She Was Pregnant and Addicted to Fentanyl: How Keeping Her Baby Rescued Both Lives.
In her eighth month of pregnancy and suffering, the expectant mother went to the medical facility after her infection worsened up her legs. Unemployed and homeless, separated from loved ones, she stayed in a makeshift shelter she had constructed in a acquaintance's garden. She was also hooked on fentanyl.
As physicians addressed her infection, she began to panic. Symptoms of withdrawal emerged. She slumped forward and threw up.
Stephanie eventually collapsed. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and get high.”
She had taken the drug before arriving at the hospital and had just enough time to get treated before she needed to go home to get high again. She thought she still had four weeks left to plan her recovery and deliver her child.
The attending nurse disagreed. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.
“I am leaving,” Stephanie said.
But the hospital refused to discharge her: the leg infection was serious, 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.
Izzie persuaded the doctor to give Stephanie controlled doses of fentanyl every few hours, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be switched to methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is frequently utilized in addiction recovery.
Five days later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie gave birth to a daughter weighing a small weight – early, tiny yet healthy.
When the nurse asked if she wanted to embrace her child, Stephanie said “not now.” She was detached. Her epidural had failed, her previous intake of fentanyl had been given four hours before delivery.
She felt unwell. Unprepared to be a mother. Not fit.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety repeatedly before birth, and felt awful each time she relapsed. She felt hopeless, blaming herself for not being able to overcome the challenge. An doctor told her to “just” stop using. Even her source refused to sell to her when she became visibly pregnant.
“However, I failed,” she said. “I required assistance.”
The pervasive expectation that her bond with her newborn would make her recover only led to deeper self-loathing and negative self-talk, a impetus for her to relapse. Yet she could not just wish her addiction away, any more than she could overcome a persistent condition.
The baby was taken to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie at last met her, she was hooked up to monitors, so little she thought she would hurt her. Embracing her at last, she felt empty. “I just stared at her and was like, ‘What am I going to do with you?’” She still wasn’t sure she wanted to be her mother.
Two days later she decided to name her baby the same as her nurse, after the attendant who showed compassion to her.
Medical personnel told her about a specialized facility, a innovative treatment home where parents and infants affected by substance use are treated together, not apart.
In much of the US, where a baby is diagnosed with newborn addiction symptoms regularly, infants are still quickly moved to hospitals and given drugs while their mothers face parental assessments. But a developing system of centers like this facility is demonstrating a key fact: when mothers and babies stay together, results get better, custody cases decrease and overall savings increase.
It took Stephanie a while to gather the courage to call, but she ultimately reached out. 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 come next.
At Maddie’s Place, Stephanie still was concerned that child services would come remove her daughter – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The fear lingered: that at any moment, someone could enter and separate them.
For the beginning period, Stephanie remained isolated. “I didn’t really want anything to do with any of them,” she said. “I lacked confidence at that point.”
Life on the streets, she said, was about enduring. Addiction came first; faith came last.
Stephanie had a trusted ally, but even that bond was fragile. The people she loved always found ways to let her down. She lacked the ability to value herself, not to mention anyone else.
Every day, staff from the facility took her to a clinic for methadone, given as medication. Slowly, she was embracing sobriety.
She spent every minute 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 obvious stomach troubles. She needed nutritional guidance. She also had increased sensitivity and required an professional – all common issues for babies born with NAS.
Seeing that even a young person understands the need for care, then I found the strength. I would become a mother.
One afternoon before Thanksgiving, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where parents in active addiction can come for guided meetings with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a peer support specialist, stopped by with her own family in tow to drop off cookies. They all assembled beside Stephanie, who was resting on the carpet holding Izzie.
The kids looked amazed in awe of the tiny infant in Stephanie’s arms. “They showed no judgment,” Stephanie said. “They overlooked my addiction. None of those things mattered to them.”
She has an image of the moment. She is wearing casual attire, a gray knit hat with a bobble on her head, resting on the floor with the exit nearby. She is slender. Her head is tilted forward so you do not see her expression. She is holding Izzie up on her lap for the children to see and they are crowding near, admiring and touching to the baby.
One child, eight, asked the moms: “What about the fathers?” The parents responded that the men were occupied, handling responsibilities, that they would be there if possible.
“Once I become a parent,” Jacob said, “I’m going to be the best dad ever. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and Bunch-Smith exchanged glances. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “If this little kid could see that newborns require care, then I found the courage. I would become a mother.”
Methods to address drug-exposed newborns have been used for a long time.
The evaluation method was established in 1975|
