A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: The Decision to Keep Her Child Rescued Both Lives.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, a woman named Stephanie visited the hospital emergency room after a serious infection started to spread up her legs. Jobless and without shelter, cut off from her relatives, she stayed in a makeshift shelter she had constructed in a acquaintance's garden. She was also addicted to fentanyl.
As medical staff managed her infection, she grew increasingly fearful. The onset of withdrawal began. She leaned over the bed and threw up.
Stephanie eventually collapsed. “I need to leave. I have to go home and use drugs.”
She had consumed opioids before seeking medical help and had just enough time to get treated before she was compelled to leave to use once more. She thought she still had several weeks to find a way to become sober and give birth.
The medical professional intervened. 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 medical staff detected she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she left, she and her baby would not survive.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie controlled doses of fentanyl every few hours, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. Once the baby was born Stephanie would be switched to methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is commonly used in addiction recovery.
After five days, on the 12th of November, Stephanie had a daughter weighing just over four pounds – premature, small but alive.
When the caregiver questioned if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “not now.” She was emotionless. Her epidural had failed, her last dose of fentanyl had been given four hours before delivery.
She felt sick. Ill-equipped for parenting. Undeserving.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety several times during pregnancy, and felt horrible each time she was unsuccessful. She felt worthless, berating herself for not being able to overcome the challenge. An obstetrician told her to “only” stop using. Even her supplier refused to sell to her when she became obviously with child.
“However, I failed,” she said. “I required assistance.”
The widespread belief that her affection for her child would make her quit only led to increased guilt and self-abuse, a impetus for her to use again. Yet she could not simply will her addiction away, any more than she could overcome a chronic disease.
The infant was moved to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie eventually visited her, she was attached to medical equipment, so little she thought she would break her. Embracing her at last, she felt empty. “I looked at her and was like, ‘What is our future?’” She still wasn’t sure she wanted to be her mother.
Two days later she decided to give her child the name after her caregiver, after the nurse who had been so kind to her.
Medical personnel told her about a specialized facility, 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 infant withdrawal condition frequently, infants are still rushed to special care and medicated while their mothers face custody evaluations. But a developing system of centers like Maddie’s Place 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 finally did. After confirming she would be a good fit for the program, care providers came to collect her.
She departed the institution still in recovery, anxious and doubtful about what would happen next.
At the care center, Stephanie still was concerned that authorities would come seize her child – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The concern persisted: that at any point, someone could arrive and separate them.
For the initial fortnight, Stephanie stayed withdrawn. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I was suspicious at that point.”
Survival outdoors, she said, was about enduring. Substances came first; reliance came last.
Stephanie had a trusted ally, but even that relationship was delicate. The individuals she cared for always found ways to hurt her. She was unable to value herself, let alone anyone else.
Each day, staff from Maddie’s Place took her to a clinic for methadone, given as medication. Gradually, she was embracing sobriety.
She spent every minute outside treatment with Izzie, and could see that her baby was receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with intolerance to some formulas and obvious stomach troubles. She needed dietary support. She also had sensory challenges and required an occupational therapist – all common issues for babies born with NAS.
When a child recognizes these infants need affection, then I was capable. I could be a mom.
During a pre-holiday visit, Stephanie was in the common room, where those still using can come for guided meetings with their babies. A support specialist, a recovery coach, came over with her own five kids in tow to bring treats. They all gathered around Stephanie, who was sitting on the floor holding Izzie.
The young ones stared in admiration of the small baby 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 holds a picture of the moment. She is wearing casual attire, a beanie with a bobble on her head, seated on the ground with the door behind her. She is thin. Her posture is humble so you do not see her expression. She is presenting her daughter on her lap for the young ones to see and they are gathered around, showing interest to the baby.
A young boy, eight, asked the parents: “What about the fathers?” The parents responded 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 will excel as a father. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and her companion looked at each other. “I became emotional,” Stephanie said. “If this little kid could see that newborns require care, then I could do this. I would become a mother.”
Approaches for managing babies with exposure have existed for decades.
The evaluation method was created in 1975|
