A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: The Decision to Keep Her Child Transformed Their Futures.
In her eighth month of pregnancy and suffering, a woman named Stephanie went to the medical facility after an infection began spreading up her legs. Jobless and without shelter, cut off from her relatives, she lived in a shed she had constructed in a companion's property. She was also addicted to fentanyl.
As physicians addressed her infection, she started to feel anxious. Withdrawal was setting in. She slumped forward and became sick.
Stephanie finally broke down. “I have to get out of here. I have to go home and use drugs.”
She had used fentanyl before seeking medical help and had just enough time to get treated before she had to return to relapse. She thought she still had four weeks left to figure out how to get clean and have this baby.
The medical professional intervened. She told Stephanie she was not allowed to leave.
“I will go,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the infection in her legs was critical, but medical staff detected she also had an leakage of amniotic fluid. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she left, she and her baby would not survive.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie regulated amounts of fentanyl every few hours, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. Post-birth Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is often prescribed in addiction recovery.
After five days, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie gave birth to a baby girl weighing just over four pounds – premature, little but surviving.
When the caregiver questioned if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “not now.” She was emotionless. Her epidural had failed, her last dose of fentanyl had been provided shortly before she gave birth.
She felt unwell. Unprepared to be a mother. Not fit.
Stephanie had tried to get clean 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 obstetrician told her to “just” stop using. Even her dealer declined to supply to her when she became clearly expecting.
“But I couldn’t,” she said. “I required assistance.”
The pervasive expectation that her affection for her child would make her quit only led to greater shame and negative self-talk, a cause for her to return to drugs. Yet she could not easily command her addiction away, any more than she could overcome a long-term illness.
The newborn was transferred to the special care nursery. When Stephanie eventually visited her, she was hooked up to tubes and leads, so little she thought she would hurt her. Embracing her at last, she felt empty. “I looked at her and was like, ‘What is our future?’” She remained uncertain she wanted to be her mother.
After two days she decided to call her daughter Izzie, after the nurse who had been so kind to her.
Medical personnel told her about a care center, a innovative treatment home where women and their babies are treated together, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is diagnosed with newborn addiction symptoms frequently, infants are still quickly moved to hospitals and treated with pharmaceuticals while their mothers face custody evaluations. But a developing system of centers like this facility is showing an important truth: when families are kept intact, outcomes improve, custody cases decrease and overall savings increase.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she ultimately reached out. After ensuring she qualified for the program, two staff members came to bring her to the facility.
She left the medical center still in withdrawal, scared and uncertain about what would happen next.
At the facility, Stephanie still was concerned that authorities would come seize her child – even though she was hesitant about parenting. The anxiety remained: that at any time, someone could arrive and take her baby away.
For the first two weeks, Stephanie remained isolated. “I didn’t really want anything to do with any of them,” she said. “I didn’t have a lot of trust at that point.”
Homelessness, she said, was about survival. Addiction came first; reliance came last.
Stephanie had one close friend, but even that relationship was delicate. The people she loved always found ways to hurt her. She was unable to value herself, much less anyone else.
Every day, staff from the center took her to a treatment center, given as medication. Over time, she was starting to get clean.
She utilized each moment outside treatment with Izzie, and could see that her baby was getting the specialized care she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with intolerance to some formulas and obvious stomach troubles. She needed feeding therapy. She also had sensory challenges and required an specialist – all typical problems for babies exposed to substances.
If this little kid could see that these babies deserve to be loved, then I was capable. I could be a mom.
During a pre-holiday visit, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where parents in active addiction can come for monitored interactions with their babies. An advocate, a peer support specialist, came over with her own children in tow to bring treats. They all assembled beside Stephanie, who was resting on the carpet holding Izzie.
The kids looked amazed in wonder of the little newborn in Stephanie’s arms. “They had no care in the world,” Stephanie said. “They didn’t care that I had used drugs with her. None of those things mattered to them.”
She keeps a photo of the moment. She is wearing casual attire, a cap with a pompom on her head, sitting on the wooden floor with the exit nearby. She is lean. Her head is tilted forward so you cannot see her face. She is lifting the baby on her leg for the children to see and they are crowding near, showing interest to the baby.
A young boy, eight, asked the moms: “Where are all the dads?” The moms tried to explain that the fathers had obligations, 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. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and her companion exchanged glances. “I just lost it and fell apart,” Stephanie said. “If this little kid could see that newborns require care, then I was able. I could parent.”
Tools for treating infants affected by substances have existed for decades.
The evaluation method was created in 1975|
