A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: The Decision to Keep Her Child Rescued Both Lives.
Eight months pregnant and in severe pain, Stephanie Rosell went to the medical facility after her infection worsened up her legs. Jobless and without shelter, estranged from her family, she resided in a small structure she had built in a friend’s yard. She was also addicted to fentanyl.
As physicians addressed her infection, she grew increasingly fearful. 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 used fentanyl before coming to the ER and had only a brief window to get treated before she needed to go home to get high again. She thought she still had four weeks left to find a way to become sober and have this baby.
The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the leg infection was severe, but physicians found she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she walked out, she and her baby would not survive.
She encouraged the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl periodically, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. Post-birth Stephanie would be transitioned to methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is often prescribed in rehabilitation.
A short time later, on the 12th of November, Stephanie delivered a baby girl weighing just over four pounds – early, small but alive.
When the nurse asked if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “I cannot.” She was detached. Her pain relief did not work, her final administration of fentanyl had been given shortly before she gave birth.
She felt unwell. Not ready for motherhood. Not fit.
Stephanie had tried to get clean several times during pregnancy, and felt horrible each time she was unsuccessful. She felt without value, blaming herself for not being able to overcome the challenge. An OBGYN told her to “just” stop using. Even her source declined to supply to her when she became obviously with child.
“However, I failed,” she said. “I needed help.”
The common assumption that her love for her baby would make her quit only led to deeper self-loathing and negative self-talk, a trigger for her to relapse. Yet she could not easily command her addiction away, any more than she could overcome a long-term illness.
The baby was taken to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was hooked up to medical equipment, so tiny she thought she would harm her. Holding her for the first time, she felt nothing. “I looked at her and was like, ‘How will I care for you?’” She remained uncertain she wanted to be her mother.
After two days she decided to give her child the name after her caregiver, after the attendant who showed compassion to her.
Medical personnel told her about Maddie’s Place, a unique recovery environment where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are supported as a unit, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is diagnosed with infant withdrawal condition every 18 minutes, infants are still rushed to special care and medicated while their mothers face custody evaluations. But a small, growing network of centers like the care home is demonstrating a key fact: when parents and infants remain united, recovery succeeds, custody cases decrease and long-term costs decline.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she eventually made the call. After confirming she would be a good fit for the program, a couple of employees came to pick her up.
She left the medical center still in detox, anxious and doubtful about what would follow.
At the care center, Stephanie still feared that child services would come take Izzie – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The fear lingered: that at any time, someone could arrive and remove her child.
For the initial fortnight, Stephanie stayed withdrawn. “I didn’t really want anything to do with any of them,” she said. “I didn’t have a lot of trust at that point.”
Life on the streets, she said, was about getting by. Addiction came first; trust came last.
Stephanie had a trusted ally, but even that relationship was delicate. The individuals she cared for always found ways to let her down. She did not know how to love herself, let alone anyone else.
Daily, staff from Maddie’s Place drove her to a treatment center, administered in pill form. Slowly, 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 girl had some trouble feeding at first, with adverse reactions to milk and obvious stomach troubles. She needed dietary support. She also had sensory challenges 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 could do this. I could be a mom.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie sat in the visitation area, where parents in active addiction can come for monitored interactions with their babies. An advocate, a mentor, came over with her own children in tow to drop off cookies. They all crowded near Stephanie, who was seated on the ground holding Izzie.
The children were wide-eyed 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 dressed in black pants and a hoodie, a cap with a decoration on her head, seated on the ground with the exit nearby. She is slender. Her posture is humble so you do not see her expression. She is lifting the baby on her lap for the young ones to see and they are crowding near, admiring and touching to the baby.
A young boy, eight, asked the moms: “What about the fathers?” The parents responded that the men were occupied, called away to other tasks, that they would be there if possible.
“When I have kids,” Jacob said, “I will excel as a father. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and the specialist looked at each other. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that infants need affection, then I could do this. I could parent.”
Methods to address drug-exposed newborns have been available for years.
The assessment tool was developed in 1975|
