A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Rescued Both Lives.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, a woman named Stephanie visited the medical facility after her infection worsened up her legs. Without a job or home, separated from loved ones, she resided in a small structure she had built in a companion's property. She was also dependent on fentanyl.
As physicians addressed her infection, she grew increasingly fearful. Withdrawal was setting in. She bent over the bedside and vomited.
Stephanie finally broke down. “Listen, I gotta go. I have to go home and use drugs.”
She had consumed opioids before arriving at the hospital and had just enough time to get treated before she was compelled to leave to get high again. She thought she still had several weeks to figure out how to get clean and give birth.
The attending nurse disagreed. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.
“I will go,” Stephanie said.
But the hospital refused to discharge her: the infection in her legs was serious, but physicians found she also had an ruptured membrane. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would face grave danger.
She encouraged the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl at regular intervals, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be switched to methadone, a drug that alleviates cravings and is frequently utilized in rehabilitation.
A short time later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie delivered a infant weighing just over four pounds – early, small but alive.
When the caregiver questioned if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “no.” She was detached. Her anesthesia was ineffective, her last dose of fentanyl had been provided shortly before she gave birth.
She felt ill. Ill-equipped for parenting. Undeserving.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety repeatedly before birth, and felt horrible each time she failed. She felt hopeless, berating herself for not being able to achieve the unattainable. An doctor told her to “simply” stop using. Even her dealer declined to supply to her when she became visibly pregnant.
“However, I failed,” she said. “I needed help.”
The pervasive expectation that her bond with her newborn would make her quit only led to greater shame and negative self-talk, a trigger for her to relapse. Yet she could not simply will her addiction away, any more than she could overcome a long-term illness.
The infant was moved to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie eventually visited her, she was hooked up to monitors, so tiny she thought she would harm her. Cradling her initially, she felt empty. “I just stared at her and was like, ‘What am I going to do with you?’” She continued to doubt she wanted to be her mother.
Two days later she decided to call her daughter after her caregiver, after the professional who provided support to her.
Hospital staff told her about Maddie’s Place, 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 newborn addiction symptoms 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 Maddie’s Place is showing an important truth: when parents and infants remain united, recovery succeeds, fewer children enter care and future expenses reduce.
It took Stephanie a period to find strength to call, but she finally did. After ensuring she qualified for the program, a couple of employees came to bring her to the facility.
She departed the institution still in recovery, anxious and doubtful about what would happen next.
At the care center, Stephanie still feared that child services would come take Izzie – even though she was not sure she wanted to keep her. The fear lingered: that at any point, someone could arrive and take her baby away.
For the beginning period, Stephanie kept to herself. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I didn’t have a lot of trust at that point.”
Homelessness, she said, was about survival. Drugs came first; trust came last.
Stephanie had one close friend, but even that bond was fragile. The individuals she cared for always found ways to cause pain. She lacked the ability to value herself, not to mention anyone else.
Daily, staff from the facility drove her to a recovery program, provided orally. Slowly, she was beginning recovery.
She spent every minute beyond therapy with Izzie, and could see that her baby was receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with sensitivity to certain foods and severe digestive problems. She needed dietary support. She also had increased sensitivity and required an professional – all typical problems for babies born with NAS.
When a child recognizes these infants need affection, then I found the strength. I could be a mom.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie was in the common room, where individuals struggling with substance use can come for guided meetings with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a peer support specialist, stopped by with her own children in tow to bring treats. They all assembled beside Stephanie, who was seated on the ground holding Izzie.
The young ones stared in awe 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. Such issues were irrelevant.”
She holds a picture of the moment. She is wearing black pants and a hoodie, a beanie with a decoration on her head, resting on the floor with the door behind her. She is lean. Her posture is humble so you miss her features. She is presenting her daughter on her leg for the children to see and they are standing close, admiring and touching to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the moms: “What about the fathers?” The moms tried to explain that the men were occupied, engaged elsewhere, that they would be there if they could.
“In the future,” Jacob said, “I plan to be a great parent. They will know they are valued.”
Stephanie and Bunch-Smith looked at each other. “I became emotional,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that infants need affection, then I found the courage. I could parent.”
Tools for treating babies with exposure have been available for years.
The evaluation method was created in 1975|
