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 went to the hospital emergency room 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 assembled in a companion's property. She was also dependent on fentanyl.
As medical staff managed her infection, she started to feel anxious. Withdrawal was setting in. She bent over the bedside and became sick.
Stephanie finally broke down. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and take a hit.”
She had taken the drug before seeking medical help and had just enough time to get treated before she needed to go home to get high again. She thought she still had four weeks left to find a way to become sober and have this baby.
The medical professional intervened. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the leg infection was serious, but medical staff detected she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she left, she and her baby would not survive.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl periodically, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. Once the baby was born Stephanie would be switched to methadone, a treatment that reduces symptoms and is commonly used in substance abuse treatment.
After five days, on the 12th of November, Stephanie gave birth to a infant weighing a small weight – born before term, tiny yet healthy.
When the attendant inquired if she wanted to embrace her child, Stephanie said “not now.” She was numb. Her epidural had failed, her final administration of fentanyl had been given a few hours prior to birth.
She felt sick. Ill-equipped for parenting. Undeserving.
Stephanie had tried to get clean multiple times while expecting, and felt awful each time she relapsed. She felt worthless, criticizing herself for not being able to do the impossible. An obstetrician told her to “just” stop using. Even her source declined to supply to her when she became clearly expecting.
“Yet I was unable,” she said. “I required assistance.”
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 eliminate a chronic disease.
The newborn was transferred to the special care nursery. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was connected to tubes and leads, so little she thought she would harm her. Embracing her at last, she felt nothing. “I looked at her and was like, ‘What am I going to do with 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 nurse who had been so kind to her.
Medical personnel told her about Maddie’s Place, a innovative treatment home where women and their babies are supported as a unit, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is diagnosed with neonatal abstinence syndrome (NAS) regularly, infants are still whisked to NICUs and treated with pharmaceuticals while their mothers face custody evaluations. But a developing system of centers like Maddie’s Place is demonstrating a key fact: 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 verifying her eligibility for the program, a couple of employees came to bring her to the facility.
She left the medical center still in withdrawal, fearful and unsure about what would come next.
At the care center, Stephanie still was concerned that CPS would come seize her child – even though she was not sure she wanted to keep her. The fear lingered: that at any time, someone could arrive and take her baby away.
For the beginning period, Stephanie kept to herself. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I lacked confidence at that point.”
Homelessness, she said, was about enduring. Addiction came first; faith came last.
Stephanie had a single companion, but even that bond was fragile. The individuals she cared for always found ways to cause pain. She did not know how to value herself, much less anyone else.
Every day, staff from the center transported her to a recovery program, provided orally. Slowly, she was starting to get clean.
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 girl had some trouble feeding at first, with sensitivity to certain foods and obvious stomach troubles. She needed feeding therapy. She also had increased sensitivity and required an professional – all typical problems for babies born with NAS.
If this little kid could see that these babies deserve to be loved, then I could do this. I would become a mother.
During a pre-holiday visit, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where individuals struggling with substance use can come for monitored interactions with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a mentor, visited with her own family in tow to deliver baked goods. They all gathered around Stephanie, who was sitting on the floor holding Izzie.
The kids looked amazed in awe of the tiny infant in Stephanie’s arms. “They had no care in the world,” Stephanie said. “They overlooked my addiction. None of those things mattered to them.”
She keeps a photo of the moment. She is wearing dark trousers and a sweatshirt, a cap with a decoration on her head, seated on the ground with the door behind her. She is slender. Her head is tilted forward so you miss her features. She is holding Izzie up on her lap for the young ones to see and they are standing close, showing interest to the baby.
One child, eight, asked the moms: “Where are all the dads?” The women attempted to clarify that the dads were busy, engaged elsewhere, that they would be there if they could.
“In the future,” Jacob said, “I will excel as a father. They will know they are valued.”
Stephanie and the specialist exchanged glances. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that newborns require care, then I found the courage. I could parent.”
Tools for treating infants affected by substances have existed for decades.
The assessment tool was established in 1975|
