A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: The Decision to Keep Her Child Transformed Their Futures.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, Stephanie Rosell went to the medical facility after a serious infection started to spread up her legs. Without a job or home, cut off from her relatives, she stayed in a makeshift shelter she had assembled in a companion's property. She was also dependent on fentanyl.
As physicians addressed her infection, she grew increasingly fearful. The onset of withdrawal began. She slumped forward and threw up.
Stephanie finally broke down. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and get high.”
She had used fentanyl before coming to the ER and had sufficient opportunity to get treated before she was compelled to leave to use once more. She thought she still had four weeks left to find a way to become sober and deliver her child.
The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the doctors would not let her go: the condition in her limbs was serious, but medical staff detected she also had an leakage of amniotic fluid. The nurse, her nurse, warned her: if she left, she and her baby would not survive.
Izzie persuaded the doctor to give Stephanie regulated amounts of fentanyl every few hours, knowing that symptoms could threaten her and the baby. Post-birth Stephanie would be switched to methadone, a drug that alleviates cravings and is frequently utilized in addiction recovery.
A short time later, on the 12th of November, Stephanie gave birth to a daughter weighing just over four pounds – premature, tiny yet healthy.
When the attendant inquired if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “no.” She was numb. Her anesthesia was ineffective, her last dose of fentanyl had been administered a few hours prior to birth.
She felt sick. Not ready for motherhood. Not fit.
Stephanie had tried to get clean multiple times while expecting, and felt awful each time she failed. She felt without value, berating herself for not being able to do the impossible. An doctor told her to “only” stop using. Even her source refused to sell to her when she became obviously with child.
“However, I failed,” she said. “I needed help.”
The pervasive expectation that her love for her baby would make her quit only led to greater shame and negative self-talk, a trigger for her to use again. Yet she could not just wish her addiction away, any more than she could eliminate a chronic disease.
The baby was taken to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie at last met her, she was connected to monitors, so little she thought she would harm her. Embracing her at last, 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.
Following a brief period she decided to name her baby Izzie, after the professional who provided support to her.
Medical personnel told her about a care center, a innovative treatment home where women and their babies are treated together, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is identified with newborn addiction symptoms frequently, infants are still quickly moved to hospitals and medicated while their mothers face parental assessments. But a small, growing network of centers like Maddie’s Place is proving a simple point: when mothers and babies stay together, results get better, custody cases decrease and overall savings increase.
It took Stephanie a period to find strength to call, but she eventually made the call. After ensuring she qualified for the program, two staff members came to pick her up.
She stepped out of the hospital still in detox, fearful and unsure about what would follow.
At Maddie’s Place, Stephanie still worried that child services would come remove her daughter – even though she was not sure she wanted to keep her. The concern persisted: that at any point, someone could walk in and remove her child.
For the beginning period, Stephanie kept to herself. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I was suspicious at that point.”
Life on the streets, she said, was about getting by. Substances came first; reliance came last.
Stephanie had one close friend, but even that relationship was delicate. The those close to her always found ways to let her down. She lacked the ability to love herself, not to mention anyone else.
Every day, staff from Maddie’s Place took her to a clinic for methadone, provided orally. Slowly, she was beginning recovery.
She spent every minute beyond therapy with Izzie, and could see that her baby was getting the specialized care she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with adverse reactions to milk and severe digestive problems. She needed nutritional guidance. She also had heightened sensory issues and required an specialist – all common issues for babies born with NAS.
Seeing that even a young person understands the need for care, then I was capable. I could parent.
During a pre-holiday visit, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where individuals struggling with substance use can come for supervised visits with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a mentor, visited with her own family in tow to deliver baked goods. They all gathered around Stephanie, who was seated on the ground holding Izzie.
The young ones stared in admiration 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 dressed in black pants and a hoodie, a gray knit hat with a decoration on her head, seated on the ground with the entryway at her back. She is slender. Her face is downcast so you miss her features. She is holding Izzie up on her leg for the children to see and they are gathered around, admiring and touching to the baby.
A young boy, eight, asked the parents: “What about the fathers?” The moms tried to explain that the fathers had obligations, handling responsibilities, that they would be there given the chance.
“Once I become a parent,” Jacob said, “I’m going to be the best dad ever. They will know they are valued.”
Stephanie and Bunch-Smith exchanged glances. “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 available for years.
The assessment tool was created in 1975|
