A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: The Decision to Keep Her Child Transformed Their Futures.
Eight months pregnant and in severe pain, Stephanie Rosell went to the ER after an infection began spreading up her legs. Without a job or home, separated from loved ones, she resided in a small structure she had constructed in a companion's property. She was also dependent on fentanyl.
As doctors treated her infection, she started to feel anxious. The onset of withdrawal began. She bent over the bedside and vomited.
Stephanie ultimately gave in. “I need to leave. I have to go home and get high.”
She had used fentanyl before arriving at the hospital and had just enough time to get treated before she was compelled to leave to relapse. She thought she still had several weeks to find a way to become sober and give birth.
The medical professional intervened. She told Stephanie she was staying put.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the leg infection was severe, but physicians found she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she walked out, she and her baby would face grave danger.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie regulated amounts of fentanyl periodically, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be transitioned to methadone, a drug that alleviates cravings and is frequently utilized in rehabilitation.
After five days, on a day in November 2022, Stephanie delivered a daughter weighing a small weight – premature, little but surviving.
When the caregiver questioned if she wanted to hold her baby, Stephanie said “not now.” She was detached. Her anesthesia was ineffective, her final administration of fentanyl had been administered four hours before delivery.
She felt ill. Unprepared to be a mother. Unworthy.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety repeatedly before birth, and felt terrible each time she was unsuccessful. She felt hopeless, blaming herself for not being able to do the impossible. An OBGYN told her to “simply” stop using. Even her source would not provide to her when she became obviously with child.
“However, I failed,” she said. “I needed help.”
The common assumption that her bond with her newborn would make her quit only led to increased guilt and self-harm, a impetus for her to relapse. Yet she could not easily command her addiction away, any more than she could eliminate a long-term illness.
The baby was taken to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie at last met her, she was hooked up to medical equipment, so small she thought she would hurt her. Embracing her at last, she felt detached. “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.
Following a brief period she decided to name her baby the same as her nurse, after the professional who provided support to her.
Nurses and doctors told her about Maddie’s Place, a new kind of care center where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are treated together, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is identified with infant withdrawal condition every 18 minutes, infants are still whisked to NICUs and given drugs while their mothers face custody evaluations. But a limited but expanding group of centers like this facility is showing an important truth: when parents and infants remain united, recovery succeeds, foster placements fall and long-term costs decline.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she ultimately reached out. After ensuring she qualified for the program, care providers came to collect her.
She stepped out of the hospital still in withdrawal, scared and uncertain about what would come next.
At the facility, Stephanie still feared that authorities would come take Izzie – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The anxiety remained: that at any moment, someone could arrive and remove her child.
For the initial fortnight, Stephanie remained isolated. “I avoided interaction,” she said. “I was suspicious at that point.”
Homelessness, she said, was about enduring. Substances came first; faith came last.
Stephanie had a trusted ally, but even that bond was fragile. The those close to her always found ways to cause pain. She lacked the ability to love herself, much less anyone else.
Every day, staff from the facility transported her to a clinic for methadone, given as medication. Gradually, she was embracing sobriety.
She utilized each moment when not in sessions with Izzie, and could see that her baby was obtaining necessary support she needed. Her girl had some trouble feeding at first, with adverse reactions to milk and severe digestive problems. She needed dietary support. She also had increased sensitivity and required an specialist – all typical problems for babies affected by withdrawal.
If this little kid could see that these babies deserve to be loved, then I found the strength. I could parent.
One afternoon before Thanksgiving, Stephanie sat in the visitation area, where parents in active addiction can come for monitored interactions with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a recovery coach, stopped by with her own family in tow to bring treats. They all assembled beside Stephanie, who was sitting on the floor holding Izzie.
The young ones stared in wonder of the small baby in Stephanie’s arms. “They showed no judgment,” Stephanie said. “My past did not matter to them. None of those things mattered to them.”
She has an image of the moment. She is clad in casual attire, a beanie with a pompom on her head, resting on the floor with the entryway at her back. She is thin. Her face is downcast so you cannot see her face. She is holding Izzie up on her lap for the young ones to see and they are gathered around, showing interest to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the moms: “What about the fathers?” The women attempted to clarify that the men were occupied, called away to other tasks, that they would be there if they could.
“Once I become a parent,” Jacob said, “I plan to be a great parent. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and Bunch-Smith looked at each other. “I just lost it and fell apart,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that these babies deserve to be loved, then I was able. I could be a mom.”
Methods to address babies with exposure have been used for a long time.
The evaluation method was established in 1975|
