A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Rescued Both Lives.
In her eighth month of pregnancy and suffering, Stephanie Rosell visited the ER after her infection worsened up her legs. Jobless and without shelter, estranged from her family, she resided in a small structure she had constructed in a friend’s yard. She was also addicted to fentanyl.
As doctors treated her infection, she grew increasingly fearful. Withdrawal was setting in. She slumped forward and became sick.
Stephanie ultimately gave in. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and use drugs.”
She had consumed opioids before seeking medical help and had only a brief window to get treated before she had to return to use once more. She thought she still had a month remaining to find a way to become sober and deliver her child.
The medical professional intervened. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.
“I will go,” Stephanie said.
But the doctors would not let her go: the leg infection was serious, but doctors had discovered she also had an leakage of amniotic fluid. The nurse, her nurse, warned her: if she walked out, she and her baby would face grave danger.
Izzie persuaded 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 switched to methadone, a treatment that reduces symptoms and is commonly used in substance abuse treatment.
After five days, on the 12th of November, Stephanie gave birth to a infant weighing 4lb 8oz – early, tiny yet healthy.
When the nurse asked if she wanted to embrace her child, Stephanie said “I cannot.” She was emotionless. Her epidural had failed, her last dose of fentanyl had been provided a few hours prior to birth.
She felt ill. Ill-equipped for parenting. Undeserving.
Stephanie had tried to get clean repeatedly before birth, and felt awful each time she was unsuccessful. She felt worthless, berating herself for not being able to achieve the unattainable. An OBGYN told her to “simply” stop using. Even her supplier declined to supply to her when she became clearly expecting.
“Yet I was unable,” she said. “I had to seek support.”
The common assumption that her affection for her child would make her stop using only led to deeper self-loathing and negative self-talk, a cause for her to return to drugs. Yet she could not just wish her addiction away, any more than she could will away a persistent condition.
The newborn was transferred to the NICU. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was attached to tubes and leads, so small she thought she would break her. Embracing her at last, she felt detached. “I looked at her and was like, ‘What am I going to do with you?’” She continued to doubt she wanted to be her mother.
After two days she decided to name her baby Izzie, after the professional who provided support to her.
Medical personnel told her about a care center, a unique recovery environment where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are cared for jointly, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is found to have newborn addiction symptoms every 18 minutes, infants are still rushed to special care and treated with pharmaceuticals while their mothers face custody evaluations. But a limited but expanding group of centers like the care home is demonstrating a key fact: when parents and infants remain united, results get better, foster placements fall and future expenses reduce.
It took Stephanie a while to gather the courage to call, but she finally did. After verifying her eligibility for the program, a couple of employees came to collect her.
She left the medical center still in withdrawal, fearful and unsure about what would come next.
At the facility, Stephanie still worried that child services would come remove her daughter – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The fear lingered: that at any moment, someone could walk in and remove her child.
For the beginning period, Stephanie remained isolated. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I lacked confidence at that point.”
Survival outdoors, she said, was about enduring. Addiction came first; faith came last.
Stephanie had a single companion, but even that connection was tenuous. The people she loved always found ways to hurt her. She was unable to care for herself, much less anyone else.
Daily, staff from Maddie’s Place transported her to a treatment center, provided orally. Over time, she was embracing sobriety.
She utilized each moment 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 adverse reactions to milk and pronounced gastrointestinal issues. She needed nutritional guidance. She also had heightened sensory issues and required an professional – all typical problems for babies affected by withdrawal.
Seeing that even a young person understands the need for care, then I could do this. I could parent.
During a pre-holiday visit, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where those still using can come for guided meetings with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a mentor, 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 wonder of the tiny infant in Stephanie’s arms. “They showed no judgment,” Stephanie said. “They didn’t care that I had used drugs with her. None of those things mattered to them.”
She holds a picture of the moment. She is clad in black pants and a hoodie, a cap with a decoration on her head, sitting on the wooden floor with the entryway at her back. She is slender. 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 crowding near, showing interest to the baby.
One child, eight, asked the parents: “What about the fathers?” The parents responded that the fathers had obligations, handling responsibilities, that they would be there if possible.
“When I have kids,” Jacob said, “I’m going to be the best dad ever. They will know they are valued.”
Stephanie and Bunch-Smith made eye contact. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that newborns require care, then I found the courage. I could be a mom.”
Approaches for managing drug-exposed newborns have existed for decades.
The assessment tool was established in 1975|
