A Common Experience

The Ordeal of Visiting

In the Visitor Center waiting area at the county jail I see sisters, girlfriends, moms, dads, and the occasional brother or friend. But what I see an overwhelming amount of is mothers with children - the wives or significant others of inmates. Many have tiny babies, or toddlers. More than one is carrying a baby, gripping the hand of a 5-8 year old, and holding a clear plastic bag in the other hand containing one or two diapers and a bottle. Diaper bags and strollers are not permitted, because they have been used to sneak in contraband goods. As is often the case, a small number of rule-breakers makes the rules more stringent for everyone.

Visiting the jail is an ordeal, but it has become so routine I don't even think about it anymore.

From start to finish, it takes about 4 hours from the time I leave the house to when I get back, and only thirty precious minutes of that is the visit itself. Going through security, waiting in numerous lines to have your identification checked, and the approximately 1-2 hour wait in the Visitor Center waiting room comprise a major part of the operation.

Most of the time, the deputies at the jail are pleasant as long as you are. I know several of them by face now, and they smile and greet me respectfully. A lot of the policies they have to enforce are an inconvenience for everyone involved, and I’ve rarely encountered a sheriff who was excited about enforcing them. For example, you have to remove all extra keys from your key ring and leave them in your car. Once I got told I had to change shirts because my “shoulders were exposed”. I was wearing a very modest tank top over my 6-month pregnant belly and sweatpants.

My biggest complaint is that the bathrooms are filthy and undersupplied. This partly comes down to the volume of women compared to men - I often see women sneaking into the mens restroom because it is cleaner. But a lot of it is simply that the facility is severely outdated - the toilet paper holders in the stalls do not hold the roll in place, which causes it to end up on the floor, half the faucets don’t work, the soap dispensers are sometimes empty, there are leaks in the plumbing and the bathrooms are clearly not cleaned more than once a day. The result is disgusting. What is most distressing to me is that this filthy bathroom is the only available place for a mom to change her baby’s diaper.

Loneliness

When I first visited Chris, I watched everything as though from outside of a bubble. I sat in that waiting room and suppressed the desire to cry as I watched the clock and listened for my husband’s name to be called over the intercom. A vague, thick sense of disbelief settled around me - “I don’t belong here” drifted in and out in various forms: “How did I end up here… Why have I found myself here? I don’t know how to do this…”

Occasionally even: “This simply could not be what God intended for me.”

I felt deeply, profoundly alone.

It is lonely, even among loving family and friends - the sense of life-shattering change, the dissonance of taking on new responsibilities and roles within my daily routine, the soul-wrenching separation from my life companion, my uncertainty about the future, my fears for my baby, my porous intake of the reactions of family and friends, not to mention the judgement and condemnation (perceived or expressed) of my husband or myself by anyone who knows our circumstances.

I see the same moms weekend after weekend. The sense of not belonging has gradually subsided - it's been replaced, not with belonging, but with acceptance and strength. We have a common experience, these other moms and I. It isn’t in the particulars of our circumstances, nor in the commonality of our husbands’ experience - our walks of life to this point are varied and distinct, and the paths that brought us here are disparate. It is simply in coming to terms with the grueling, daily process of finding your way forward under the thumb of forces beyond your control.

I no longer think “This could not be what God intended for me.” I think “this is what God intended for me, and I am strong enough to withstand it.”

Some Things I’ve Learned

If you should ever find yourself in my shoes, pregnant or with children and facing the life-altering possibilities of supporting a loved one through incarceration, here are some of the things I’ve learned so far.

1. In the beginning, take it all “one day at a time.” This was particularly vital during the first 2 months after my husband’s arrest. A lot changes very quickly - and continues to change as we await trial. But in the initial shock, the best thing I did was think intentionally about the day ahead, and then the next day, and then the next day. I still do this, about 80% of the time. As the shock has worn off, I have organically moved into the ability to think about the future, potential outcomes, and planning during the other 20%. Do not hesitate to cut yourself off at 20% - allow things to unfold, because the future may look different day to day.

2. Do not be rushed by friends and family. Helpful, loving family and friends may ask about your plans, or try to advise you about the future. This is well-intentioned, and they may even be correct, but it can be jarring in the tenderness of the moment. On more than one occasion I have quietly decided against the advice of beloved family members - or simply delayed in making any decision whatsoever. This has served me, as I have adjusted to taking in suggestions without feeling obligated to implement them.

3. Make connections. I initially asked my family not to speak to me about the case - but to please be available to talk about other things. Maintaining and nurturing those loving relationships, and having people who make you feel normal, is a blessing. It is extremely difficult to take in other peoples’ judgements or opinions about Chris’s circumstance, and it was essential to my ability to process it on my own that I asked to be allowed to be the one who initiated conversations about it. Ultimately, that was what enabled me to begin listening to them as well.

4. Find an objective ear. The best decision I made after Chris’s arrest was to seek spiritual counsel. I found a Catholic Bishop to speak to, and was able to disclose the deepest, most vulnerable fears that I was harboring - for myself, for Chris and for our baby. I was only able to do this because I trusted completely that I would be heard without judgement or condemnation.