She Was Pregnant and Addicted to Fentanyl: How Keeping Her Baby Rescued Both Lives.
Pregnant and experiencing intense discomfort, Stephanie Rosell went to the medical facility after an infection began spreading up her legs. Unemployed and homeless, estranged from her family, she lived in a shed she had built in a friend’s yard. She was also hooked on fentanyl.
As doctors treated her infection, she started to feel anxious. The onset of withdrawal began. She bent over the bedside and became sick.
Stephanie ultimately gave in. “Listen, I gotta go. I have to go home and use drugs.”
She had consumed opioids before arriving at the hospital and had sufficient opportunity to get treated before she needed to go home to get high again. She thought she still had a month remaining to figure out how to get clean and give birth.
The nurse had other ideas. She told Stephanie she was staying put.
“I will go,” Stephanie said.
But the medical facility declined to release her: the condition in her limbs was critical, but medical staff detected she also had an amniotic fluid leak. The nurse, Izzie, warned her: if she left, she and her baby would be at risk of death.
The nurse convinced the doctor to give Stephanie measured quantities of fentanyl at regular intervals, knowing that withdrawal could endanger her and the baby. After delivery Stephanie would be transitioned to methadone, a drug that alleviates cravings and is frequently utilized in rehabilitation.
After five days, on 12 November 2022, Stephanie had a infant weighing 4lb 8oz – born before term, small but alive.
When the caregiver questioned if she wanted to hold her baby, Stephanie said “no.” She was emotionless. Her epidural had failed, her final administration of fentanyl had been administered a few hours prior to birth.
She felt ill. Not ready for motherhood. Undeserving.
Stephanie had tried to get clean several times during pregnancy, and felt horrible each time she relapsed. She felt without value, blaming herself for not being able to overcome the challenge. An OBGYN told her to “only” stop using. Even her supplier refused to sell to her when she became clearly expecting.
“However, I failed,” she said. “I needed help.”
The common assumption that her bond with her newborn would make her stop using only led to deeper self-loathing and negative self-talk, a cause for her to return to drugs. Yet she could not simply will her addiction away, any more than she could eliminate a chronic disease.
The infant was moved to the neonatal intensive care unit. When Stephanie eventually visited her, she was connected to tubes and leads, so small she thought she would harm her. Embracing her at last, she felt nothing. “I gazed upon her and was like, ‘How will I care for you?’” She continued to doubt she wanted to be her mother.
After two days she decided to name her baby the same as her nurse, after the professional who provided support to her.
Nurses and doctors told her about a specialized facility, a innovative treatment home where mothers and their drug-exposed newborns are supported as a unit, not apart.
In numerous states, where a baby is identified with neonatal abstinence syndrome (NAS) frequently, infants are still rushed to special care and given drugs while their mothers face child-protection investigations. But a limited but expanding group of centers like this facility is proving a simple point: when families are kept intact, recovery succeeds, custody cases decrease and overall savings increase.
It took Stephanie a period to find strength to call, but she eventually made the call. After confirming she would be a good fit for the program, two staff members came to collect her.
She stepped out of the hospital still in detox, fearful and unsure about what would come next.
At the facility, Stephanie still worried that CPS would come take Izzie – even though she was not sure she wanted to keep her. The fear lingered: that at any point, someone could enter and remove her child.
For the first two weeks, Stephanie kept to herself. “I didn’t really want anything to do with any of them,” she said. “I lacked confidence at that point.”
Homelessness, she said, was about getting by. Drugs 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 lacked the ability to value herself, much less anyone else.
Daily, staff from the facility transported her to a recovery program, given as medication. Over time, she was beginning recovery.
She utilized each moment when not in sessions with Izzie, and could see that her baby was receiving appropriate attention she needed. Her infant faced feeding challenges at first, with sensitivity to certain foods and obvious stomach troubles. She needed dietary support. She also had sensory challenges and required an specialist – all typical problems for babies affected by withdrawal.
When a child recognizes these infants need affection, then I could do this. I could parent.
On a day prior to the holiday, Stephanie sat in the visitation area, where parents in active addiction can come for supervised visits with their babies. A support specialist, a recovery coach, stopped by with her own family in tow to drop off cookies. They all crowded near Stephanie, who was sitting on the floor holding Izzie.
The children were wide-eyed in awe of the small baby in Stephanie’s arms. “They had no care in the world,” Stephanie said. “They didn’t care that I had used drugs with her. None of those things mattered to them.”
She holds a picture of the moment. She is wearing casual attire, a cap with a bobble on her head, resting on the floor with the door behind her. She is slender. Her head is tilted forward so you miss her features. She is lifting the baby on her lap for the young ones to see and they are standing close, admiring and touching to the baby.
A young boy, eight, asked the parents: “Where are all the dads?” The women attempted to clarify that the fathers had obligations, handling responsibilities, that they would be there given the chance.
“When I have kids,” Jacob said, “I’m going to be the best dad ever. I’m gonna show them that they deserve to be loved.”
Stephanie and her companion looked at each other. “I broke down,” Stephanie said. “If this little kid could see that newborns require care, then I could do this. I could be a mom.”
Tools for treating babies with exposure have existed for decades.
The evaluation method was developed in 1975|
