A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: How Keeping Her Baby Rescued Both Lives.
Eight months pregnant and in severe pain, the expectant mother visited the ER after an infection began spreading up her legs. Without a job or home, separated from loved ones, she stayed in a makeshift shelter she had constructed in a friend’s yard. She was also addicted to fentanyl.
As physicians addressed her infection, she started to feel anxious. Withdrawal was setting in. She leaned over the bed and became sick.
Stephanie finally broke down. “I need to leave. I have to go home and get high.”
She had used fentanyl before seeking medical help and had sufficient opportunity to get treated before she had to return to use once more. She thought she still had a month remaining to figure out how to get clean and have this baby.
The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was not allowed to leave.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the leg infection was critical, but physicians found she also had an ruptured membrane. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she left, she and her baby would not survive.
She encouraged the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl periodically, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a treatment that reduces symptoms and is commonly used in rehabilitation.
A short time later, on a day in November 2022, Stephanie gave birth to a infant weighing 4lb 8oz – early, tiny yet healthy.
When the nurse asked if she wanted to embrace her child, Stephanie said “not now.” She was emotionless. Her pain relief did not work, her last dose of fentanyl had been administered a few hours prior to birth.
She felt ill. Ill-equipped for parenting. Not fit.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety several times during pregnancy, and felt horrible each time she relapsed. She felt worthless, criticizing herself for not being able to overcome the challenge. An OBGYN told her to “only” stop using. Even her source would not provide to her when she became clearly expecting.
“But I couldn’t,” she said. “I had to seek support.”
The common assumption that her affection for her child would make her recover only led to increased guilt and self-abuse, a trigger for her to use again. Yet she could not easily command her addiction away, any more than she could will away a long-term illness.
The baby was taken to the NICU. When Stephanie eventually visited her, she was hooked up to monitors, so little she thought she would harm her. Embracing her at last, she felt detached. “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 nurse who had been so kind to her.
Medical personnel told her about a care center, a unique recovery environment where parents and infants affected by substance use are cared for jointly, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is identified with newborn addiction symptoms every 18 minutes, infants are still rushed to special care and given drugs while their mothers face custody evaluations. But a developing system of centers like the care home is proving a simple point: when families are kept intact, recovery succeeds, 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, two staff members came to collect her.
She left the medical center still in withdrawal, anxious and doubtful about what would happen next.
At Maddie’s Place, Stephanie still worried that CPS would come remove her daughter – even though she was not sure she wanted to keep her. The anxiety remained: that at any point, someone could enter and separate them.
For the first two weeks, Stephanie stayed withdrawn. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I was suspicious at that point.”
Homelessness, she said, was about getting by. 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 lacked the ability to love herself, not to mention anyone else.
Every day, staff from Maddie’s Place transported her to a clinic for methadone, given as medication. Gradually, she was embracing sobriety.
She utilized each moment outside treatment with Izzie, and could see that her baby was obtaining necessary support she needed. Her daughter struggled with eating at first, with adverse reactions to milk and pronounced gastrointestinal issues. She needed feeding therapy. She also had increased sensitivity and required an professional – all typical problems for babies exposed to substances.
Seeing that even a young person understands the need for care, then I found the strength. I could be a mom.
During a pre-holiday visit, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where parents in active addiction can come for guided meetings with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a recovery coach, stopped by with her own five kids in tow to bring treats. They all assembled beside Stephanie, who was resting on the carpet holding Izzie.
The young ones stared in wonder of the little newborn 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 clad in casual attire, a cap with a decoration on her head, resting on the floor with the entryway at her back. She is slender. Her face is downcast so you cannot see her face. She is presenting her daughter on her knee for the young ones to see and they are crowding near, fawning and reaching out to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the parents: “Where are all the dads?” The moms tried to explain that the dads were busy, called away to other tasks, that they would be there given the chance.
“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 could do this. I would become a mother.”
Approaches for managing drug-exposed newborns have been used for a long time.
The evaluation method was established in 1975|
