A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Rescued Both Lives.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, the expectant mother went to the ER after an infection began spreading up her legs. Without a job or home, cut off from her relatives, she resided in a small structure she had constructed in a friend’s yard. She was also dependent on fentanyl.
As physicians addressed her infection, she started to feel anxious. Symptoms of withdrawal emerged. She bent over the bedside and became sick.
Stephanie eventually collapsed. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and take a hit.”
She had consumed opioids before coming to the ER and had only a brief window to get treated before she needed to go home to relapse. She thought she still had four weeks left to figure out how to get clean and give birth.
The attending nurse disagreed. 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 ruptured membrane. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she left, she and her baby would not survive.
Izzie persuaded the doctor to give Stephanie regulated amounts of fentanyl periodically, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. Post-birth Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a drug that alleviates cravings and is often prescribed in rehabilitation.
A short time later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie had a baby girl weighing just over four pounds – premature, tiny yet healthy.
When the caregiver questioned if she wanted to embrace her child, Stephanie said “not now.” She was detached. Her anesthesia was ineffective, her final administration of fentanyl had been provided a few hours prior to birth.
She felt sick. Ill-equipped for parenting. Undeserving.
Stephanie had tried to get clean multiple times while expecting, and felt terrible each time she was unsuccessful. She felt without value, berating herself for not being able to overcome the challenge. An obstetrician told her to “only” stop using. Even her supplier would not provide to her when she became clearly expecting.
“But I couldn’t,” she said. “I needed help.”
The widespread belief that her love for her baby would make her stop using only led to deeper self-loathing and self-harm, a trigger for her to use again. Yet she could not just wish her addiction away, any more than she could overcome a persistent condition.
The baby was taken to the special care nursery. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was attached to monitors, so little she thought she would hurt her. Holding her for the first time, she felt detached. “I looked at her and was like, ‘What is our future?’” She still wasn’t sure she wanted to be her mother.
After two days she decided to name her baby Izzie, after the attendant who showed compassion to her.
Nurses and doctors told her about a specialized facility, a innovative treatment home where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are supported as a unit, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is diagnosed with infant withdrawal condition regularly, infants are still rushed to special care and treated with pharmaceuticals while their mothers face custody evaluations. But a developing system of centers like this facility is demonstrating a key fact: when parents and infants remain united, outcomes improve, foster placements fall and long-term costs decline.
It took Stephanie a while to gather the courage to call, but she finally did. After confirming she would be a good fit for the program, care providers came to pick her up.
She departed the institution still in recovery, anxious and doubtful about what would come next.
At Maddie’s Place, Stephanie still worried that CPS would come take Izzie – even though she was hesitant about parenting. The concern persisted: that at any point, someone could walk in and separate them.
For the initial fortnight, Stephanie kept to herself. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I lacked confidence 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 relationship was delicate. The individuals she cared for always found ways to let her down. She was unable to value herself, not to mention anyone else.
Daily, staff from Maddie’s Place took her to a treatment center, given as medication. Gradually, she was starting to get clean.
She devoted all her time 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 intolerance to some formulas and obvious stomach troubles. She needed feeding therapy. She also had heightened sensory issues and required an professional – all frequent conditions for babies born with NAS.
Seeing that even a young person understands the need for care, then I could do this. I would become a mother.
During a pre-holiday visit, Stephanie was in the common room, where parents in active addiction can come for supervised visits with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a mentor, stopped by with her own family 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 showed no judgment,” 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 wearing dark trousers and a sweatshirt, a beanie with a bobble on her head, resting on the floor with the door behind her. She is slender. Her posture is humble so you miss her features. She is lifting the baby on her lap for the other kids to see and they are gathered around, fawning and reaching out to the baby.
A young boy, eight, asked the parents: “Where are all the dads?” The women attempted to clarify that the dads were busy, handling responsibilities, that they would be there if they could.
“When I have kids,” Jacob said, “I will excel as a father. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and the specialist looked at each other. “I became emotional,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that these babies deserve to be loved, then I could do this. I could parent.”
Methods to address infants affected by substances have existed for decades.
The assessment tool was developed in 1975|
