Fentanyl Addiction During Pregnancy: How Keeping Her Baby Transformed Their Futures.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, Stephanie Rosell arrived at the medical facility after her infection worsened up her legs. Without a job or home, separated from loved ones, she lived in a shed she had assembled in a acquaintance's garden. She was also hooked on fentanyl.
As physicians addressed her infection, she began to panic. The onset of withdrawal began. She leaned over the bed and threw up.
Stephanie ultimately gave in. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and use drugs.”
She had taken the drug before arriving at the hospital and had just enough time to get treated before she needed to go home to use once more. She thought she still had several weeks to figure out how to get clean and give birth.
The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was staying put.
“I am leaving,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the condition in her limbs was critical, but doctors had discovered she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she walked out, she and her baby would be at risk of death.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie controlled doses of fentanyl at regular intervals, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. Once the baby was born Stephanie would be transitioned to methadone, a treatment that reduces symptoms and is frequently utilized in addiction recovery.
Five days later, on the 12th of November, Stephanie had a daughter weighing a small weight – premature, little but surviving.
When the attendant inquired if she wanted to embrace her child, Stephanie said “not now.” She was numb. Her pain relief did not work, her final administration of fentanyl had been given a few hours prior to birth.
She felt unwell. Ill-equipped for parenting. Unworthy.
Stephanie had sought recovery several times during pregnancy, and felt awful each time she failed. She felt hopeless, blaming herself for not being able to do the impossible. An doctor told her to “just” stop using. Even her dealer declined to supply to her when she became clearly expecting.
“But I couldn’t,” she said. “I needed help.”
The common assumption that her love for her baby would make her recover only led to increased guilt and self-abuse, a trigger for her to relapse. Yet she could not simply will her addiction away, any more than she could will away a long-term illness.
The infant was moved to the NICU. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was hooked up to medical equipment, so little she thought she would hurt her. Embracing her at last, she felt nothing. “I looked at her and was like, ‘What is our future?’” She continued to doubt she wanted to be her mother.
Following a brief period she decided to name her baby the same as her nurse, after the attendant who showed compassion to her.
Nurses and doctors told her about a care center, a innovative treatment home where women and their babies are cared for jointly, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is diagnosed with newborn addiction symptoms frequently, infants are still quickly moved to hospitals and given drugs while their mothers face custody evaluations. But a developing system of centers like the care home is showing an important truth: when families are kept intact, outcomes improve, fewer children enter care and overall savings increase.
It took Stephanie a period to find strength to call, but she eventually made the call. After verifying her eligibility for the program, care providers came to collect her.
She departed the institution still in recovery, scared and uncertain about what would come next.
At the facility, Stephanie still feared that CPS would come take Izzie – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The concern persisted: that at any moment, someone could enter and remove her child.
For the initial fortnight, Stephanie kept to herself. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I was suspicious at that point.”
Life on the streets, she said, was about getting by. Drugs came first; faith came last.
Stephanie had a single companion, but even that bond was fragile. The people she loved always found ways to let her down. She did not know how to care for herself, not to mention anyone else.
Daily, staff from the facility drove her to a clinic for methadone, administered in pill form. Gradually, she was starting to get clean.
She utilized each moment outside treatment with Izzie, and could see that her baby was receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with adverse reactions to milk and severe digestive problems. She needed nutritional guidance. She also had heightened sensory issues and required an professional – all typical problems for babies affected by withdrawal.
If this little kid could see that these babies deserve to be loved, then I was capable. I could parent.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where individuals struggling with substance use can come for supervised visits with their babies. An advocate, a mentor, visited with her own five kids in tow to bring treats. They all gathered around Stephanie, who was seated on the ground holding Izzie.
The young ones stared in awe of the small baby 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 holds a picture of the moment. She is clad in casual attire, a cap with a pompom on her head, seated on the ground with the exit nearby. She is lean. Her face is downcast so you cannot see her face. She is presenting her daughter on her knee for the young ones to see and they are standing close, fawning and reaching out to the baby.
A young boy, eight, asked the mothers: “Why are there no men?” The parents responded that the men were occupied, handling responsibilities, that they would be there if possible.
“In the future,” Jacob said, “I will excel as a father. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and her companion exchanged glances. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that infants need affection, then I was able. I could parent.”
Approaches for managing infants affected by substances have been used for a long time.
The assessment tool was developed in 1975|
