A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: How Keeping Her Baby Rescued Both Lives.
In her eighth month of pregnancy and suffering, a woman named Stephanie went to the medical facility after an infection began spreading up her legs. Without a job or home, cut off from her relatives, she lived in a shed she had constructed in a friend’s yard. She was also hooked on fentanyl.
As medical staff managed her infection, she began to panic. The onset of withdrawal began. She leaned over the bed and became sick.
Stephanie finally broke down. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and use drugs.”
She had taken the drug before arriving at the hospital and had sufficient opportunity to get treated before she was compelled to leave to get high again. She thought she still had a month remaining to plan her recovery and give birth.
The medical professional intervened. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.
“I am leaving,” Stephanie said.
But the doctors would not let her go: the leg infection was severe, but medical staff detected she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would not survive.
Izzie persuaded the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl at regular intervals, knowing that symptoms could threaten her and the baby. Post-birth Stephanie would be transitioned to methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is frequently utilized in substance abuse treatment.
Five days later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie gave birth to a baby girl weighing 4lb 8oz – early, tiny yet healthy.
When the attendant inquired if she wanted to hold her baby, Stephanie said “no.” She was emotionless. Her epidural had failed, her previous intake of fentanyl had been provided four hours before delivery.
She felt unwell. Ill-equipped for parenting. Undeserving.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety multiple times while expecting, and felt awful each time she relapsed. She felt without value, criticizing herself for not being able to overcome the challenge. An obstetrician told her to “just” stop using. Even her supplier refused to sell to her when she became clearly expecting.
“Yet I was unable,” she said. “I required assistance.”
The pervasive expectation that her bond with her newborn would make her quit only led to increased guilt and self-harm, a impetus for her to relapse. Yet she could not just wish her addiction away, any more than she could eliminate 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 little she thought she would hurt her. Embracing her at last, she felt detached. “I gazed upon her and was like, ‘What is our future?’” She continued to doubt she wanted to be her mother.
After two days she decided to name her baby after her caregiver, after the professional who provided support to her.
Medical personnel 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 much of the US, where a baby is found to have infant withdrawal condition frequently, infants are still quickly moved to hospitals and given drugs while their mothers face parental assessments. But a small, growing network of centers like the care home is demonstrating a key fact: when mothers and babies stay together, outcomes improve, foster placements fall and long-term costs decline.
It took Stephanie a period to find strength to call, but she ultimately reached out. After confirming she would be a good fit for the program, two staff members came to pick her up.
She departed the institution still in detox, anxious and doubtful about what would follow.
At the facility, Stephanie still feared that CPS would come remove her daughter – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The fear lingered: that at any point, someone could walk in and separate them.
For the initial fortnight, Stephanie remained isolated. “I didn’t really want anything to do with any of them,” she said. “I lacked confidence at that point.”
Survival outdoors, she said, was about enduring. Addiction came first; trust came last.
Stephanie had a single companion, but even that bond was fragile. The individuals she cared for always found ways to let her down. She lacked the ability to love herself, let alone anyone else.
Every day, staff from Maddie’s Place took her to a treatment center, given as medication. Gradually, she was starting to get clean.
She utilized each moment when not in sessions 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 pronounced gastrointestinal issues. She needed feeding therapy. She also had increased sensitivity and required an specialist – all frequent conditions for babies affected by withdrawal.
If this little kid could see that these babies deserve to be loved, then I was capable. I could parent.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where those still using can come for supervised visits with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a mentor, came over with her own five kids in tow to deliver baked goods. They all assembled beside Stephanie, who was resting on the carpet holding Izzie.
The young ones stared in wonder of the small baby 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 has an image of the moment. She is clad in casual attire, a gray knit hat with a decoration on her head, seated on the ground with the door behind her. She is thin. Her posture is humble so you do not see her expression. She is holding Izzie up on her lap for the children to see and they are standing close, admiring and touching to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the parents: “Where are all the dads?” The parents responded that the dads were busy, called away to other tasks, 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 looked at each other. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that infants need affection, then I could do this. I could parent.”
Methods to address infants affected by substances have been available for years.
The assessment tool was developed in 1975|
