A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Rescued Both Lives.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, Stephanie Rosell arrived at the medical facility after an infection began spreading up her legs. Unemployed and homeless, cut off from her relatives, she resided in a small structure she had assembled in a companion's property. She was also dependent on fentanyl.
As medical staff managed her infection, she began to panic. Withdrawal was setting in. She leaned over the bed and vomited.
Stephanie eventually collapsed. “Listen, I gotta go. I have to go home and get high.”
She had taken the drug before coming to the ER and had just enough time to get treated before she was compelled to leave to get high again. She thought she still had a month remaining to find a way to become sober and give birth.
The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was not allowed to leave.
“I am leaving,” Stephanie said.
But the hospital refused to discharge her: the leg infection was serious, but physicians found she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, her nurse, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would not survive.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie regulated amounts of fentanyl every few hours, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a drug that alleviates cravings and is commonly used in addiction recovery.
Five days later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie delivered a daughter weighing 4lb 8oz – premature, little but surviving.
When the attendant inquired if she wanted to hold her baby, Stephanie said “no.” She was emotionless. Her anesthesia was ineffective, her last dose of fentanyl had been administered a few hours prior to birth.
She felt sick. Ill-equipped for parenting. Undeserving.
Stephanie had tried to get clean repeatedly before birth, and felt terrible each time she was unsuccessful. She felt hopeless, blaming herself for not being able to achieve the unattainable. An obstetrician told her to “just” stop using. Even her dealer refused to sell to her when she became obviously with child.
“Yet I was unable,” she said. “I needed help.”
The common assumption that her bond with her newborn would make her recover only led to increased guilt and negative self-talk, a trigger 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 at last met her, she was connected to tubes and leads, so little she thought she would break her. Holding her for the first time, she felt detached. “I looked at her and was like, ‘What is our future?’” She continued to doubt she wanted to be her mother.
After two days she decided to give her child the name the same as her nurse, after the attendant who showed compassion to her.
Hospital staff told her about a care center, a innovative treatment home where women and their babies are supported as a unit, not apart.
In many parts of America, 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 showing an important truth: when parents and infants remain united, recovery succeeds, custody cases decrease and overall savings increase.
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 stepped out of the hospital still in detox, anxious and doubtful about what would come next.
At the care center, Stephanie still feared that CPS would come remove her daughter – even though she was hesitant about parenting. The anxiety remained: that at any point, someone could enter and remove her child.
For the beginning period, Stephanie remained isolated. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I lacked confidence at that point.”
Life on the streets, she said, was about enduring. Addiction came first; trust came last.
Stephanie had a trusted ally, but even that relationship was delicate. The people she loved always found ways to hurt her. She lacked the ability to care for herself, much less anyone else.
Each day, staff from the facility drove her to a recovery program, 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 receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her daughter struggled with eating at first, with adverse reactions to milk and obvious stomach troubles. She needed nutritional guidance. She also had increased sensitivity and required an specialist – all common issues for babies affected by withdrawal.
Seeing that even a young person understands the need for care, then I could do this. 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 guided meetings with their babies. An advocate, a recovery coach, came over with her own family in tow to bring treats. They all crowded near Stephanie, who was sitting on the floor holding Izzie.
The young ones stared in admiration of the tiny infant in Stephanie’s arms. “They had no care in the world,” Stephanie said. “My past did not matter to them. They focused only on the baby.”
She keeps a photo of the moment. She is clad in black pants and a hoodie, a cap with a pompom on her head, resting on the floor with the entryway at her back. She is slender. Her head is tilted forward so you do not see her expression. She is lifting the baby on her lap for the other kids to see and they are standing close, fawning and reaching out to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the parents: “Where are all the dads?” The women attempted to clarify that the dads were busy, engaged elsewhere, 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 Bunch-Smith made eye contact. “I became emotional,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that newborns require care, then I found the courage. I would become a mother.”
Methods to address infants affected by substances have been available for years.
The evaluation method was established in 1975|
