A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Rescued Both Lives.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, the expectant mother went to the hospital emergency room after her infection worsened up her legs. Without a job or home, separated from loved ones, she resided in a small structure she had constructed in a acquaintance's garden. She was also dependent on fentanyl.
As medical staff managed her infection, she started to feel anxious. The onset of withdrawal began. She slumped forward and became sick.
Stephanie ultimately gave in. “Listen, I gotta go. I have to go home and take a hit.”
She had consumed opioids before seeking medical help and had sufficient opportunity to get treated before she needed to go home to relapse. She thought she still had a month remaining to figure out how to get clean and deliver her child.
The attending nurse disagreed. She told Stephanie she was staying put.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the infection in her legs was severe, but medical staff detected she also had an ruptured membrane. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would be at risk of death.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie regulated amounts of fentanyl every few hours, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be transitioned to methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is commonly used in substance abuse treatment.
After five days, on a day in November 2022, Stephanie had a daughter weighing a small weight – premature, little but surviving.
When the caregiver questioned if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “no.” She was emotionless. Her anesthesia was ineffective, her final administration of fentanyl had been given four hours before delivery.
She felt unwell. Not ready for motherhood. Unworthy.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety multiple times while expecting, and felt terrible each time she failed. She felt hopeless, blaming herself for not being able to overcome the challenge. An doctor told her to “simply” stop using. Even her supplier declined to supply to her when she became obviously with child.
“However, I failed,” she said. “I had to seek support.”
The widespread belief that her bond with her newborn would make her stop using only led to deeper self-loathing and negative self-talk, a trigger for her to relapse. Yet she could not just wish her addiction away, any more than she could overcome a chronic disease.
The newborn was transferred to the NICU. When Stephanie eventually visited her, she was hooked up to medical equipment, so small she thought she would break her. Cradling her initially, she felt empty. “I looked at her and was like, ‘What is our future?’” She still wasn’t sure she wanted to be her mother.
Following a brief period she decided to give her child the name the same as her nurse, after the professional who provided support to her.
Hospital staff told her about a care center, a new kind of care center where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are supported as a unit, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is identified with infant withdrawal condition regularly, infants are still whisked to NICUs and treated with pharmaceuticals while their mothers face parental assessments. But a small, growing network of centers like this facility is proving a simple point: when families are kept intact, results get better, foster placements fall and overall savings increase.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she finally did. After ensuring she qualified for the program, care providers came to pick her up.
She departed the institution still in detox, anxious and doubtful about what would follow.
At the facility, Stephanie still was concerned that authorities would come take Izzie – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The fear lingered: that at any point, someone could enter and take her baby away.
For the beginning period, Stephanie remained isolated. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I was suspicious at that point.”
Life on the streets, she said, was about survival. Addiction came first; trust came last.
Stephanie had a single companion, but even that bond was fragile. The people she loved always found ways to let her down. She was unable to love herself, not to mention anyone else.
Every day, staff from the center transported her to a recovery program, given as medication. Over time, she was beginning recovery.
She devoted all her time when not in sessions with Izzie, and could see that her baby was getting the specialized care 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 heightened sensory issues and required an occupational therapist – all frequent conditions for babies affected by withdrawal.
Seeing that even a young person understands the need for care, then I was capable. I would become a mother.
During a pre-holiday visit, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where those still using can come for guided meetings with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a peer support specialist, visited with her own children in tow to drop off cookies. They all crowded near Stephanie, who was resting on the carpet holding Izzie.
The children were wide-eyed in admiration of the little newborn in Stephanie’s arms. “They showed no judgment,” Stephanie said. “They didn’t care that I had used drugs with her. They focused only on the baby.”
She keeps a photo of the moment. She is wearing casual attire, a beanie with a decoration on her head, seated on the ground with the entryway at her back. She is lean. Her posture is humble so you do not see her expression. She is lifting the baby on her leg for the other kids to see and they are standing close, admiring and touching to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the mothers: “Where are all the dads?” The women attempted to clarify that the men were occupied, handling responsibilities, that they would be there if possible.
“Once I become a parent,” Jacob said, “I will excel as a father. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and Bunch-Smith looked at each other. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that these babies deserve to be loved, then I was able. I would become a mother.”
Tools for treating babies with exposure have been available for years.
The assessment tool was established in 1975|
