Fentanyl Addiction During Pregnancy: Choosing Motherhood Rescued Both Lives.
In her eighth month of pregnancy and suffering, a woman named Stephanie went to the ER after her infection worsened up her legs. Jobless and without shelter, estranged from her family, she stayed in a makeshift shelter she had assembled in a companion's property. She was also hooked on fentanyl.
As medical staff managed her infection, she started to feel anxious. Symptoms of withdrawal emerged. She leaned over the bed and threw up.
Stephanie eventually collapsed. “I need to leave. I have to go home and take a hit.”
She had used fentanyl before seeking medical help and had only a brief window to get treated before she was compelled to leave to get high again. She thought she still had a month remaining to find a way to become sober and deliver her child.
The attending nurse disagreed. She told Stephanie she was staying put.
“I am leaving,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the infection in her legs was serious, but doctors had discovered she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would not survive.
She encouraged the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl periodically, knowing that symptoms could threaten her and the baby. Post-birth Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a drug that alleviates cravings and is frequently utilized in substance abuse treatment.
A short time later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie delivered a infant weighing a small weight – premature, small but alive.
When the nurse asked if she wanted to embrace her child, Stephanie said “I cannot.” She was detached. 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. Not fit.
Stephanie had tried to get clean multiple times while expecting, and felt horrible each time she relapsed. She felt hopeless, blaming 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 needed help.”
The widespread belief that her love for her baby would make her stop using only led to increased guilt and self-abuse, a cause for her to return to drugs. Yet she could not just wish her addiction away, any more than she could overcome a long-term illness.
The baby was taken to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie eventually visited her, she was connected to monitors, so small 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 name her baby Izzie, after the nurse who had been so kind to her.
Nurses and doctors told her about Maddie’s Place, a innovative treatment home where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are supported as a unit, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is found to have infant withdrawal condition regularly, infants are still whisked to NICUs and given drugs while their mothers face child-protection investigations. But a small, growing network of centers like the care home is showing an important truth: when parents and infants remain united, recovery succeeds, fewer children enter care and overall savings increase.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she eventually made the call. After verifying her eligibility for the program, a couple of employees came to pick her up.
She stepped out of the hospital still in withdrawal, anxious and doubtful about what would follow.
At Maddie’s Place, Stephanie still feared that child services would come take Izzie – even though she was hesitant about parenting. The concern persisted: that at any time, someone could walk in and take her baby away.
For the first two weeks, Stephanie stayed withdrawn. “I preferred to be alone,” she said. “I didn’t have a lot of trust at that point.”
Survival outdoors, she said, was about enduring. Substances came first; reliance came last.
Stephanie had a single companion, but even that bond was fragile. The those close to her always found ways to hurt her. She did not know how to value herself, not to mention anyone else.
Each day, staff from the center drove her to a treatment center, provided orally. Over time, she was beginning recovery.
She spent every minute 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 intolerance to some formulas and severe digestive problems. She needed feeding therapy. She also had increased sensitivity and required an occupational therapist – all frequent conditions for babies born with NAS.
If this little kid could see that these babies deserve to be loved, then I was capable. I could parent.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where those still using can come for supervised visits with their babies. An advocate, a mentor, came over with her own five kids in tow to drop off cookies. They all assembled beside Stephanie, who was seated on the ground holding Izzie.
The children were wide-eyed in awe of the tiny infant in Stephanie’s arms. “They were innocent,” Stephanie said. “My past did not matter to them. Such issues were irrelevant.”
She holds a picture of the moment. She is clad in dark trousers and a sweatshirt, a cap with a pompom on her head, sitting on the wooden floor with the entryway at her back. She is lean. Her face is downcast so you miss her features. She is presenting her daughter on her lap for the other kids to see and they are crowding near, fawning and reaching out to the baby.
One child, eight, asked the parents: “What about the fathers?” The women attempted to clarify that the dads were busy, called away to other tasks, that they would be there if possible.
“Once I become a parent,” Jacob said, “I will excel as a father. They will know they are valued.”
Stephanie and the specialist exchanged glances. “I just lost it and fell apart,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that these babies deserve to be loved, then I found the courage. I would become a mother.”
Tools for treating drug-exposed newborns have been used for a long time.
The evaluation method was developed in 1975|
