The Unfair and Unethical State of Pregnancy Incarcerated: To Mothers and Children Alike

by Lauren Boyer

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Dehumanization is rarely contained. Once the standards begin to slip, the consequences soon shatter, and weeks later, shards can still be found fragmented on the floor. 

So lie the repercussions of incarceration. Beyond the racial and economic inequalities that the justice system perpetuates, there is also a painful intersection between the rights of women and their unborn children. 

Most incarcerated women are at a fertile age. Not only is there emotional tragedy in the loss of the fertility years of many hopeful mothers, but when women come into prison impregnated, the challenges that face them and their innocent children push past “unethical”. 

The neglect of Linda Acoff at Cuyahoga County Jail, where she was denied crucial medical treatment before and during the stillbirth of her child, is exemplary of the particular way society’s view of prisoners harms women and their children. Her story of medical abandonment foreshadows the death by neglect of a male prisoner at the jail two days later and hints at the treatment faced by the 305 other pregnant prisoners at the facility. The data regarding pregnant inmates is often nonexistent or unclear, but it’s unlikely that the nurse-provided Tylenol made a difference to the pain Acoff felt while laboring, or to the sixteen other incarcerated women who made it far enough along to give birth. 

By virtue of a poorly-timed pregnancy, women and their children can be subject to additional maltreatment at the hands of the prison. This pain extends far beyond the punishment the mother was originally sentenced to serve. The state of prison conditions is so terrible that an analysis graded the treatment of pregnant women and their children a D or F in 21 states. The highest grading was an A- in Pennsylvania. As an estimated 55,000 women enter jail each year, not enough are offered a pregnancy test. 

Late pregnancy recognition is just one of many health challenges incarcerated mothers face. The mother’s lack of control over her lifestyle can pile poor nutrition, stress, and sleep deprivation on top of other factors that may put the wellbeing of her child at risk, such as genetic factors and prior substance use. Without proper medication and prenatal care, women and their children are denied their right to medical assistance. Separation from family members and friends can also promote stress in the prenatal period, which is tied to the physical health of the baby, including preterm delivery and a lower birth weight.

Apart from prenatal encumbrances, the delivery of the child is also made unsafe by the unnecessary shackling of the mother. Despite statistics reminding lawmakers that most pregnant prisoners are not incarcerated for violent crimes — and there is no record of any attempted escapes amidst unshackled mothers in labor — only 22 states restrict the practice of shackling mothers as they give birth. 

For those children who make it past these tribulations and survive birth, it is just the beginning of a childhood of emotional devastation, whose ramifications may linger like broken glass in a carpet. 

Beginning with the benefits of breastfeeding, children with an incarcerated mother are disadvantaged due to distance and privacy issues. Women are more likely to be incarcerated farther from their children because there are fewer women’s prisons. Many women who have experienced sexual abuse in the past may also face challenges breastfeeding in front of corrections officers, as it may trigger past trauma and further feelings of powerlessness. 

However, to remove breastfeeding is to remove its benefits to the child’s development and to the mother’s rehabilitation. If parenthood encourages selflessness, it puts prisoners in a state of mind more inclined to obey the law. By breaking the connection between a mother and her breastfeeding child, the state removes a powerful motivator for change and positive growth. Yet, breastfeeding is not the only way the state threatens to steal a mother’s right to her child.

The parenthood of incarcerated mothers must outrun the looming shadow of the courts who threaten to replace the mother’s custody with that of another, or to place the child in foster care — all without her consent. The scope of this threat reigns wide. Over 2% of children in the U.S. have a parent in prison. 75% of incarcerated women in America have offspring who are minors. Comparatively, many men escape this sad situation unscathed, to the detriment of women. While most incarcerated mothers communicate with their children regularly, the father is likely to play a lesser role. Children are more likely to be handed over to a grandmother’s custody than a father’s (where less than a third end up). 

Separation of the child from the mother is linked to more anxiety and depressive behavioral issues in early childhood when compared to remaining incarcerated with the mother. By taking their children, the state not only stalls the rehabilitation of mothers, but it encourages the children to follow suit. 

Despite the nonviolence of most incarcerated mothers, the benefit of their emotional connection to their child, and the responsibility they have already undertaken to parent them under separation, women and children alike are deeply punished with separation uncommon worldwide and extensive beyond the years sentenced. 

The United States is one of four nations that routinely separate incarcerated women and their newborn children. Many other countries notorious for their human rights violations stand above us in this matter. Hopefully, someday soon our lawmakers will pay enough attention to remedy this injustice.