From Prison to Parenthood

Philadelphia, PA

Days in the Life of the MOMobile Van - AKA The Scooby-Doo Mobile

By Danyell Williams, Program Manager, From Prison to Parenthood

I have to first say, I am not crazy about being called the Scooby-Doo Mobile. Yes, I am the many colors of the rainbow. Yes, I have my employer’s name tattooed on me in various places, and our number on my bumper. Okay, there is a rather large “smiley face” mini van on my hood, but the title “Scooby-Doo Mobile”… I think is a stretch. Many of us have to wear a uniform to work, and I am very proud to wear mine for Maternity Care Coalition.

See, what the correctional officer who so nicely gave me that name is not aware of is that when our clients, Mothers, see me parked from the small window of their cell or me coming up the street to visit with them and their babies, they can now feel assurance in knowing that help is here for them. Who I carry and What I carry meets the needs of what I have heard my boss call the “Invisible Population.”

*****

As I now sit in front of this beautiful mural painted by women of Riverside Correctional Facility, it’s hard for me to picture the stories I hear of locked doors every few feet, pat downs, a piece of candy stuffed inside a bra (because it’s considered contraband for staff to carry), offices with no windows, sniffing dogs, bright orange jumpers, iron shackles, women…Mothers reduced to the title of inmate. But then I hear the distant sound of guns being shot from the near by shooting range, or I see a pregnant woman (one of our clients), belly swollen in her tight orange jumpsuit, being escorted by two armed correctional officers, wrist iron shackled, as she struggles to get into the waiting ambulance to go to the hospital and have her baby. There is always something going on in this “strange world” of heartbreak and hope that reminds me of exactly where I am at.

It is 2:00 am, Althea a case manager of our program wakes me up from what I have to say is a very good dream…ahhh, there is nothing like a good tune up! As we are driving, she is drinking what appears to be a 50 oz. cup of coffee. I wonder where we are going this time of the morning. Then we pull in front of a hospital, I hear Althea call Danyell (our boss) to let her know she made it to the hospital and will call her when Cathy has her baby. I then remember seeing Cathy get into an ambulance a few hours ago.

As I watch the sun come up and warm my body I think about Althea and Cathy. I think about what it must be like to give birth among correctional officers, iron shackles, and the stigma that you are a criminal and therefore not worthy to bring a child into this world. To have your baby taken away from you in 1-3 days, not knowing when you will see your child again. Several hours have now passed and I see Althea’s signature “curly afro” slowly approaching me. I am instantly concerned because I hear her soft cries as she gets behind my wheel. She sits and cries what seems like an eternity until her phone rings. It’s Danyell, I hear her say “no you don’t need to come, Cathy is finally asleep and I am on my way home.”

She then goes on to tell Danyell how Cathy’s baby was born with his intestines outside of his belly, and that his head, arms and legs were not fully developed. The doctors told Cathy that the baby would live no longer than 9 hours. Althea said that she called Cathy’s husband and that he was on his way to the hospital. She said he would not be allowed to speak with or see Cathy, but could spend time with his son before he passed. Cathy is being treated like a prisoner instead of a woman who has lost her precious baby. Althea hung up the phone and began to cry again. As she clicked on my seatbelt I made sure I was a little more snug than usual.

*****

It is 10:00 am on another day, my back door swiftly opens. It is Danyell fussing AGAIN about how cluttered I am. Personally, I see me as organized chaos which works for me. It has been a very hectic two weeks. We have had 7 births during this time, and I am filled with diapers, milk, baby clothes, toys, cribs/pac-n-plays, and even clothes for moms to be. This is MOMobile! This is what we do! Danyell needs to relax.

Someone I have never seen before gets behind my wheel. I hear Danyell call her Hannah. Hannah just started and is going on her first home visit. She is our program’s Caregiver Advocate. She is going to visit the Caregiver for one of our babies whose mother is still in Riverside Correctional Facility. Vilma, another one of our case managers, has been working with the mother and learned about some of the Caregiver’s needs. Hannah is dropping off a pac-n-play, milk, and diapers to get the Caregiver started in the right direction.

I mostly enjoy going on home visits, it is one of my primary job responsibilities. Home visits also get me away from the geese and cats who think they own the prison parking lot. I have experienced the good and the bad during these visits with my colleagues.

Some of the “good” are: Seeing our client’s children eyes get sooo big, looking at ALL of my wonderful colors (Go Scooby-Doo!). Providing Mom a place to catch her breath and freely talk about whatever she wants without interruption: even if that place is in my back seat. Seeing the relief on Mom’s face as we bring a crib for her baby and knowing that she does not have to put her baby in danger by co-sleeping.

Some of the “bad” are: Being spit on by a neighbor of one of our clients “just cause.” Watching people sell drugs, while our clients’ children play in the street. Seeing case managers knock on clients’ doors, only to have someone peep out the window but not answer. Despite the ups and downs and challenges of my job, I have been blessed to play a part in women transforming their lives from inmate to mother to mommy.

In our program’s curriculum on child development, the staff talks in detail with our clients about the impact of consistency in a child’s life. Thinking about our clients and what success looks like in our program; I realize it’s that consistency of support the clients of the MOMobile program receive from me and my colleagues, that allows for such transformations to occur.

I guess it doesn’t matter what they call me: Scooby-Doo or The MOMobile Van. What’s important is that the women recognize me as more than a van. I bring hope for a better future with their baby when they get home and restart their lives in the community.