A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Saved Them Both.
In her eighth month of pregnancy and suffering, the expectant mother went to the medical facility after an infection began spreading up her legs. Jobless and without shelter, separated from loved ones, she stayed in a makeshift shelter she had assembled in a companion's property. She was also dependent on fentanyl.
As medical staff managed her infection, she started to feel anxious. The onset of withdrawal began. She bent over the bedside and became sick.
Stephanie eventually collapsed. “I need to leave. I have to go home and use drugs.”
She had consumed opioids before arriving at the hospital and had sufficient opportunity to get treated before she was compelled to leave to relapse. She thought she still had a month remaining to find a way to become sober and give birth.
The medical professional intervened. She told Stephanie she was not allowed to leave.
“I am leaving,” Stephanie said.
But the doctors would not let her go: the leg infection was critical, but doctors had discovered she also had an ruptured membrane. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would be at risk of death.
She encouraged the doctor to give Stephanie regulated amounts of fentanyl at regular intervals, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. Post-birth Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a drug that alleviates cravings and is commonly used in rehabilitation.
After five days, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie gave birth to a daughter weighing just over four pounds – premature, small but alive.
When the nurse asked if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “I cannot.” She was numb. Her pain relief did not work, her last dose of fentanyl had been administered shortly before she gave birth.
She felt sick. Not ready for motherhood. Unworthy.
Stephanie had sought recovery multiple times while expecting, and felt terrible each time she relapsed. She felt worthless, berating herself for not being able to achieve the unattainable. An OBGYN told her to “simply” stop using. Even her source refused to sell to her when she became visibly pregnant.
“Yet I was unable,” she said. “I had to seek support.”
The common assumption that her bond with her newborn would make her quit only led to deeper self-loathing and negative self-talk, a trigger for her to use again. Yet she could not easily command her addiction away, any more than she could will away a persistent condition.
The baby was taken to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie at last met her, she was connected to medical equipment, so little she thought she would harm her. Holding her for the first time, she felt detached. “I looked at her and was like, ‘How will I care for you?’” She still wasn’t sure she wanted to be her mother.
Two days later she decided to give her child the name the same as her nurse, after the professional who provided support to her.
Nurses and doctors told her about Maddie’s Place, a unique recovery environment where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are treated together, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is found to have infant withdrawal condition every 18 minutes, infants are still whisked to NICUs and medicated while their mothers face parental assessments. But a developing system of centers like this facility is proving a simple point: when parents and infants remain united, recovery succeeds, foster placements fall and long-term costs decline.
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 left the medical center still in withdrawal, anxious and doubtful about what would follow.
At the facility, Stephanie still worried that child services would come take Izzie – even though she was hesitant about parenting. The concern persisted: that at any time, someone could walk in and take her baby away.
For the beginning period, Stephanie kept to herself. “I didn’t really want anything to do with any of them,” she said. “I was suspicious at that point.”
Survival outdoors, she said, was about survival. Drugs came first; faith came last.
Stephanie had a single companion, but even that connection was tenuous. The individuals she cared for always found ways to hurt her. She lacked the ability to love herself, let alone anyone else.
Every day, staff from the facility drove her to a recovery program, given as medication. Gradually, she was starting to get clean.
She utilized each moment outside treatment with Izzie, and could see that her baby was getting the specialized care she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with intolerance to some formulas and obvious stomach troubles. She needed nutritional guidance. She also had increased sensitivity and required an professional – all frequent conditions for babies born with NAS.
If this little kid could see that these babies deserve to be loved, then I could do this. I would become a mother.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where parents in active addiction can come for supervised visits with their babies. An advocate, a peer support specialist, visited 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 tiny infant in Stephanie’s arms. “They showed no judgment,” Stephanie said. “My past did not matter to them. Such issues were irrelevant.”
She keeps a photo of the moment. She is wearing dark trousers and a sweatshirt, a beanie with a pompom on her head, resting on the floor with the exit nearby. She is slender. Her head is tilted forward so you miss her features. She is holding Izzie up on her lap for the children to see and they are crowding near, fawning and reaching out to the baby.
One child, eight, asked the moms: “Why are there no men?” The women attempted to clarify that the men were occupied, called away to other tasks, that they would be there if they could.
“Once I become a parent,” Jacob said, “I will excel as a father. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and her companion exchanged glances. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that newborns require care, then I found the courage. I could parent.”
Methods to address infants affected by substances have been used for a long time.
The evaluation method was established in 1975|
