A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: The Decision to Keep Her Child Rescued Both Lives.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, Stephanie Rosell visited the medical facility 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 medical staff managed her infection, she grew increasingly fearful. The onset of withdrawal began. She slumped forward and threw up.
Stephanie eventually collapsed. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and take a hit.”
She had consumed opioids before arriving at the hospital and had sufficient opportunity to get treated before she was compelled to leave to get high again. She thought she still had several weeks to plan her recovery and have this baby.
The attending nurse disagreed. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the doctors would not let her go: the leg infection was critical, but physicians found she also had an leakage of amniotic fluid. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would be at risk of death.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl periodically, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a treatment that reduces symptoms and is commonly used in addiction recovery.
A short time later, on the 12th of November, Stephanie gave birth to a baby girl weighing 4lb 8oz – early, small but alive.
When the nurse asked if she wanted to hold her baby, Stephanie said “I cannot.” She was detached. Her anesthesia was ineffective, her final administration of fentanyl had been administered shortly before she gave birth.
She felt sick. Not ready for motherhood. Unworthy.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety multiple times while expecting, and felt awful each time she was unsuccessful. She felt without value, berating herself for not being able to achieve the unattainable. An OBGYN told her to “only” stop using. Even her dealer would not provide to her when she became visibly pregnant.
“However, I failed,” she said. “I had to seek support.”
The pervasive expectation that her love for her baby would make her stop using only led to increased guilt and negative self-talk, a impetus for her to use again. Yet she could not easily command her addiction away, any more than she could eliminate a persistent condition.
The newborn was transferred to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was hooked up to medical equipment, so small she thought she would break her. Cradling her initially, she felt empty. “I gazed upon her and was like, ‘What is our future?’” She still wasn’t sure she wanted to be her mother.
After two days she decided to give her child the name Izzie, after the professional who provided support to her.
Medical personnel told her about Maddie’s Place, a unique recovery environment where parents and infants affected by substance use are treated together, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is diagnosed with newborn addiction symptoms frequently, infants are still rushed to special care and medicated while their mothers face parental assessments. But a developing system of centers like the care home is demonstrating a key fact: when mothers and babies stay together, recovery succeeds, custody cases decrease and long-term costs decline.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she eventually made the call. After ensuring she qualified for the program, a couple of employees came to pick her up.
She left the medical center still in withdrawal, anxious and doubtful about what would come next.
At Maddie’s Place, Stephanie still feared that authorities would come seize her child – even though she was not sure she wanted to keep her. The concern persisted: that at any point, someone could arrive and separate them.
For the beginning period, Stephanie kept to herself. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I lacked confidence at that point.”
Homelessness, she said, was about getting by. Addiction came first; faith came last.
Stephanie had a single companion, but even that relationship was delicate. The individuals she cared for always found ways to let her down. She did not know how to care for herself, much less anyone else.
Daily, staff from Maddie’s Place transported her to a clinic for methadone, administered in pill form. Gradually, she was beginning recovery.
She devoted all her time outside treatment with Izzie, and could see that her baby was getting the specialized care she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with sensitivity to certain foods and obvious stomach troubles. She needed dietary support. She also had heightened sensory issues and required an specialist – all common issues for babies exposed to substances.
If this little kid could see that these babies deserve to be loved, then I found the strength. I could parent.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie sat in the visitation area, where parents in active addiction can come for guided meetings with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a recovery coach, visited with her own children in tow to drop off cookies. They all gathered around Stephanie, who was sitting on the floor holding Izzie.
The children were wide-eyed in wonder of the small baby in Stephanie’s arms. “They showed no judgment,” Stephanie said. “They didn’t care that I had used drugs with her. None of those things mattered to them.”
She has an image of the moment. She is clad in black pants and a hoodie, a cap with a bobble on her head, resting on the floor with the door behind her. She is slender. Her posture is humble so you cannot see her face. She is holding Izzie up on her knee for the other kids to see and they are crowding near, fawning and reaching out to the baby.
A young boy, eight, asked the moms: “Why are there no men?” The women attempted to clarify that the dads were busy, engaged elsewhere, that they would be there given the chance.
“When I have kids,” Jacob said, “I plan to be a great parent. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and her companion exchanged glances. “I became emotional,” Stephanie said. “If this little kid could see that these babies deserve to be loved, then I was able. I would become a mother.”
Tools for treating drug-exposed newborns have been available for years.
The evaluation method was created in 1975|
