Fentanyl Addiction During Pregnancy: Choosing Motherhood Rescued Both Lives.
In her eighth month of pregnancy and suffering, the expectant mother arrived at the hospital emergency room after her infection worsened up her legs. Jobless and without shelter, estranged from her family, she lived in a shed she had assembled 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 leaned over the bed and threw up.
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 had to return to get high again. She thought she still had several weeks to find a way to become sober and deliver her child.
The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was not allowed to leave.
“I will go,” Stephanie said.
But the hospital refused to discharge her: the infection in her legs was serious, but doctors had discovered she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, her nurse, warned her: if she walked out, she and her baby would face grave danger.
She encouraged the doctor to give Stephanie controlled doses of fentanyl at regular intervals, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. Post-birth Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a treatment that reduces symptoms and is frequently utilized in rehabilitation.
A short time later, on the 12th of November, Stephanie gave birth to a baby girl weighing 4lb 8oz – premature, small but alive.
When the attendant inquired if she wanted to hold her baby, Stephanie said “no.” She was emotionless. Her pain relief did not work, her final administration of fentanyl had been provided a few hours prior to birth.
She felt ill. Not ready for motherhood. Undeserving.
Stephanie had tried to get clean repeatedly before birth, and felt horrible each time she relapsed. She felt hopeless, blaming herself for not being able to achieve the unattainable. An doctor told her to “only” stop using. Even her source declined to supply to her when she became obviously with child.
“But I couldn’t,” she said. “I needed help.”
The common assumption that her affection for her child would make her stop using only led to greater shame and self-abuse, a cause for her to use again. Yet she could not easily command her addiction away, any more than she could eliminate a persistent condition.
The newborn was transferred to the NICU. When Stephanie eventually visited her, she was attached to medical equipment, so tiny she thought she would break her. Embracing her at last, she felt nothing. “I gazed upon her and was like, ‘What is our future?’” She continued to doubt she wanted to be her mother.
Following a brief period she decided to name her baby Izzie, after the attendant who showed compassion to her.
Nurses and doctors told her about a care center, a unique recovery environment where women and their babies are supported as a unit, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is identified with infant withdrawal condition regularly, infants are still whisked to NICUs and given drugs while their mothers face custody evaluations. But a developing system of centers like the care home is proving a simple point: when parents and infants remain united, results get better, fewer children enter care and future expenses reduce.
It took Stephanie a while to gather the courage to call, but she ultimately reached out. After ensuring she qualified for the program, a couple of employees came to pick her up.
She left the medical center still in detox, anxious and doubtful about what would happen next.
At Maddie’s Place, Stephanie still was concerned that CPS would come seize her child – even though she was not sure she wanted to keep her. The fear lingered: that at any time, someone could walk in and separate them.
For the initial fortnight, Stephanie kept to herself. “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.”
Survival outdoors, she said, was about enduring. Drugs came first; reliance came last.
Stephanie had a trusted ally, but even that bond was fragile. The individuals she cared for always found ways to let her down. She was unable to care for herself, much less anyone else.
Each day, staff from the center transported her to a recovery program, given as medication. Gradually, she was starting to get clean.
She devoted all her time beyond therapy with Izzie, and could see that her baby was obtaining necessary support she needed. Her girl had some trouble feeding at first, with adverse reactions to milk and obvious stomach troubles. She needed nutritional guidance. She also had heightened sensory issues and required an professional – all common issues for babies affected by withdrawal.
When a child recognizes these infants need affection, then I was capable. I would become a mother.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where individuals struggling with substance use can come for supervised visits with their babies. A support specialist, a recovery coach, visited with her own family in tow to drop off cookies. They all gathered around Stephanie, who was resting on the carpet holding Izzie.
The children were wide-eyed in admiration of the small baby in Stephanie’s arms. “They were innocent,” Stephanie said. “They didn’t care that I had used drugs with her. They focused only on the baby.”
She keeps a photo of the moment. She is wearing casual attire, a cap with a decoration on her head, resting on the floor with the exit nearby. She is slender. Her posture is humble so you do not see her expression. She is presenting her daughter on her leg for the young ones to see and they are gathered around, fawning and reaching out to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the mothers: “What about the fathers?” The moms tried to explain that the fathers had obligations, called away to other tasks, that they would be there if they could.
“In the future,” Jacob said, “I will excel as a father. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and Bunch-Smith looked at each other. “I became emotional,” Stephanie said. “Seeing that even youth understand that these babies deserve to be loved, then I was able. I could be a mom.”
Methods to address infants affected by substances have been available for years.
The evaluation method was created in 1975|
