A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: How Keeping Her Baby Rescued Both Lives.
Eight months pregnant and in severe pain, Stephanie Rosell went to the ER after her infection worsened up her legs. Unemployed and homeless, estranged from her family, she resided in a small structure she had constructed in a friend’s yard. She was also hooked on fentanyl.
As doctors treated her infection, she grew increasingly fearful. Symptoms of withdrawal emerged. She leaned over the bed and became sick.
Stephanie ultimately gave in. “Listen, I gotta go. I have to go home and take a hit.”
She had taken the drug before coming to the ER and had sufficient opportunity to get treated before she had to return to relapse. She thought she still had several weeks to figure out how to get clean and deliver her child.
The attending nurse disagreed. She told Stephanie she was staying put.
“I am leaving,” Stephanie said.
But the doctors would not let her go: the infection in her legs was severe, but doctors had discovered she also had an leakage of amniotic fluid. The nurse, her nurse, warned her: if she departed, she and her baby would be at risk of death.
She encouraged the doctor to give Stephanie controlled doses of fentanyl periodically, knowing that symptoms could threaten her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be switched to methadone, a treatment that reduces symptoms and is often prescribed in substance abuse treatment.
After five days, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie had a infant weighing 4lb 8oz – early, tiny yet healthy.
When the caregiver questioned if she wanted to hold her baby, Stephanie said “I cannot.” She was emotionless. Her pain relief did not work, her final administration of fentanyl had been administered shortly before she gave birth.
She felt unwell. Not ready for motherhood. Undeserving.
Stephanie had attempted sobriety multiple times while expecting, and felt awful each time she failed. She felt hopeless, blaming herself for not being able to achieve the unattainable. An OBGYN told her to “just” stop using. Even her source would not provide to her when she became clearly expecting.
“But I couldn’t,” she said. “I required assistance.”
The widespread belief that her love for her baby would make her recover only led to deeper self-loathing and negative self-talk, a impetus for her to return to drugs. Yet she could not simply will her addiction away, any more than she could eliminate a long-term illness.
The baby was taken to the special care nursery. When Stephanie at last met her, she was attached to tubes and leads, so little she thought she would hurt her. Holding her for the first time, she felt nothing. “I gazed upon 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 the same as her nurse, after the nurse who had been so kind to her.
Hospital staff told her about Maddie’s Place, a innovative treatment home where parents and infants affected by substance use are supported as a unit, not apart.
In many parts of America, where a baby is diagnosed with infant withdrawal condition every 18 minutes, infants are still whisked to NICUs and treated with pharmaceuticals while their mothers face child-protection investigations. But a developing system of centers like Maddie’s Place 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 period to find strength to call, but she eventually made the call. After ensuring she qualified for the program, a couple of employees came to bring her to the facility.
She stepped out of the hospital still in withdrawal, anxious and doubtful about what would happen next.
At the care center, Stephanie still worried that CPS would come remove her daughter – even though she was uncertain about motherhood. The fear lingered: that at any point, someone could walk in and remove her child.
For the first two weeks, Stephanie remained isolated. “I avoided interaction,” she said. “I was suspicious at that point.”
Survival outdoors, she said, was about survival. Substances came first; faith came last.
Stephanie had one close friend, but even that relationship was delicate. The individuals she cared for always found ways to hurt her. She lacked the ability to care for herself, not to mention anyone else.
Daily, staff from the center took her to a recovery program, given as medication. Gradually, she was starting to get clean.
She utilized each moment beyond therapy with Izzie, and could see that her baby was receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her daughter struggled with eating at first, with intolerance to some formulas and pronounced gastrointestinal issues. She needed dietary support. She also had heightened sensory issues and required an specialist – all common issues for babies born with NAS.
When a child recognizes these infants need affection, then I found the strength. I could parent.
One afternoon before Thanksgiving, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where parents in active addiction can come for supervised visits with their babies. Katie Bunch-Smith, a peer support specialist, visited with her own family in tow to bring treats. They all crowded near Stephanie, who was sitting on the floor holding Izzie.
The kids looked amazed in awe of the small baby in Stephanie’s arms. “They showed no judgment,” Stephanie said. “My past did not matter to them. None of those things mattered to them.”
She keeps a photo of the moment. She is clad 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 head is tilted forward so you cannot see her face. She is lifting the baby on her lap for the young ones to see and they are gathered around, admiring and touching to the baby.
A young boy, eight, asked the mothers: “Where are all the dads?” The moms tried to explain that the men were occupied, handling responsibilities, that they would be there if they could.
“Once I become a parent,” Jacob said, “I will excel as a father. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and her companion made eye contact. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that infants need affection, then I found the courage. I could parent.”
Tools for treating babies with exposure have existed for decades.
The assessment tool was developed in 1975|
