A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Saved Them Both.
Eight months pregnant and in severe pain, Stephanie Rosell went to the ER after her infection worsened up her legs. Unemployed and homeless, estranged from her family, she stayed in a makeshift shelter she had constructed in a companion's property. She was also dependent on fentanyl.
As doctors treated her infection, she grew increasingly fearful. Symptoms of withdrawal emerged. She leaned over the bed and threw up.
Stephanie ultimately gave in. “I need to leave. I have to go home and get high.”
She had taken the drug before coming to the ER and had just enough time to get treated before she was compelled to leave to relapse. She thought she still had four weeks left to find a way to become sober and have this baby.
The medical professional intervened. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.
“I am leaving,” Stephanie said.
But the hospital refused to discharge her: the leg infection was serious, but doctors had discovered she also had an leakage of amniotic fluid. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would not survive.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl at regular intervals, knowing that symptoms could threaten her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a drug that alleviates cravings and is frequently utilized in rehabilitation.
A short time later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie gave birth to a daughter weighing 4lb 8oz – premature, tiny yet healthy.
When the attendant inquired if she wanted to hold her baby, Stephanie said “no.” She was numb. Her epidural had failed, her previous intake of fentanyl had been provided a few hours prior to birth.
She felt ill. Ill-equipped for parenting. Not fit.
Stephanie had sought recovery several times during pregnancy, and felt awful each time she was unsuccessful. She felt hopeless, blaming herself for not being able to achieve the unattainable. An doctor told her to “only” stop using. Even her supplier refused to sell to her when she became clearly expecting.
“But I couldn’t,” she said. “I required assistance.”
The common assumption that her love for her baby would make her stop using only led to increased guilt and self-harm, a cause for her to return to drugs. Yet she could not simply will her addiction away, any more than she could eliminate a persistent condition.
The baby was taken to the special care nursery. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was hooked up to monitors, so small she thought she would harm her. Cradling her initially, she felt detached. “I just stared at 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 give her child the name the same as her nurse, after the attendant who showed compassion to her.
Hospital staff told her about Maddie’s Place, a innovative treatment home where women and their babies are supported as a unit, not apart.
In much of the US, where a baby is found to have neonatal abstinence syndrome (NAS) regularly, infants are still whisked to NICUs and given drugs while their mothers face child-protection investigations. But a small, growing network of centers like this facility is demonstrating a key fact: when families are kept intact, recovery succeeds, fewer children enter care and future expenses reduce.
It took Stephanie a period to find strength to call, but she finally did. After verifying her eligibility for the program, two staff members came to pick her up.
She departed the institution still in withdrawal, fearful and unsure about what would come next.
At the facility, Stephanie still worried that authorities would come take Izzie – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The anxiety remained: that at any time, someone could arrive and remove her child.
For the initial fortnight, Stephanie stayed withdrawn. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I lacked confidence at that point.”
Life on the streets, she said, was about survival. Substances came first; trust came last.
Stephanie had one close friend, but even that connection was tenuous. The people she loved always found ways to hurt her. She was unable to care for herself, not to mention anyone else.
Daily, staff from the center transported her to a treatment center, provided orally. Gradually, she was beginning recovery.
She utilized each moment beyond therapy with Izzie, and could see that her baby was receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her daughter struggled with eating at first, with sensitivity to certain foods and obvious stomach troubles. She needed feeding therapy. She also had sensory challenges and required an specialist – all frequent conditions for babies born with NAS.
Seeing that even a young person understands the need for care, then I was capable. I would become a mother.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where individuals struggling with substance use can come for supervised visits with their babies. A support specialist, a mentor, visited with her own five kids in tow to bring treats. They all crowded near Stephanie, who was sitting on the floor 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 didn’t care that I had used drugs with her. They focused only on the baby.”
She has an image of the moment. She is clad in casual attire, a cap with a decoration on her head, resting on the floor with the door behind her. She is slender. Her head is tilted forward so you miss her features. She is presenting her daughter on her knee for the young ones to see and they are gathered around, admiring and touching to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the parents: “Why are there no men?” The parents responded that the fathers had obligations, handling responsibilities, that they would be there given the chance.
“Once I become a parent,” Jacob said, “I will excel as a father. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and her companion exchanged glances. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that newborns require care, then I was able. I could parent.”
Tools for treating babies with exposure have been available for years.
The evaluation method was developed in 1975|
