Mom's son "happy" but still ailing

In a box in her house, there's an unpaid air ambulance bill for $10,000, a stark reminder of the nightmare that overtook their lives after Carlsen sneaked Riley out of Children's Hospital & Regional Medical Center in Seattle.

At the time, Riley was legally in the custody of state child-protective services. The agency had taken over in early June, alleging that Riley was in danger of serious harm because Carlsen insisted on alternative treatments.

When Carlsen took Riley, the state issued a statewide Amber Alert — the same as if a stranger had abducted the boy. Police found Carlsen and Riley in Yelm about two days later.

Riley, supposedly in "imminent danger" from a "life-threatening" condition, was whisked to Children's by air ambulance. Doctors there later backtracked, saying Riley hadn't actually been in imminent danger, but was "very vulnerable" to a "life-threatening situation."

Later, doctors said that if left untreated, failing kidneys in babies cause deteriorating bones and growth problems. Ultimately, many children require a transplant, which is usually not done until age 2 or 3.

Carlsen, charged with second-degree kidnapping, was taken to jail and held on $500,000 bail. She spent five days there, frantically working with supporters outside to deliver breast milk to Riley, before being released on personal recognizance.

In August, Carlsen pleaded guilty to a reduced charge of second-degree custodial interference, avoiding more jail time by promising to follow court-ordered conditions, including doctors' treatment recommendations for Riley.

On probation until September 2007, Carlsen has sent her other two children, ages 14 and 16, to live with her father in Arizona. "At least they'll be warm," said Carlsen, who has closed off part of the house with a quilt so she doesn't have to heat it.

An animated 35-year-old, Carlsen marvels at Riley, her "nature boy" whose first word in the morning is a demand to go "Outside!"

At 20 pounds and about 27 inches tall, Riley is small for his age; doctors want to give him growth hormones, Rogers says, but he and Carlsen question that approach. They're working with nutritionists at Children's, he says, to help Riley gain weight. He gets extra nutrients through a tube implanted in his abdomen.

Despite Riley's kidney troubles, "That kid couldn't be happier," Rogers said. "That's the part we're so blessed on."

Most of Riley's kidney-test results haven't improved on dialysis, his parents say.

"From the beginning, we've had to trust our own instincts," Carlsen said. "More so than the medical professionals."

Carlsen says she's not bitter. "I'm cautious. ... And I have to forgive them, because it's their training."

Has she done that?

"I have and I haven't," she admitted. "I teeter back and forth. I still hang onto my life before this. And it was so happy. And now it's sort of ... mediocre. But everybody is alive and well, and I have faith we'll be able to bounce back from this. Hopefully, a lot of other people will learn from it, too."

Financially, the ordeal has been devastating, Carlsen and Rogers say. Rogers, who cared for Riley until Carlsen was given court clearance, only recently returned to his construction job, and Riley's Social Security disability checks just cover rent.

"Our lives are totally different because of this," Rogers said. "Me and Tina are broken up now, and I don't necessarily think we would have been."

Before, Carlsen said, "We had a beautiful farmhouse. We were looking forward to planting a garden. Now we both live in shambles. We're pretty strapped. I didn't even get a Christmas tree."

But next year, Carlsen says, is going to be better.

"Todd and I have been talking a lot about forgiveness. It's huge — huge, huge, huge!" she said.

Sometimes, Carlsen imagines talking to the doctor who reported her to the state earlier this year.

"I know she's got to feel awful," Carlsen said. "She's got to, because she's a really nice person. I'd tell her, 'I realize it's what you thought was best. But I'm his mother, and God made me his guardian for a reason.' "

Carol M. Ostrom: 206-464-2249 or costrom@seattletimes.com