A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: The Decision to Keep Her Child Rescued Both Lives.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, Stephanie Rosell went to the hospital emergency room after her infection worsened up her legs. Unemployed and homeless, cut off from her relatives, she lived in a shed she had assembled in a friend’s yard. She was also addicted to fentanyl.
As medical staff managed her infection, she began to panic. Withdrawal was setting in. She bent over the bedside and threw up.
Stephanie ultimately gave in. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and get high.”
She had taken the drug before seeking medical help and had just enough time to get treated before she needed to go home to relapse. She thought she still had four weeks left to find a way to become sober and have this baby.
The attending nurse disagreed. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the hospital refused to discharge her: the leg infection was critical, 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 face grave danger.
Izzie persuaded the doctor to give Stephanie regulated amounts of fentanyl every few hours, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. Once the baby was born Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a treatment that reduces symptoms and is often prescribed in substance abuse treatment.
A short time later, on the 12th of November, Stephanie had a infant weighing just over four pounds – early, little but surviving.
When the attendant inquired if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “not now.” She was numb. Her epidural had failed, her final administration of fentanyl had been provided shortly before she gave birth.
She felt ill. Not ready for motherhood. Unworthy.
Stephanie had sought recovery multiple times while expecting, and felt terrible each time she was unsuccessful. She felt worthless, berating herself for not being able to do the impossible. An OBGYN told her to “only” stop using. Even her supplier would not provide to her when she became visibly pregnant.
“Yet I was unable,” she said. “I needed help.”
The widespread belief that her affection for her child would make her recover only led to greater shame 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 chronic disease.
The baby was taken to the special care nursery. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was connected to medical equipment, so little she thought she would hurt her. Cradling her initially, she felt empty. “I just stared at her and was like, ‘How will I care for you?’” She still wasn’t sure she wanted to be her mother.
Two days later she decided to give her child the name after her caregiver, after the professional who provided support to her.
Nurses and doctors told her about a specialized facility, a innovative treatment home where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are cared for jointly, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is diagnosed with infant withdrawal condition frequently, infants are still rushed to special care and treated with pharmaceuticals while their mothers face parental assessments. But a developing system of centers like the care home is demonstrating a key fact: when parents and infants remain united, recovery succeeds, foster placements fall and overall savings increase.
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 collect her.
She departed the institution still in recovery, fearful and unsure about what would follow.
At the facility, Stephanie still feared that authorities would come take Izzie – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The concern persisted: that at any point, someone could arrive and take her baby away.
For the first two weeks, Stephanie kept to herself. “I avoided interaction,” she said. “I lacked confidence at that point.”
Survival outdoors, she said, was about enduring. Drugs came first; faith came last.
Stephanie had a trusted ally, but even that connection was tenuous. The those close to her always found ways to cause pain. She lacked the ability to value herself, much less anyone else.
Daily, staff from the center drove her to a recovery program, given as medication. Slowly, she was beginning recovery.
She spent every minute beyond therapy with Izzie, and could see that her baby was obtaining necessary support she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with sensitivity to certain foods and pronounced gastrointestinal issues. She needed nutritional guidance. She also had increased sensitivity and required an specialist – all typical problems for babies born with NAS.
When a child recognizes these infants need affection, then I found the strength. I would become a mother.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie was in the common room, where parents in active addiction can come for supervised visits with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a mentor, visited with her own children in tow to bring treats. They all crowded near Stephanie, who was sitting on the floor holding Izzie.
The children were wide-eyed in wonder of the little newborn in Stephanie’s arms. “They were innocent,” Stephanie said. “They overlooked my addiction. They focused only on the baby.”
She has an image of the moment. She is wearing black pants and a hoodie, a cap with a pompom on her head, resting on the floor with the entryway at her back. She is lean. Her face is downcast so you miss her features. She is lifting the baby on her knee for the other kids to see and they are crowding near, admiring and touching to the baby.
One child, eight, asked the moms: “Where are all the dads?” The moms tried to explain that the men were occupied, called away to other tasks, that they would be there if possible.
“In the future,” Jacob said, “I plan to be a great parent. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and her companion made eye contact. “I just lost it and fell apart,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that newborns require care, then I was able. I would become a mother.”
Methods to address drug-exposed newborns have been used for a long time.
The Finnegan NAS scale was developed in 1975|
