Fentanyl Addiction During Pregnancy: How Keeping Her Baby Rescued Both Lives.
Eight months pregnant and in severe pain, Stephanie Rosell visited the medical facility after an infection began spreading up her legs. Jobless and without shelter, separated from loved ones, she stayed in a makeshift shelter she had constructed in a friend’s yard. She was also addicted to fentanyl.
As physicians addressed her infection, she started to feel anxious. Symptoms of withdrawal emerged. She leaned over the bed and became sick.
Stephanie ultimately gave in. “I need to leave. I have to go home and get high.”
She had consumed opioids before seeking medical help and had just enough time to get treated before she had to return to relapse. She thought she still had several weeks to find a way to become sober and deliver her child.
The attending nurse disagreed. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the leg infection was serious, but medical staff detected she also had an leakage of amniotic fluid. The nurse, her nurse, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would be at risk of death.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie regulated amounts of fentanyl periodically, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be transitioned to methadone, a drug that alleviates cravings and is frequently utilized in addiction recovery.
A short time later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie delivered a daughter weighing 4lb 8oz – born before term, tiny yet healthy.
When the nurse asked if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “not now.” She was detached. Her pain relief did not work, her previous intake of fentanyl had been administered shortly before she gave birth.
She felt unwell. Ill-equipped for parenting. Not fit.
Stephanie had sought recovery several times during pregnancy, and felt awful each time she failed. She felt without value, blaming herself for not being able to achieve the unattainable. An doctor told her to “just” stop using. Even her dealer declined to supply to her when she became clearly expecting.
“However, I failed,” she said. “I required assistance.”
The widespread belief that her affection for her child would make her stop using only led to deeper self-loathing and negative self-talk, a impetus for her to relapse. Yet she could not simply will her addiction away, any more than she could overcome a persistent condition.
The newborn was transferred to the NICU. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was attached to monitors, so tiny she thought she would break her. Embracing her at last, she felt detached. “I gazed upon her and was like, ‘What am I going to do with you?’” She remained uncertain she wanted to be her mother.
After two days 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 a care center, a unique recovery environment where parents and infants affected by substance use are cared for jointly, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is identified with neonatal abstinence syndrome (NAS) every 18 minutes, infants are still rushed to special care and medicated while their mothers face parental assessments. But a limited but expanding group of centers like this facility is demonstrating a key fact: when families are kept intact, outcomes improve, custody cases decrease and overall savings increase.
It took Stephanie a while to gather the courage to call, but she eventually made the call. After verifying her eligibility for the program, a couple of employees came to collect her.
She stepped out of the hospital still in withdrawal, fearful and unsure about what would happen next.
At Maddie’s Place, Stephanie still worried that CPS would come take Izzie – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The concern persisted: that at any moment, someone could walk in and take her baby away.
For the first two weeks, Stephanie stayed withdrawn. “I didn’t really want anything to do with any of them,” she said. “I didn’t have a lot of trust at that point.”
Life on the streets, she said, was about enduring. Drugs came first; reliance came last.
Stephanie had a single companion, but even that connection was tenuous. The those close to her always found ways to cause pain. She was unable to value herself, not to mention anyone else.
Each day, staff from the center took her to a recovery program, provided orally. Gradually, she was beginning recovery.
She spent every minute beyond therapy with Izzie, and could see that her baby was receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her girl had some trouble feeding at first, with intolerance to some formulas and severe digestive problems. She needed dietary support. She also had sensory challenges and required an specialist – all frequent conditions for babies born with NAS.
If this little kid could see that these babies deserve to be loved, then I was capable. I would become a mother.
One afternoon before Thanksgiving, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where those still using can come for monitored interactions with their babies. An advocate, a mentor, came over with her own family in tow to drop off cookies. They all crowded near Stephanie, who was resting on the carpet holding Izzie.
The young ones stared in awe of the tiny infant in Stephanie’s arms. “They had no care in the world,” Stephanie said. “They overlooked my addiction. Such issues were irrelevant.”
She holds a picture of the moment. She is clad in casual attire, a gray knit hat with a bobble on her head, sitting on the wooden floor with the door behind her. She is lean. Her head is tilted forward so you miss her features. She is lifting the baby on her lap for the young ones to see and they are standing close, admiring and touching to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the mothers: “Why are there no men?” The women attempted to clarify that the men were occupied, called away to other tasks, that they would be there if they could.
“When I have kids,” Jacob said, “I plan to be a great parent. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and her companion looked at each other. “I just lost it and fell apart,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that these babies deserve to be loved, then I was able. I could be a mom.”
Methods to address infants affected by substances have been used for a long time.
The evaluation method was established in 1975|
