A Pregnant Woman's Battle with Fentanyl Addiction: Choosing Motherhood Rescued Both Lives.

Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, Stephanie Rosell went to the medical facility after a serious infection started to spread up her legs. Without a job or home, estranged from her family, she resided in a small structure she had assembled in a acquaintance's garden. She was also dependent on fentanyl.

As medical staff managed her infection, she started to feel anxious. The onset of withdrawal began. She slumped forward and vomited.

Stephanie finally broke down. “I need to leave. I have to go home and take a hit.”

She had taken the drug before arriving at the hospital and had just enough time to get treated before she was compelled to leave to get high again. She thought she still had several weeks to plan her recovery and give birth.

The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was not going anywhere.

“I will go,” Stephanie said.

But the medical facility declined to release her: the leg infection was serious, but doctors had discovered she also had an ruptured membrane. The nurse, a caregiver named Izzie, warned her: if she walked out, she and her baby would be at risk of death.

She encouraged the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl periodically, knowing that abstinence might harm her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be switched to methadone, a treatment that reduces symptoms and is frequently utilized in substance abuse treatment.

A short time later, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie gave birth to a daughter weighing 4lb 8oz – early, little but surviving.

When the attendant inquired if she wanted to embrace her child, Stephanie said “not now.” She was numb. Her epidural had failed, her previous intake of fentanyl had been given a few hours prior to birth.

She felt sick. Not ready for motherhood. Unworthy.

Stephanie had sought recovery multiple times while expecting, and felt terrible each time she was unsuccessful. She felt without value, criticizing herself for not being able to do the impossible. An doctor told her to “just” stop using. Even her source refused to sell to her when she became obviously with child.

“Yet I was unable,” she said. “I had to seek support.”

The widespread belief that her love for her baby would make her stop using only led to increased guilt and self-harm, a cause for her to use again. Yet she could not simply will her addiction away, any more than she could eliminate a chronic disease.

The newborn was transferred to the NICU. When Stephanie at last met her, she was attached to monitors, so tiny she thought she would hurt her. Holding her for the first time, she felt nothing. “I looked at her and was like, ‘How will I care for you?’” She remained uncertain she wanted to be her mother.

After two days she decided to give her child the name Izzie, after the attendant who showed compassion to her.

Hospital staff told her about a care center, a unique recovery environment where parents and infants affected by substance use are treated together, not apart.

In numerous states, where a baby is diagnosed with infant withdrawal condition every 18 minutes, infants are still whisked to NICUs and given drugs while their mothers face parental assessments. But a limited but expanding group of centers like the care home is demonstrating a key fact: when parents and infants remain united, outcomes improve, custody cases decrease and future expenses reduce.

It took Stephanie a while to gather the courage to call, but she eventually made the call. After confirming she would be a good fit for the program, care providers came to bring her to the facility.

She departed the institution still in withdrawal, fearful and unsure about what would happen next.

At the facility, Stephanie still worried that authorities would come seize her child – even though she was hesitant about parenting. The anxiety remained: that at any moment, someone could arrive 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.”

Survival outdoors, she said, was about enduring. Substances came first; reliance came last.

Stephanie had a single companion, but even that connection was tenuous. The those close to her always found ways to cause pain. She was unable to value herself, not to mention anyone else.

Daily, staff from the facility drove her to a clinic for methadone, provided orally. Over time, she was embracing sobriety.

She spent every minute 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 pronounced gastrointestinal issues. She needed dietary support. She also had heightened sensory issues and required an specialist – all common issues for babies affected by withdrawal.

Seeing that even a young person understands the need for care, then I could do this. I could be a mom.

During a pre-holiday visit, Stephanie remained in the shared space, where those still using can come for supervised visits with their babies. A support specialist, a mentor, stopped by with her own five kids in tow to drop off cookies. They all crowded near Stephanie, who was seated on the ground holding Izzie.

The young ones stared in wonder of the tiny infant in Stephanie’s arms. “They were innocent,” Stephanie said. “They overlooked my addiction. None of those things mattered to them.”

She holds a picture of the moment. She is clad in dark trousers and a sweatshirt, a gray knit hat with a bobble on her head, seated on the ground with the exit nearby. She is thin. Her face is downcast so you cannot see her face. She is holding Izzie up on her leg for the children to see and they are crowding near, admiring and touching to the baby.

Jacob, eight, asked the mothers: “Where are all the dads?” The parents responded 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 her companion looked at each other. “I just lost it and fell apart,” Stephanie said. “When a child recognized that infants need affection, then I was able. I would become a mother.”

Tools for treating infants affected by substances have been available for years.

The assessment tool was developed in 1975|