She Was Pregnant and Addicted to Fentanyl: How Keeping Her Baby Saved Them Both.
In her eighth month of pregnancy and suffering, Stephanie Rosell arrived at the medical facility after a serious infection started to spread up her legs. Without a job or home, estranged from her family, she stayed in a makeshift shelter she had built in a acquaintance's garden. She was also hooked on fentanyl.
As doctors treated her infection, she began to panic. The onset of withdrawal began. She slumped forward and vomited.
Stephanie eventually collapsed. “Listen, I gotta go. I have to go home and get high.”
She had used fentanyl before arriving at the hospital and had just enough time to get treated before she needed to go home to get high again. She thought she still had several weeks to find a way to become sober and deliver her child.
The medical professional intervened. She told Stephanie she was staying put.
“I am leaving,” Stephanie said.
But the hospital refused to discharge her: the condition in her limbs was severe, but physicians found she also had an leakage of amniotic fluid. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she walked out, she and her baby would not survive.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl periodically, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be placed on methadone, a medication that eases withdrawal and is commonly used in addiction recovery.
Five days later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie delivered a baby girl weighing just over four pounds – born before term, tiny yet healthy.
When the caregiver questioned if she wanted to cuddle her newborn, Stephanie said “no.” She was numb. Her pain relief did not work, her final administration of fentanyl had been provided shortly before she gave birth.
She felt ill. Unprepared to be a mother. Undeserving.
Stephanie had tried to get clean repeatedly before birth, and felt awful each time she relapsed. She felt without value, criticizing herself for not being able to do the impossible. An OBGYN told her to “simply” stop using. Even her supplier refused to sell to her when she became clearly expecting.
“But I couldn’t,” she said. “I had to seek support.”
The pervasive expectation that her love for her baby would make her stop using only led to increased guilt and self-harm, a trigger for her to relapse. Yet she could not just wish her addiction away, any more than she could eliminate a persistent condition.
The infant was moved to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie finally saw her her, she was attached to monitors, so tiny she thought she would break her. Embracing her at last, she felt detached. “I just stared at her and was like, ‘How will I care for you?’” She continued to doubt she wanted to be her mother.
Two days later she decided to give her child the name Izzie, after the professional who provided support to her.
Hospital staff told her about a specialized facility, a unique recovery environment where women and their babies are treated together, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is found to have newborn addiction symptoms frequently, 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, outcomes improve, fewer children enter care and future expenses reduce.
It took Stephanie some time to build confidence to call, but she eventually made the call. After ensuring she qualified for the program, two staff members came to pick her up.
She departed the institution still in recovery, fearful and unsure about what would follow.
At the care center, Stephanie still feared that CPS would come seize her child – even though she was hesitant about parenting. The concern persisted: that at any time, someone could walk in and remove her child.
For the first two weeks, Stephanie stayed withdrawn. “I avoided interaction,” she said. “I didn’t have a lot of trust at that point.”
Homelessness, she said, was about getting by. Addiction came first; trust came last.
Stephanie had a trusted ally, but even that bond was fragile. The those close to her always found ways to let her down. She did not know how to care for herself, much less anyone else.
Every day, staff from the facility took her to a clinic for methadone, given as medication. Gradually, she was beginning recovery.
She spent every minute beyond therapy with Izzie, and could see that her baby was receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her daughter struggled with eating at first, with adverse reactions to milk and severe digestive problems. She needed feeding therapy. She also had sensory challenges and required an specialist – all common issues for babies affected by withdrawal.
When a child recognizes these infants need affection, then I found the strength. I could be a mom.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie was in the common room, where individuals struggling with substance use can come for supervised visits with their babies. An advocate, a recovery coach, stopped by with her own family in tow to drop off cookies. They all crowded near Stephanie, who was resting on the carpet holding Izzie.
The kids looked amazed in admiration of the little newborn in Stephanie’s arms. “They had no care in the world,” Stephanie said. “My past did not matter to them. Such issues were irrelevant.”
She keeps a photo of the moment. She is clad in black pants and a hoodie, a cap with a decoration on her head, sitting on the wooden floor with the door behind her. She is slender. Her face is downcast so you cannot see her face. She is holding Izzie up on her knee for the other kids to see and they are crowding near, showing interest to the baby.
Jacob, eight, asked the mothers: “What about the fathers?” The moms tried to explain that the men were occupied, engaged elsewhere, that they would be there given the chance.
“In the future,” Jacob said, “I plan to be a great parent. I will teach them about love.”
Stephanie and the specialist made eye contact. “I just lost it and fell apart,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that these babies deserve to be loved, then I could do this. I would become a mother.”
Methods to address babies with exposure have been used for a long time.
The evaluation method was developed in 1975|
