A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: The Decision to Keep Her Child Saved Them Both.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, a woman named Stephanie visited the ER after her infection worsened up her legs. Without a job or home, estranged from her family, she resided in a small structure she had constructed in a companion's property. She was also hooked on fentanyl.
As doctors treated her infection, she grew increasingly fearful. Withdrawal was setting in. She leaned over the bed and vomited.
Stephanie eventually collapsed. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and get high.”
She had consumed opioids before arriving at the hospital and had sufficient opportunity to get treated before she had to return to relapse. 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 allowed to leave.
“I am leaving,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the infection in her legs was serious, but doctors had discovered she also had an leakage of amniotic fluid. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she left, she and her baby would face grave danger.
She encouraged the doctor to give Stephanie controlled doses of fentanyl periodically, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. Post-birth Stephanie would be switched to methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is often prescribed in rehabilitation.
Five days later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie had a infant weighing a small weight – early, tiny yet healthy.
When the nurse asked if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “I cannot.” She was emotionless. Her anesthesia was ineffective, her final administration of fentanyl had been provided four hours before delivery.
She felt unwell. Ill-equipped for parenting. Unworthy.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety repeatedly before birth, and felt horrible each time she relapsed. She felt without value, criticizing herself for not being able to do the impossible. An doctor told her to “only” stop using. Even her dealer declined to supply to her when she became obviously with child.
“But I couldn’t,” she said. “I had to seek support.”
The common assumption that her affection for her child would make her quit only led to deeper self-loathing and negative self-talk, a trigger for her to return to drugs. 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 finally saw her her, she was hooked up to tubes and leads, so tiny she thought she would hurt her. Cradling her initially, she felt empty. “I gazed upon her and was like, ‘How will I care for you?’” She still wasn’t sure she wanted to be her mother.
Following a brief period she decided to give her child the name after her caregiver, after the professional who provided support to her.
Nurses and doctors told her about a care center, a innovative treatment home where parents and infants affected by substance use are cared for jointly, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is identified with infant withdrawal condition frequently, infants are still quickly moved to hospitals and treated with pharmaceuticals while their mothers face custody evaluations. But a small, growing network of centers like the care home is demonstrating a key fact: when families are kept intact, recovery succeeds, foster placements fall and long-term costs decline.
It took Stephanie a while to gather the courage to call, but she eventually made the call. After ensuring she qualified for the program, care providers came to bring her to the facility.
She departed the institution still in detox, scared and uncertain about what would come next.
At Maddie’s Place, Stephanie still was concerned that authorities would come remove her daughter – even though she was hesitant about parenting. The anxiety remained: that at any time, someone could arrive and remove her child.
For the initial fortnight, Stephanie remained isolated. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I was suspicious at that point.”
Survival outdoors, she said, was about enduring. Addiction came first; reliance 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 did not know how to value herself, not to mention anyone else.
Each day, staff from the facility took her to a clinic for methadone, provided orally. Gradually, she was beginning recovery.
She utilized each moment beyond therapy with Izzie, and could see that her baby was getting the specialized care she needed. Her girl had some trouble feeding at first, with adverse reactions to milk and severe digestive problems. She needed dietary support. She also had sensory challenges and required an professional – all frequent conditions for babies exposed to substances.
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 sat in the visitation area, where parents in active addiction can come for guided meetings with their babies. An advocate, a peer support specialist, came over 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 admiration of the tiny infant in Stephanie’s arms. “They showed no judgment,” Stephanie said. “They overlooked my addiction. They focused only on the baby.”
She has an image of the moment. She is wearing black pants and a hoodie, a cap with a bobble on her head, seated on the ground with the exit nearby. She is slender. Her face is downcast so you cannot see her face. She is holding Izzie up on her lap for the young ones to see and they are standing close, admiring and touching to the baby.
One child, eight, asked the moms: “What about the fathers?” The women attempted to clarify that the dads were busy, called away to other tasks, that they would be there if possible.
“In the future,” Jacob said, “I’m going to be the best dad ever. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and her companion made eye contact. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that infants need affection, then I found the courage. I would become a mother.”
Approaches for managing infants affected by substances have been used for a long time.
The assessment tool was created in 1975|
