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How I Got This Baby: Giving Birth While in Prison

STYLE

HOW I GOT THIS BABY

SELF

C U LT U R E

FEB. 21, 2025

The Mom Who Gave Birth While Incarcerated As told to Stephanie Booth

Illustration: Palesa Monareng

Because no two paths to parenthood look the same, “How I Got This Baby” is a series that invites parents to share their stories.

The darkest time in Vivian’s life began in 2014. After learning that her husband of two years had cheated on her, the teacher separated from him — and spiraled into depression. “I didn’t know how to mentally handle what was going on, and ended up turning to substance use as a way to self-medicate,” she says.

The Xanax she’d been prescribed for back pain gave way to Oxycontin, cocaine, meth, and heroin. By 2017, Vivian was serving two years in prison for drug possession.

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POWER

How I Got This Baby: Giving Birth While in Prison

After her release, she got a job in a factory, folding toothpaste boxes. But staying sober felt impossible. “I didn’t have a good place to live and was around the wrong people,” she says. In 2020, her roommate abruptly moved out, leaving Vivian scrambling for rent money. When an acquaintance messaged her on Facebook, asking for help bringing them some meth, she saw an opportunity to make some much-needed cash.

An undercover cop was waiting when Vivian showed up with the drugs, and she was arrested. After bonding out, she was arrested again two days later; this time, police officers found meth, along with a gun, in the car Vivian and her friends were driving.

During the booking process in the county jail, Vivian was given a routine pregnancy test. “I had just turned 33,” says Vivian. “I didn’t even think I could have kids anymore.” She was shocked when the result was positive.

“I was excited to become a mom,” says Vivian. “I helped raise my brother and sister, so I had a lot of experience. But I also felt hopeless. I faced a minimum sentence of five years. Who was going to take care of my baby?”

Vivian recounts what happened next.

On finding out she was pregnant I was still sitting in the booking area of the county jail when they told me. Immediately, I had a lot of anxiety about the child not knowing me. But I didn’t think about any other alternative than having the baby. Heck no. Absolutely not.

I was 95 percent sure the father was one guy I was living with, but I couldn’t be 100 percent sure. I called him to say I was pregnant, but that it might not be his. It was very sad. We had just started saying “I love you.” So I felt very embarrassed. He was upset.

That night, I slept in a holding cell on a hard, cold cement bench. In the morning, after I was denied bond, they moved me into a dorm of cells.

On the first months of her pregnancy For the next three months, I waited for a decision on my final sentencing. I was depressed

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How I Got This Baby: Giving Birth While in Prison and I cried a lot. I played cards and watched the news about the spread of COVID-19. We weren’t allowed to go outside, but there was a “yard” — a room that had a little natural sunlight and fresh air coming in from the grates at the top of the wall.

Because I was pregnant, I was given additional milk and graham crackers, apples, oranges, and bananas. Pregnant girls also got lunch like bologna or peanut butter. Other inmates only ate twice a day, no lunch provided. And every month, they took me to see an OB/GYN.

After three months, I learned that my lawyer had gotten me six years in prison and 15 years of probation. I knew I might get parole and not do the whole six, but I still had to decide where to send my baby. I spent a lot of time thinking, Who’s gonna best take care of them?

Who will make sure that I get to see them? Who will take good pictures while I’m not there?

Who will be the best, mentally, to raise my child?

Different relatives wanted my baby, but I finally decided on my best friend. She was trustworthy, kind, and was a mom too, although her kids were pretty much grown and lived with their dad. I wanted my baby to be part of everybody’s lives, and she got along with everyone in my family.

On being transferred to “pregnant prison” I was four months pregnant by the time I was transferred to “pregnant prison,” a facility just for pregnant people. They did an ultrasound when I first arrived, so I was able to see I was having a girl. Years ago, I’d dreamt that I would have one, so I was kind of like, “Yeah, that’s what I figured.” But it also was a moment where I suddenly realized that the pregnancy was real.

Most of the girls were real pregnant when they got there, so they didn’t stay long. My roommate had kids already, but she didn’t give me much advice. Sometimes we talked about baby names, but mostly, we played Scrabble and watched Wheel of Fortune.

I read a lot. I like to experience other places in the world, so I read old books written in the 1890s or 1920s and set in Borneo, India, and China. I read books about world religions.

And, of course, I read baby stuff. I really wanted to have an all-natural birth.

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How I Got This Baby: Giving Birth While in Prison

Once a week, we had a parenting class. And I taught myself how to crochet.

They had a doctor in the prison, but all he did was measure your belly, and listen to the baby’s heartbeat, and that’s all you’re gonna get, every visit. The only way they take you anywhere is if you’re a high-risk pregnancy or there’s some kind of problem. I didn’t have any pregnancy difficulties, but my dad has hemochromatosis, which is too much iron in the blood, and they accidentally wrote down that I had it.

That, and the fact that I was a little older, got me marked as high-risk, which meant I got to see a doctor outside the prison and get an ultrasound with a picture of the baby I could keep.

On giving birth My daughter was a week late, so they decided to induce me. They took me to the prison hospital where there’s one guard in the room and one outside the door. The one outside had a gun.

Then, they induced my labor. It was 31 hours. When the pain was really intense, I didn’t have anything to help me mentally, not even music. I was alone and didn’t have anyone to hold my hand.

The epidural they gave me didn’t work, and the anesthesiologist didn’t believe me when I said I needed a second one. She wasn’t gonna do anything, but one of the other doctors ordered her to give it to me. When my daughter’s heart rate was dropping and I wasn’t dilating as much as I should have been, they did an emergency C-section.

On meeting her daughter — and saying good-bye They set my daughter on my shoulder so I could see her face, and she looked like Nala, the little lion baby in The Lion King. I got to breastfeed for an hour or so. She was kept in another room overnight.

The next day, I got to hold her for about an hour and a half in the morning and again in the

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How I Got This Baby: Giving Birth While in Prison evening. A nonprofit called Motherhood Beyond Bars left a Polaroid camera so one of the nurses could take a picture of me holding my baby. That’s what I really wanted — a picture — because I knew I was going to say good-bye.

I had my daughter on a Tuesday, and by Thursday morning, I was really sick. I was trying to hold her and breastfeed, but I was in too much pain. The nurses were covering me up with three blankets and knew I was having sweats and chills.

I gave my daughter a kiss and handed her back to the nurse. And then all of a sudden, I was being taken to a different prison.

On nearly dying from postpartum complications I wasn’t shackled while I had my baby, but they shackled my ankles before they put me in the wheelchair to take me out of the hospital. As they rolled me out, I told the officer, “I shouldn’t be leaving right now. I’m real sick.” But another girl had just had her baby, too, and they didn’t want to make two trips to come get me another day.

They transferred me from the prison hospital to another state prison. I was sitting in a cell in the infirmary and had none of my stuff, none of my clothes, and they wouldn’t give me any. One girl had to wear her same bloody underwear for three days. They didn’t even give you a bar of soap.

I couldn’t even call to make sure my daughter had gotten picked up from the hospital.

I felt so sick. I was banging on the glass windows, begging for a nurse to help me. I was in severe pain and couldn’t sleep lying down. One nurse told me that she’d had a C-section before and I was being a baby about it.

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How I Got This Baby: Giving Birth While in Prison

Not until six days later, when I started throwing up, did they realize my white blood cell count was sky-high. The infirmary staff worried I wasn’t going to make it to the nearest hospital. Still, they put shackles on me and had me crawl into the prison van on my hands and knees.

I had sepsis, so I was taken by ambulance to a larger hospital, where I stayed for two weeks.

Even after I went back to prison, I could hardly breathe or move. It took another trip to the hospital before they realized I needed fluid drained from my lung. I had so much that it had been crushed to the size of a fist.

Meanwhile, a hole from my C-section was still draining. I kept telling the doctor, “I’m going to have a second belly button. This is not normal. There’s something wrong.” It wasn’t until a month later that he cauterized it.

The way you’re treated as a prisoner is so different than if you’re free. No one cares about you, and no one believes you.

On getting support for her daughter I couldn’t have visitors at the prison because of COVID, but my best friend gave me weekly updates about my daughter over the phone. Motherhood Beyond Bars helped make sure that she had whatever she needed in terms of things like formula and diapers. They visited her for me and made sure she was okay. They also mailed me pictures and paid for phone calls and video visits between us. Seeing her made me so happy. I felt like I had a purpose again.

Two of the men I’d been seeing when I got pregnant took DNA tests and learned they weren’t the father. When I asked my ex to take one, he said, “Yeah,” but never did. He also never went to see my baby, although he had opportunities. We pretty much quit talking. I didn’t want financial support. I just wanted my daughter to know her father.

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How I Got This Baby: Giving Birth While in Prison

On her daughter receiving a shocking diagnosis When my daughter was 15 months old, her pediatrician started worrying because she wasn’t gaining weight. Family Services got involved and sent her to live with my dad, who took her to another doctor. This one noticed her left eye was shaking. An MRI found that she had a rare form of brain cancer, so she had to start chemotherapy.

My dad and stepmom told me I was a bad mother and I’d be lucky if I ever got her back.

They sent me pictures of my baby, screaming and crying. And I had other family members who told me I’d made bad choices. Sometimes, I would put my back against the wall, wrap my arms around myself, and just hug myself tightly.

On reuniting with her daughter I stayed on good behavior and didn’t get written up. So 15 months before my planned release — when my daughter was 2 years old — I was allowed to move into the Transition Center next to the prison. It was a very strict place where if you got into any trouble, additional time was added to your sentence. But I was allowed to have a cell phone, so video chats with my daughter were a lot easier.

Family Services had placed my baby with a foster family, and it turned out to be the best place she could have been. They were loving and supportive, not just of my baby, but me.

I started seeing a psychologist who had so much compassion for me. She even got me the cutest little squishy because she knew I needed one to hold. I was having a lot of spiritual thoughts at the time, and I feel like our sessions were mostly me explaining to her how I was changing for the better.

When my daughter was 3, I was allowed to go to the hospital for one of her doctor appointments. And she knew me! I just kept kissing the palms of her hands, and she would giggle. She would take them back, and then put them back out, and I would kiss her. She knew who I was.

On fighting to get custody of her daughter In February 2024, I was released from prison. Some of my family members were negative, saying, “Oh, you’re never getting your daughter back.” But I had motivation. I had a job. I

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How I Got This Baby: Giving Birth While in Prison had money saved up. And I felt mentally prepared to deal with anything that might come my way.

Immediately, I did everything I could to get my daughter. Family Services said that I was the best parent they’ve ever had on their caseload. Everything they wanted, anything they asked — like taking a parenting class, getting my house ready, weekly drug tests — I did.

In June, I got temporary custody. And in September, I got full custody.

On raising her daughter today She’s 4 now and still in treatment for cancer, but things are looking good. I take her to tons of doctor appointments. I wake up at 3:30 in the morning to give medicine to her. I spend a lot of extra money on vitamins and supplements. And I’m heavily focused on her nutrition.

She eats pasta with salmon, mushrooms and peas, and I put broccoli sprouts on her pizza.

She says, “I eat my veggies for my mommy.”

I want to do so much more for her, but I’m tired sometimes when I come home from work. I don’t have a husband, so it’s not like I can say, “Can you help give her a bath?” I have to do it all. I love it, but it is a full-time thing.

She is so gorgeous, you know? It’s fun to have a daughter who is just so exuberant. She’s the female version of the Boss Baby and makes everybody laugh. She lights up a room, no matter where she goes. I love just hugging her and hearing her say, “I love you.” She loves me a lot.

Sometimes I see myself in her.

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