedication to both his sobriety and his parenting. He was utilizing every resource he could for himself, just as we were utilizing every resource we could to support Ryan.
As visits progressed from “supervised” to “monitored”, and then from a day at a time to overnight, we got to witness Jake and Ryan’s bond flourish until our very final handoff. I was tearful, as I knew I was saying goodbye to the sweet little boy who had lived with us for the past 15 months. But Ryan crawled right over to Jake who picked him up. He then looked at me with a big smile and just waved. He knew he was home.
Professional photos by Highland Creative Solutions.
Visit hmhb-lifts.org for local resources using the search terms “Family Support & Education”, “Substance Use Disorder Treatment Providers”, and “Birthing & Parenting Classes”.
I grew up watching my mom ride the highs and lows of her emotions. From a young age, I knew sadness and tears. Born and raised in Santiago, Chile, I took medication and did therapy through high school just to survive the day and ride horses after. That world kept me sane.
jaundiced, and breastfeeding struggled. Reed went out to feed cows every day, and the four walls felt tight. I needed help. After a couple fights, I admitted my jealousy that he could leave while I couldn’t. Then my father-in-law started taking the baby and me to see the horses nearly every day. I also asked my doctor for my “happy pills,” which help me be happier.
Maternity leave in the U.S. is hard—you work like you have no kids and raise kids like you don’t work. Not all jobs offer more than four to six weeks, so you have to be lucky. I wish more people knew they could ask for help and use resources, even when money is tight. Small steps to care for yourself make each day easier.
enseñanza media tomé medicación e hice terapia solo para sobrevivir el día y montar a caballo después. Ese mundo me mantenía cuerda.
Cuando nació nuestro primer hijo, pasé por todo: tristeza posparto, emoción, nervios, pena y miedo. Era invierno, en plena COVID, el bebé era pequeño, tenía ictericia y la lactancia no funcionaba bien. Reed salía todos los días a alimentar las vacas y esas cuatro paredes se sentían pequeñas. Necesitaba ayuda. Tras un par de discusiones, le confesé que sentía celos de que él pudiera salir y yo no. Entonces, mi suegro empezó a llevarnos al bebé y a mí a ver los caballos casi todos los días. También pedí a mi doctora mis “pastillas felices,” que me ayudan a estar mejor.
It can be challenging to make friends in your adult life. I can’t count the number of times I’ve tried to connect with people and then they don’t ever call back. I just really crave that community.
The moms group was an hour’s drive away, and the first time I went I was nervous, but excited to be out of the house by myself, listening to music as loud as I wanted. I felt like I had a grip on a little of me. When you become a mom, you can lose yourself, and it’s all about figuring out how to reinvent.
A Family Care Space is a space where mothers, parents, and families can come to feed their babies, change their baby’s diaper, and receive educational materials, and most importantly connect with local BirthWorkers. While the concept of Family Care Spaces at public events is not the first of its kind, the meaning of this movement for Tribal Communities in Montana lies in something deeper: the reclamation of Indigenous traditional ways.
collective support. Parenting was not meant to be done in isolation but in community. It takes a village to raise a child.
Maternal Mental Health Month
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