A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: How Keeping Her Baby Rescued Both Lives.
Eight months pregnant and in severe pain, Stephanie Rosell visited the hospital emergency room after her infection worsened up her legs. Unemployed and homeless, cut off from her relatives, she resided in a small structure she had built in a companion's property. She was also addicted to fentanyl.
As physicians addressed her infection, she began to panic. The onset of withdrawal began. She bent over the bedside and threw up.
Stephanie ultimately gave in. “I need to leave. I have to go home and take a hit.”
She had consumed opioids before coming to the ER and had only a brief window to get treated before she was compelled to leave to get high again. She thought she still had several weeks to find a way to become sober and deliver her child.
The medical professional intervened. She told Stephanie she was staying put.
“I will go,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the leg infection was serious, but medical staff detected she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, her nurse, warned her: if she left, she and her baby would not survive.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie controlled doses of fentanyl at regular intervals, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be switched to methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is frequently utilized in rehabilitation.
Five days later, on a day in November 2022, Stephanie had a baby girl weighing 4lb 8oz – premature, small but alive.
When the nurse asked if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “no.” She was detached. Her epidural had failed, her last dose of fentanyl had been given shortly before she gave birth.
She felt ill. Not ready for motherhood. Undeserving.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety repeatedly before birth, and felt awful each time she relapsed. She felt worthless, criticizing herself for not being able to achieve the unattainable. An obstetrician told her to “just” stop using. Even her dealer refused to sell to her when she became visibly pregnant.
“But I couldn’t,” she said. “I required assistance.”
The common assumption that her bond with her newborn would make her recover only led to deeper self-loathing and self-abuse, a impetus for her to return to drugs. Yet she could not just wish her addiction away, any more than she could eliminate a chronic disease.
The infant was moved to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie at last met her, she was connected to medical equipment, so little she thought she would hurt 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.
Two days later she decided to call her daughter the same as her nurse, after the nurse who had been so kind to her.
Medical personnel told her about a care center, a unique recovery environment where women and their babies are cared for jointly, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is identified with neonatal abstinence syndrome (NAS) regularly, infants are still quickly moved to hospitals and treated with pharmaceuticals while their mothers face parental assessments. But a developing system of centers like this facility is demonstrating a key fact: when parents and infants remain united, outcomes improve, foster placements fall and future expenses reduce.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she ultimately reached out. After verifying her eligibility for the program, a couple of employees came to bring her to the facility.
She departed the institution still in withdrawal, fearful and unsure about what would follow.
At Maddie’s Place, Stephanie still feared that child services would come remove her daughter – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The fear lingered: that at any moment, someone could arrive and remove her child.
For the initial fortnight, Stephanie remained isolated. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I didn’t have a lot of trust at that point.”
Life on the streets, she said, was about enduring. Substances came first; trust came last.
Stephanie had one close friend, but even that connection was tenuous. The individuals she cared for always found ways to let her down. She was unable to value herself, not to mention anyone else.
Every day, staff from Maddie’s Place transported her to a treatment center, provided orally. Gradually, she was beginning recovery.
She utilized each moment outside treatment 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 pronounced gastrointestinal issues. She needed nutritional guidance. She also had increased sensitivity and required an specialist – all frequent conditions for babies exposed to substances.
If this little kid could see that these babies deserve to be loved, then I was capable. I would become a mother.
During a pre-holiday visit, Stephanie sat in the visitation area, where parents in active addiction can come for monitored interactions with their babies. A support specialist, a peer support specialist, stopped by with her own five kids in tow to bring treats. They all crowded near Stephanie, who was seated on the ground holding Izzie.
The kids looked amazed in admiration of the little newborn in Stephanie’s arms. “They were innocent,” Stephanie said. “They didn’t care that I had used drugs with her. Such issues were irrelevant.”
She has an image of the moment. She is wearing casual attire, a beanie with a bobble on her head, sitting on the wooden floor with the exit nearby. She is slender. Her face is downcast so you do not see her expression. She is holding Izzie up on her lap for the young ones to see and they are crowding near, showing interest to the baby.
A young boy, eight, asked the mothers: “Where are all the dads?” The parents responded that the fathers had obligations, called away to other tasks, that they would be there if possible.
“In the future,” Jacob said, “I’m going to be the best dad ever. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and her companion made eye contact. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that newborns require care, then I could do this. I would become a mother.”
Approaches for managing infants affected by substances have existed for decades.
The evaluation method was created in 1975|
