A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Saved Them Both.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, Stephanie Rosell went to the medical facility 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 medical staff managed her infection, she started to feel anxious. Withdrawal was setting in. She bent over the bedside and became sick.
Stephanie finally broke down. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and take a hit.”
She had taken the drug before arriving at the hospital and had just enough time to get treated before she had to return to use once more. She thought she still had a month remaining 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 infection in her legs was serious, but physicians found she also had an ruptured membrane. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she walked out, she and her baby would be at risk of death.
She encouraged the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl every few hours, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. Once the baby was born Stephanie would be switched to methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is frequently utilized in substance abuse treatment.
Five days later, on a day in November 2022, Stephanie delivered a infant weighing a small weight – early, tiny yet healthy.
When the attendant inquired if she wanted to embrace her child, Stephanie said “no.” She was emotionless. Her epidural had failed, her final administration of fentanyl had been given a few hours prior to birth.
She felt sick. Ill-equipped for parenting. Unworthy.
Stephanie had tried to get clean repeatedly before birth, and felt awful each time she relapsed. She felt worthless, blaming herself for not being able to do the impossible. An OBGYN told her to “simply” stop using. Even her dealer refused to sell to her when she became visibly pregnant.
“However, I failed,” she said. “I had to seek support.”
The pervasive expectation that her bond with her newborn would make her quit only led to deeper self-loathing and negative self-talk, a trigger 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 NICU. When Stephanie at last met her, she was hooked up to tubes and leads, so tiny she thought she would hurt her. Embracing her at last, she felt empty. “I looked at her and was like, ‘What am I going to do with you?’” She still wasn’t sure she wanted to be her mother.
Two days later she decided to call her daughter after her caregiver, after the nurse who had been so kind to her.
Hospital staff told her about Maddie’s Place, a new kind of care center where women and their babies are cared for jointly, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is diagnosed with neonatal abstinence syndrome (NAS) frequently, infants are still whisked to NICUs and medicated while their mothers face child-protection investigations. But a developing system of centers like the care home is showing an important truth: when families are kept intact, recovery succeeds, fewer children enter care and future expenses reduce.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she finally did. After ensuring she qualified for the program, two staff members came to collect her.
She left the medical center still in recovery, scared and uncertain about what would happen next.
At the care center, Stephanie still feared 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 time, someone could walk in and take her baby away.
For the first two weeks, Stephanie remained isolated. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I was suspicious at that point.”
Life on the streets, she said, was about survival. Drugs 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 cause pain. She was unable to love herself, much less anyone else.
Each day, staff from Maddie’s Place took her to a recovery program, provided orally. Slowly, she was starting to get clean.
She devoted all her time outside treatment with Izzie, and could see that her baby was receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with sensitivity to certain foods and pronounced gastrointestinal issues. She needed dietary support. She also had increased sensitivity and required an occupational therapist – all frequent conditions for babies affected by withdrawal.
When a child recognizes these infants need affection, then I was capable. I could parent.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie sat in the visitation area, where individuals struggling with substance use can come for guided meetings with their babies. An advocate, a peer support specialist, 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 showed no judgment,” Stephanie said. “My past did not matter to them. They focused only on the baby.”
She holds a picture of the moment. She is wearing black pants and a hoodie, a beanie with a bobble on her head, seated on the ground with the door behind her. She is thin. Her head is tilted forward so you miss her features. She is holding Izzie up on her lap for the children to see and they are crowding near, showing interest to the baby.
A young boy, eight, asked the parents: “Where are all the dads?” The parents responded that the dads were busy, handling responsibilities, 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 looked at each other. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that these babies deserve to be loved, then I was able. I could parent.”
Methods to address infants affected by substances have existed for decades.
The evaluation method was developed in 1975|
