A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: The Decision to Keep Her Child Rescued Both Lives.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, Stephanie Rosell went to the hospital emergency room after a serious infection started to spread up her legs. Unemployed and homeless, estranged from her family, she resided in a small structure she had built in a companion's property. She was also addicted to fentanyl.
As physicians addressed her infection, she began to panic. Symptoms of withdrawal emerged. She bent over the bedside and vomited.
Stephanie finally broke down. “Listen, I gotta go. I have to go home and take a hit.”
She had used fentanyl before seeking medical help and had sufficient opportunity to get treated before she was compelled to leave to relapse. She thought she still had several weeks to figure out how to get clean and give birth.
The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was staying put.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the doctors would not let her go: the leg infection was serious, but physicians found she also had an ruptured membrane. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would not survive.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl every few hours, knowing that symptoms could threaten her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a treatment that reduces symptoms and is frequently utilized in addiction recovery.
Five days later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie delivered a baby girl weighing a small weight – premature, tiny yet healthy.
When the caregiver questioned if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “no.” She was detached. Her pain relief did not work, her previous intake of fentanyl had been given shortly before she gave birth.
She felt sick. Not ready for motherhood. Not fit.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety several times during pregnancy, and felt awful each time she failed. She felt without value, blaming 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 clearly expecting.
“Yet I was unable,” she said. “I needed help.”
The common assumption that her bond with her newborn would make her recover only led to deeper self-loathing and self-abuse, a trigger for her to relapse. Yet she could not simply will her addiction away, any more than she could will away a chronic disease.
The newborn was transferred to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was connected to tubes and leads, so small she thought she would hurt her. Holding her for the first time, she felt empty. “I looked at her and was like, ‘What is our future?’” She continued to doubt she wanted to be her mother.
Following a brief period she decided to name her baby after her caregiver, after the nurse who had been so kind to her.
Nurses and doctors told her about Maddie’s Place, a innovative treatment home where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are treated together, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is identified with neonatal abstinence syndrome (NAS) regularly, infants are still rushed to special care and medicated while their mothers face child-protection investigations. But a small, growing network of centers like this facility is demonstrating a key fact: when parents and infants remain united, results get better, fewer children enter care and future expenses reduce.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she eventually made the call. After ensuring she qualified for the program, two staff members came to pick her up.
She left the medical center still in detox, anxious and doubtful about what would come next.
At Maddie’s Place, Stephanie still worried that CPS would come take Izzie – even though she was not sure she wanted to keep her. The concern persisted: that at any time, someone could arrive and remove her child.
For the initial fortnight, Stephanie kept to herself. “I didn’t really want anything to do with any of them,” she said. “I lacked confidence at that point.”
Homelessness, she said, was about survival. Addiction came first; trust came last.
Stephanie had a trusted ally, but even that relationship was delicate. The people she loved always found ways to let her down. She did not know how to care for herself, not to mention anyone else.
Each day, staff from the facility transported her to a treatment center, provided orally. Gradually, she was beginning recovery.
She spent every minute when not in sessions with Izzie, and could see that her baby was receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her daughter struggled with eating at first, with sensitivity to certain foods and obvious stomach troubles. She needed feeding therapy. She also had increased sensitivity and required an specialist – all frequent conditions for babies born with NAS.
Seeing that even a young person understands the need for care, then I was capable. I could be a mom.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie sat in the visitation area, where those still using can come for guided meetings with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a recovery coach, visited with her own children 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 had no care in the world,” Stephanie said. “They overlooked my addiction. Such issues were irrelevant.”
She holds a picture of the moment. She is wearing dark trousers and a sweatshirt, a cap with a pompom on her head, resting on the floor with the entryway at her back. She is lean. Her posture is humble so you miss her features. She is holding Izzie up on her knee for the children to see and they are standing close, showing interest to the baby.
One child, eight, asked the moms: “Why are there no men?” The parents responded that the fathers had obligations, engaged elsewhere, that they would be there if possible.
“When I have kids,” Jacob said, “I will excel as a father. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and the specialist exchanged glances. “I became emotional,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that newborns require care, then I was able. I could be a mom.”
Tools for treating drug-exposed newborns have been used for a long time.
The evaluation method was developed in 1975|
