A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Rescued Both Lives.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, Stephanie Rosell visited the medical facility after an infection began spreading up her legs. Jobless and without shelter, estranged from her family, she stayed in a makeshift shelter she had assembled in a companion's property. She was also hooked on 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 ultimately gave in. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and take a hit.”
She had taken the drug before seeking medical help and had sufficient opportunity to get treated before she had to return to relapse. She thought she still had several weeks to figure out how to get clean and deliver her child.
The attending nurse disagreed. She told Stephanie she was staying put.
“I will go,” Stephanie said.
But the doctors would not let her go: the condition in her limbs was severe, but doctors had discovered she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would not survive.
Izzie persuaded the doctor to give Stephanie regulated amounts of fentanyl at regular intervals, knowing that symptoms could threaten her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is frequently utilized in rehabilitation.
A short time later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie gave birth to a infant weighing just over four pounds – early, little but surviving.
When the caregiver questioned if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “no.” She was detached. Her pain relief did not work, her last dose of fentanyl had been provided shortly before she gave birth.
She felt sick. Unprepared to be a mother. Unworthy.
Stephanie had sought recovery multiple times while expecting, and felt awful each time she was unsuccessful. She felt worthless, criticizing herself for not being able to do the impossible. An doctor told her to “only” stop using. Even her source would not provide 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 stop using only led to deeper self-loathing and self-harm, a cause for her to return to drugs. Yet she could not easily command her addiction away, any more than she could overcome a chronic disease.
The baby was taken to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was connected to medical equipment, so tiny she thought she would break her. Holding her for the first time, she felt nothing. “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 call her daughter Izzie, after the attendant who showed compassion to her.
Hospital staff told her about a specialized facility, a unique recovery environment where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are cared for jointly, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is identified with newborn addiction symptoms frequently, infants are still whisked to NICUs and given drugs while their mothers face parental assessments. But a limited but expanding group of centers like the care home is showing an important truth: when mothers and babies stay together, recovery succeeds, custody cases decrease 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 bring her to the facility.
She stepped out of the hospital still in detox, anxious and doubtful about what would happen next.
At the care center, Stephanie still was concerned that CPS would come take Izzie – even though she was hesitant about parenting. The fear lingered: that at any point, someone could arrive and remove her child.
For the initial fortnight, Stephanie stayed withdrawn. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I didn’t have a lot of trust at that point.”
Survival outdoors, she said, was about getting by. Addiction came first; faith came last.
Stephanie had one close friend, but even that bond was fragile. The individuals she cared for always found ways to let her down. She was unable to care for herself, much less anyone else.
Daily, staff from the center drove her to a clinic for methadone, administered in pill form. Over time, she was starting to get clean.
She utilized each moment when not in sessions with Izzie, and could see that her baby was obtaining necessary support she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with adverse reactions to milk and obvious stomach troubles. She needed feeding therapy. She also had sensory challenges 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 would become a mother.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie sat in the visitation area, where those still using can come for guided meetings with their babies. A support specialist, a peer support specialist, stopped by with her own children in tow to deliver baked goods. They all assembled beside Stephanie, who was sitting on the floor holding Izzie.
The young ones stared in admiration of the small baby in Stephanie’s arms. “They were innocent,” Stephanie said. “My past did not matter to them. None of those things mattered to them.”
She has an image of the moment. She is clad in dark trousers and a sweatshirt, a cap with a bobble on her head, resting on the floor with the door behind her. She is thin. Her head is tilted forward so you do not see her expression. She is holding Izzie up on her lap for the other kids to see and they are standing close, showing interest to the baby.
One child, eight, asked the moms: “Where are all the dads?” The women attempted to clarify that the men were occupied, called away to other tasks, that they would be there given the chance.
“Once I become a parent,” Jacob said, “I plan to be a great parent. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and the specialist looked at each other. “I became emotional,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that infants need affection, then I found the courage. I would become a mother.”
Approaches for managing infants affected by substances have been used for a long time.
The assessment tool was developed in 1975|
