A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: How Keeping Her Baby Saved Them Both.
Eight months pregnant and in severe pain, Stephanie Rosell went to the medical facility after a serious infection started to spread up her legs. Unemployed and homeless, cut off from her relatives, she stayed in a makeshift shelter she had constructed in a companion's property. She was also addicted to fentanyl.
As physicians addressed her infection, she started to feel anxious. Symptoms of withdrawal emerged. She slumped forward and vomited.
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 only a brief window to get treated before she was compelled to leave to use once more. She thought she still had four weeks left to figure out how to get clean and deliver her child.
The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was staying put.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the hospital refused to discharge her: the leg infection was severe, but medical staff detected she also had an leakage of amniotic fluid. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she walked out, 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 symptoms could threaten her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a treatment that reduces symptoms and is often prescribed in rehabilitation.
A short time later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie delivered a infant weighing just over four pounds – premature, tiny yet healthy.
When the nurse asked if she wanted to embrace her child, Stephanie said “no.” She was emotionless. Her anesthesia was ineffective, her previous intake of fentanyl had been provided shortly before she gave birth.
She felt ill. Ill-equipped for parenting. Not fit.
Stephanie had tried to get clean repeatedly before birth, and felt terrible each time she failed. She felt worthless, berating 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.
“But I couldn’t,” she said. “I needed help.”
The pervasive expectation that her love for her baby would make her recover only led to increased guilt and self-harm, a cause for her to use again. Yet she could not easily command her addiction away, any more than she could overcome a persistent condition.
The infant was moved to the special care nursery. When Stephanie eventually visited her, she was connected to monitors, so small 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.
Two days later she decided to name her baby the same as her nurse, after the professional who provided support to her.
Hospital staff told her about a care center, a innovative treatment home where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are supported as a unit, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is found to have newborn addiction symptoms every 18 minutes, infants are still rushed to special care and medicated while their mothers face parental assessments. But a small, growing network of centers like Maddie’s Place is demonstrating a key fact: when mothers and babies stay together, results get better, custody cases decrease and overall savings increase.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she ultimately reached out. After confirming she would be a good fit for the program, two staff members came to collect her.
She departed the institution still in recovery, scared and uncertain about what would happen next.
At the care center, Stephanie still feared that CPS would come take Izzie – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The anxiety remained: that at any point, someone could enter and separate them.
For the beginning period, Stephanie kept to herself. “I didn’t really want anything to do with any of them,” she said. “I was suspicious at that point.”
Life on the streets, she said, was about enduring. Addiction came first; faith came last.
Stephanie had a single companion, but even that connection was tenuous. The people she loved always found ways to cause pain. She was unable to care for herself, not to mention anyone else.
Every day, staff from Maddie’s Place took her to a clinic for methadone, administered in pill form. Over time, she was starting to get clean.
She devoted all her time outside treatment with Izzie, and could see that her baby was getting the specialized care she needed. Her daughter struggled with eating at first, with sensitivity to certain foods and severe digestive problems. She needed dietary support. She also had heightened sensory issues and required an professional – all typical problems for babies affected by withdrawal.
When a child recognizes these infants need affection, then I found the strength. I could parent.
One afternoon before Thanksgiving, Stephanie was in the common room, where those still using can come for monitored interactions with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a peer support specialist, came over with her own children in tow to deliver baked goods. They all crowded near Stephanie, who was resting on the carpet holding Izzie.
The kids looked amazed in admiration of the small baby in Stephanie’s arms. “They had no care in the world,” 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 dressed in casual attire, a beanie with a bobble on her head, resting on the floor with the door behind her. She is thin. 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 crowding near, showing interest to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the moms: “What about the fathers?” The moms tried to explain that the men were occupied, handling responsibilities, that they would be there if possible.
“In the future,” Jacob said, “I’m going to be the best dad ever. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and Bunch-Smith made eye contact. “I just lost it and fell apart,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that infants need affection, then I was able. I could parent.”
Approaches for managing infants affected by substances have been used for a long time.
The assessment tool was developed in 1975|
