By: Bonnie Miller Rubin

Tucked into the rolling hills of southwest Wisconsin, you’ll find a sight as rare as a unicorn: A residence solely dedicated to young adults with FASD.

The tidy ranch, nestled on almost five acres, is home to four young women, who are only too eager to show you around. There’s a chicken coop, a donkey and a manicured yard. Inside, you’ll find their individually-decorated bedrooms and a spotless kitchen, where they make and package the baked goods that they’ll sell at the farmer’s market on Saturday. In the evenings, you’ll find the quartet gathered in the cozy living room, watching a movie or working on crafts or a jigsaw puzzle.

“No matter what else happens, this will always be my finest accomplishment,” said Gigi Davidson, founder and CEO of FASD Communities, a nation-wide nonprofit group of parents and other advocates which opened the home in 2018. “This is our legacy.”

Finding appropriate housing for individuals with FASD is a glaring hole in the safety net that families have worked so hard to knit. After years of searching for the right clinicians, medications, schools, activities and therapies, parents watch helplessly as all their hard work unravels when their kids reach the age of 18 or 21. More often than not, the kids are on the street, unemployed, locked up, addicted or pregnant by so-called “friends.”

While there is no cure for prenatal exposure to alcohol, researchers know how to reduce the worst outcomes: Relentless structure, supportive housing, the routine of employment, along with job coaches and mentors who can function as an “external brain.” Yet, despite the fact that FASD is considered a significant public health burden that impacts one in 20 Americans, there’s not a single residence solely dedicated to this population.

“If you drop these kids into society at age 18, they’re toast,” said Natalie Novick Brown, a forensic psychologist at the University of Washington.

Davidson’s son, Jenya, was one of those kids. Adopted at age three from Russia, he exhibited academic and behavior problems by first grade, attending 10 schools over the next 12 years.

However, when he hit 18, “it was like falling off a cliff,” said his mom. She ticked off a long list of his stunningly bad choices, such as his concealing an automatic rifle, befriending a 39-year sex offender (“I woke up to find this guy sleeping on my living room couch”) and siphoning money from her bank account. (“He denied it, even though he could be clearly seen on the bank’s security cameras.”)

Eventually, Jenya became homeless, living out of his car, which filled his mom with a constant sense of dread. “There were so many nights when I cried into my pillow…I knew I had to do something because I couldn’t keep living like this.”

Typically, group homes in the U.S. have long waiting lists and are designed for people with autism, cerebral palsy or severe mental health conditions, such as schizophrenia. They are usually a poor fit for individuals with FASD, who may have average IQs, but are impulsive, struggle with controlling their emotions, process information slower and have difficulty seeing the connection between “cause” and “effect.”

So, Davidson, who has experience in both the banking and nonprofit worlds, rolled up her sleeves and started envisioning an environment where Jenya – and other young adults like him — could be safe, productive and form appropriate friendships.

She reached out to other parents, relatives and business contacts from her native Milwaukee and FASD Communities was born. (Full disclosure: I was part of the original task force.)

After a few false starts, the group purchased the Platteville property in 2016 for about $200,000. But fundraising was an uphill battle and it would take another two years to do repairs, furnish, acquire the necessary licensing, hire and train staff before the doors could officially open in 2018.

The timetable took so much longer than expected that Jenya – the intended beneficiary of all this sweat equity – wanted no part of group living. So Davidson, who has lived in Hawaii since 1978, turned her attention to assisting others whose kids were in dire need of housing. (Now 33, Jenya lives in an apartment in Honolulu owned by his mother).

“After previous placements in four adult family homes, we discovered FASD Communities. This home has provided us with a sense of comfort and reassurance knowing that our daughter is protected, understood and well taken care of…Most importantly, she is happy.”

-Cindy Mueller

Finally, four young women – all in their 20s – moved in and are thriving, much to the relief of their parents.

“Pray…that’s all we could do, as we had exhausted all of our resources finding a home that would understand our daughter’s special needs,” recalled Cindy Mueller, mother of Monica. “After previous placements in four adult family homes, we discovered FASD Communities. This home has provided us with a sense of comfort and reassurance knowing that our daughter is protected, understood and well taken care of…Most importantly, she is happy. Based on what we’ve been through, we truly believe our prayers have been answered.”

The monthly tab is about $8,000 per resident, most of which is covered by long-term Medicaid waivers (the remainder is covered by donations).

The biggest expense: Around-the clock caregivers which account for 85 percent of the annual budget. They understand FASD and play a key role in the home’s success, acting more like mentors. The residents who have been there since Day 1 never need to worry about “aging out” because they can stay as long as they like.

Unlike most nonprofits, the only paid staff are the 15 employees in Platteville. Everyone else – including Davidson and the group’s accountant – receive no salary, which helps keep a tight rein on the bottom line.

Of course, there have been bumps along the way, including some opposition from neighbors who feared “troublemakers” when the home first opened. Since then, the girls have won over the locals who have met them at the farmer’s market or volunteering at the senior center or thrift shop. Today, by all reports, they are woven into the fabric of the community.

Still, Davidson knows that saving four lives does not put a dent into this underserved population. With a successful model up and running, she’d like to see (and assist) other groups replicate similar homes nation-wide.

“Every week, I receive calls from desperate parents struggling to find a solution. We know what works; we just need more people to join in… more resources, more investment, more of everything. We can and must do better if we’re ever going to build a brighter future.”

For more information, see FASD Communities or call 808-523-8191.

Bonnie Miller Rubin is a writer, editor, speaker, and strategist who provides and curates content for a variety of platforms. She is a regular contributor to the Wall Street Journal. As a Chicago Tribune reporter for 25 years she specialized in health and family issues, covering stories on marginalized populations including FASD.