A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Saved Them Both.
Eight months pregnant and in severe pain, the expectant mother arrived at the medical facility after her infection worsened up her legs. Jobless and without shelter, cut off from her relatives, she stayed in a makeshift shelter she had constructed in a companion's property. She was also hooked on fentanyl.
As doctors treated her infection, she grew increasingly fearful. The onset of withdrawal began. She slumped forward 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 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 find a way to become sober and deliver her child.
The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was not allowed to leave.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the hospital refused to discharge her: the infection in her legs was severe, but doctors had discovered she also had an leakage of amniotic fluid. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she left, she and her baby would not survive.
She encouraged the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl at regular intervals, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is frequently utilized in addiction recovery.
After five days, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie had a infant weighing just over four pounds – premature, little but surviving.
When the caregiver questioned if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “I cannot.” She was emotionless. Her epidural had failed, her previous intake of fentanyl had been provided four hours before delivery.
She felt ill. Ill-equipped for parenting. Undeserving.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety several times during pregnancy, and felt horrible each time she relapsed. She felt without value, blaming herself for not being able to achieve the unattainable. An doctor told her to “only” stop using. Even her supplier would not provide to her when she became visibly pregnant.
“However, I failed,” she said. “I had to seek support.”
The widespread belief that her affection for her child would make her recover only led to deeper self-loathing and self-abuse, a impetus 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 newborn was transferred to the NICU. When Stephanie eventually visited her, she was attached to tubes and leads, so little she thought she would harm her. Cradling her initially, she felt nothing. “I just stared at her and was like, ‘What is our future?’” She remained uncertain she wanted to be her mother.
After two days she decided to name her baby the same as her nurse, after the professional who provided support to her.
Hospital staff told her about a care center, a innovative treatment home where parents and infants affected by substance use are supported as a unit, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is identified with newborn addiction symptoms frequently, infants are still rushed to special care and given drugs while their mothers face parental assessments. But a small, growing network of centers like the care home is demonstrating a key fact: when parents and infants remain united, results get better, fewer children enter care and overall savings increase.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she eventually made the call. After verifying her eligibility for the program, a couple of employees came to collect her.
She departed the institution still in detox, scared and uncertain about what would happen next.
At the facility, Stephanie still was concerned that child services would come remove her daughter – even though she was hesitant about parenting. The fear lingered: that at any time, someone could enter and separate them.
For the beginning period, 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 relationship was delicate. The those close to her always found ways to let her down. She lacked the ability to care for herself, let alone anyone else.
Daily, staff from Maddie’s Place drove her to a recovery program, provided orally. Gradually, she was beginning recovery.
She spent every minute when not in sessions with Izzie, and could see that her baby was obtaining necessary support she needed. Her daughter struggled with eating at first, with intolerance to some formulas and pronounced gastrointestinal issues. She needed feeding therapy. She also had heightened sensory issues and required an professional – all common issues for babies born with NAS.
When a child recognizes these infants need affection, then I was capable. I could parent.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie was in the common room, where parents in active addiction can come for guided meetings with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a recovery coach, came over with her own five kids in tow to deliver baked goods. They all gathered around Stephanie, who was seated on the ground holding Izzie.
The children were wide-eyed in wonder of the little newborn 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 keeps a photo of the moment. She is clad in dark trousers and a sweatshirt, a gray knit hat with a decoration on her head, resting on the floor with the door behind her. She is thin. Her posture is humble so you cannot see her face. She is holding Izzie up on her knee for the children to see and they are standing close, fawning and reaching out to the baby.
A young boy, eight, asked the parents: “What about the fathers?” The women attempted to clarify that the dads were busy, called away to other tasks, that they would be there given the chance.
“When I have kids,” Jacob said, “I’m going to be the best dad ever. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and the specialist made eye contact. “I just lost it and fell apart,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that infants need affection, then I was able. I could parent.”
Approaches for managing babies with exposure have been available for years.
The assessment tool was created in 1975|