A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Saved Them Both.
In her eighth month of pregnancy and suffering, a woman named Stephanie arrived at the hospital emergency room after her infection worsened up her legs. Without a job or home, cut off from her relatives, she resided in a small structure she had built in a companion's property. She was also dependent on fentanyl.
As medical staff managed her infection, she grew increasingly fearful. The onset of withdrawal began. She bent over the bedside and vomited.
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 sufficient opportunity to get treated before she was compelled to leave to get high again. She thought she still had several weeks to find a way to become sober and have this baby.
The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.
“Yes, I am,” Stephanie said.
But the hospital refused to discharge her: the leg infection was serious, but physicians found she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, her nurse, warned her: if she left, she and her baby would face grave danger.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie regulated amounts of fentanyl at regular intervals, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be switched to methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is commonly used in rehabilitation.
After five days, on a day in November 2022, Stephanie delivered a infant weighing a small weight – premature, small but alive.
When the attendant inquired if she wanted to hold her baby, Stephanie said “I cannot.” She was detached. Her pain relief did not work, her previous intake of fentanyl had been administered shortly before she gave birth.
She felt sick. Not ready for motherhood. Not fit.
Stephanie had sought recovery several times during pregnancy, and felt awful each time she failed. She felt hopeless, criticizing herself for not being able to overcome the challenge. An OBGYN told her to “just” stop using. Even her dealer refused to sell to her when she became clearly expecting.
“Yet I was unable,” she said. “I had to seek support.”
The widespread belief that her love for her baby would make her recover only led to greater shame and negative self-talk, a cause for her to use again. Yet she could not just wish her addiction away, any more than she could will away a long-term illness.
The newborn was transferred to the special care nursery. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was connected to tubes and leads, so small she thought she would harm her. Holding her for the first time, 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.
After two days 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 unique recovery environment where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are treated together, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is found to have newborn addiction symptoms every 18 minutes, infants are still rushed to special care and given drugs while their mothers face child-protection investigations. 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 future expenses reduce.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she finally did. After ensuring she qualified for the program, a couple of employees came to bring her to the facility.
She departed the institution still in recovery, scared and uncertain about what would happen 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 concern persisted: that at any moment, someone could arrive and remove her child.
For the beginning period, Stephanie stayed withdrawn. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I didn’t have a lot of trust at that point.”
Life on the streets, she said, was about getting by. Drugs came first; trust came last.
Stephanie had one close friend, but even that relationship was delicate. The those close to her always found ways to hurt her. She was unable to love herself, much less anyone else.
Daily, staff from Maddie’s Place took her to a recovery program, provided orally. Slowly, she was embracing sobriety.
She utilized each moment outside treatment with Izzie, and could see that her baby was receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with intolerance to some formulas and severe digestive problems. She needed dietary support. She also had sensory challenges and required an specialist – all typical problems for babies exposed to substances.
Seeing that even a young person understands the need for care, then I could do this. I could parent.
One afternoon before Thanksgiving, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where those still using can come for guided meetings with their babies. An advocate, a mentor, visited with her own five kids in tow to bring treats. They all assembled beside Stephanie, who was seated on the ground holding Izzie.
The children were wide-eyed in wonder of the small baby in Stephanie’s arms. “They had no care in the world,” Stephanie said. “My past did not matter to them. They focused only on the baby.”
She keeps a photo of the moment. She is dressed in dark trousers and a sweatshirt, a gray knit hat with a decoration on her head, sitting on the wooden floor with the entryway at her back. She is slender. Her face is downcast so you cannot see her face. She is holding Izzie up on her leg for the other kids to see and they are crowding near, admiring and touching to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the parents: “Why are there no men?” The moms tried to explain that the men were occupied, handling responsibilities, that they would be there if possible.
“In the future,” Jacob said, “I plan to be a great parent. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and the specialist exchanged glances. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that infants need affection, then I could do this. I could parent.”
Approaches for managing babies with exposure have been available for years.
The evaluation method was established in 1975|
