Fentanyl Addiction During Pregnancy: Choosing Motherhood Rescued Both Lives.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, Stephanie Rosell arrived at the medical facility after an infection began spreading up her legs. Unemployed and homeless, estranged from her family, she resided in a small structure she had constructed in a acquaintance's garden. She was also dependent on fentanyl.
As doctors treated her infection, she started to feel anxious. Withdrawal was setting in. She leaned over the bed and became sick.
Stephanie eventually collapsed. “I need to leave. I have to go home and use drugs.”
She had consumed opioids before coming to the ER and had only a brief window to get treated before she had to return to use once more. She thought she still had a month remaining to find a way to become sober and deliver her child.
The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was not allowed to leave.
“I am leaving,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the infection in her legs was critical, but physicians found she also had an ruptured membrane. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would be at risk of death.
She encouraged the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl at regular intervals, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be switched to methadone, a drug that alleviates cravings and is commonly used in addiction recovery.
After five days, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie gave birth to a baby girl weighing a small weight – premature, tiny yet healthy.
When the attendant inquired if she wanted to hold her baby, Stephanie said “I cannot.” She was detached. Her epidural had failed, her previous intake of fentanyl had been administered a few hours prior to birth.
She felt sick. Unprepared to be a mother. Unworthy.
Stephanie had sought recovery several times during pregnancy, and felt awful each time she failed. She felt worthless, berating herself for not being able to overcome the challenge. An OBGYN told her to “simply” stop using. Even her supplier declined to supply to her when she became obviously with child.
“Yet I was unable,” she said. “I required assistance.”
The common assumption that her bond with her newborn would make her stop using only led to greater shame and self-harm, a impetus for her to use again. Yet she could not simply will her addiction away, any more than she could will away a chronic disease.
The newborn was transferred to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie eventually visited her, she was attached to medical equipment, so little she thought she would harm her. Cradling her initially, she felt empty. “I just stared at her and was like, ‘What am I going to do with you?’” She remained uncertain she wanted to be her mother.
Two days later she decided to give her child the name the same as her nurse, after the professional who provided support to her.
Nurses and doctors told her about a specialized facility, a innovative treatment home where women and their babies are supported as a unit, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is found to have newborn addiction symptoms every 18 minutes, infants are still quickly moved to hospitals and medicated while their mothers face parental assessments. But a developing system of centers like Maddie’s Place is showing an important truth: when parents and infants remain united, recovery succeeds, fewer children enter care and future expenses reduce.
It took Stephanie a while to gather the courage to call, but she ultimately reached out. After confirming she would be a good fit for the program, a couple of employees came to bring her to the facility.
She left the medical center still in detox, anxious and doubtful about what would come next.
At the facility, Stephanie still feared that CPS would come remove her daughter – even though she was not sure she wanted to keep her. The fear lingered: that at any moment, someone could walk in and remove her child.
For the beginning period, Stephanie stayed withdrawn. “I didn’t really want anything to do with any of them,” she said. “I lacked confidence at that point.”
Homelessness, she said, was about survival. Addiction came first; reliance came last.
Stephanie had a single companion, but even that connection was tenuous. The people she loved always found ways to cause pain. She was unable to value herself, not to mention anyone else.
Daily, staff from the center drove her to a recovery program, administered in pill form. Gradually, she was embracing sobriety.
She devoted all her time beyond therapy with Izzie, and could see that her baby was obtaining necessary support she needed. Her girl had some trouble feeding at first, with sensitivity to certain foods and pronounced gastrointestinal issues. She needed feeding therapy. She also had increased sensitivity and required an occupational therapist – all frequent conditions for babies affected by withdrawal.
When a child recognizes these infants need affection, then I found the strength. I would become a mother.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where parents in active addiction can come for monitored interactions with their babies. An advocate, a recovery coach, visited with her own five kids in tow to bring treats. They all assembled beside Stephanie, who was seated on the ground holding Izzie.
The children were wide-eyed in admiration of the little newborn in Stephanie’s arms. “They were innocent,” Stephanie said. “My past did not matter to them. None of those things mattered to them.”
She keeps a photo of the moment. She is wearing black pants and a hoodie, a beanie with a decoration on her head, seated on the ground with the exit nearby. She is lean. Her face is downcast so you do not see her expression. She is holding Izzie up on her knee for the children to see and they are gathered around, admiring and touching to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the moms: “Where are all the dads?” The moms tried to explain that the men were occupied, handling responsibilities, that they would be there if possible.
“When I have kids,” Jacob said, “I’m going to be the best dad ever. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and her companion made eye contact. “I just lost it and fell apart,” Stephanie said. “If this little kid could see that newborns require care, then I could do this. I could be a mom.”
Methods to address infants affected by substances have been used for a long time.
The assessment tool was created in 1975|
