A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Transformed Their Futures.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, the expectant mother arrived at the ER after an infection began spreading up her legs. Jobless and without shelter, separated from loved ones, she resided in a small structure she had built in a acquaintance's garden. She was also hooked on fentanyl.
As medical staff managed her infection, she started to feel anxious. Symptoms of withdrawal emerged. She bent over the bedside 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 arriving at the hospital and had just enough time to get treated before she had to return to use once more. She thought she still had a month remaining to find a way to become sober and give birth.
The medical professional intervened. She told Stephanie she was staying put.
“I will go,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the leg infection was serious, but doctors had discovered she also had an ruptured membrane. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would be at risk of death.
Izzie persuaded the doctor to give Stephanie regulated amounts of fentanyl periodically, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. Once the baby was born Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a treatment that reduces symptoms and is commonly used in rehabilitation.
After five days, on the 12th of November, Stephanie had a infant weighing 4lb 8oz – born before term, small but alive.
When the nurse asked if she wanted to hold her baby, Stephanie said “I cannot.” She was numb. Her epidural had failed, her previous intake 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 several times during pregnancy, and felt terrible each time she was unsuccessful. She felt without value, berating herself for not being able to achieve the unattainable. An OBGYN told her to “only” stop using. Even her dealer refused to sell to her when she became obviously with child.
“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 greater shame and self-harm, a impetus for her to relapse. Yet she could not simply will her addiction away, any more than she could eliminate a chronic disease.
The baby was taken to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie eventually visited her, she was hooked up to tubes and leads, so little she thought she would break her. Cradling her initially, she felt detached. “I gazed upon her and was like, ‘How will I care for you?’” She still wasn’t sure she wanted to be her mother.
After two days she decided to give her child the name the same as her nurse, after the attendant who showed compassion to her.
Hospital staff told her about a specialized facility, a unique recovery environment where women and their babies are cared for jointly, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is identified with newborn addiction symptoms 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 this facility is proving a simple point: when parents and infants remain united, results get better, custody cases decrease and overall savings increase.
It took Stephanie a while to gather the courage to call, but she eventually made the call. After ensuring she qualified for the program, a couple of employees came to pick her up.
She left the medical center still in recovery, fearful and unsure about what would happen next.
At Maddie’s Place, Stephanie still feared that authorities would come seize her child – even though she was hesitant about parenting. The fear lingered: that at any moment, someone could walk in and take her baby away.
For the beginning period, Stephanie kept to herself. “I avoided interaction,” she said. “I didn’t have a lot of trust at that point.”
Survival outdoors, 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, much less anyone else.
Each day, staff from the facility took her to a treatment center, administered in pill form. Over time, she was beginning recovery.
She utilized each moment when not in sessions with Izzie, and could see that her baby was receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with sensitivity to certain foods and severe digestive problems. She needed nutritional guidance. She also had increased sensitivity and required an specialist – all frequent conditions for babies affected by withdrawal.
Seeing that even a young person understands the need for care, then I could do this. 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 supervised visits with their babies. A support specialist, a peer support specialist, came over with her own children in tow to drop off cookies. They all gathered around Stephanie, who was resting on the carpet holding Izzie.
The young ones stared in admiration of the tiny infant in Stephanie’s arms. “They showed no judgment,” Stephanie said. “My past did not matter to them. They focused only on the baby.”
She has an image of the moment. She is dressed in casual attire, a gray knit hat with a decoration on her head, seated on the ground with the entryway at her back. She is slender. Her face is downcast so you miss her features. She is lifting the baby on her leg for the young ones to see and they are standing close, showing interest to the baby.
One child, eight, asked the moms: “What about the fathers?” The moms tried to explain that the men were occupied, handling responsibilities, that they would be there if possible.
“Once I become a parent,” Jacob said, “I’m going to be the best dad ever. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and the specialist made eye contact. “I just lost it and fell apart,” Stephanie said. “If this little kid could see that infants need affection, then I was able. I could parent.”
Methods to address drug-exposed newborns have been available for years.
The assessment tool was developed in 1975|