Written by Simone Weichselbaum



Two guards stood outside the bathroom door, waiting as

Brittany Seaver sat in a tub, naked and crying, hoping the warm water would

ease the pain of childbirth. She had waited until her second hour of labor

before asking a nurse to draw the bath, her preferred alternative to epidural

drugs. Up until that moment, the two corrections officers, both women, had been

silently observing Seaver from the end of the hospital bed as she gritted her

teeth through each contraction.

It wasn’t their job to engage or offer assistance; they were

solely there to make sure the 21-year-old prisoner wouldn’t try to escape. “I

was sitting in the bathtub by myself, having labor by myself,” Seaver said.

Seaver had two other children, but during this delivery, a

few months into a five-year sentence for burglary in Minnesota's only correctional facility for women, she was both

intensely watched and eerily alone. She repeatedly asked to see her

prison-appointed doula, Rae Baker, who is authorized to provide physical and

emotional support — but no medical help — during and after childbirth.

Finally, three hours after Seaver’s initial request, the

night watch commander of Minnesota Correctional Facility in Shakopee called Baker

to tell her that Seaver was close to delivering at a nearby hospital. The

commander reminded Baker that inmates are only allowed to have their birthing

coach during the final stages of delivery. Baker already knew the rules.

At any given time, of the roughly 98,000 female inmates in state institutions, an estimated one in 25 reported that they were pregnant when admitted. A handful of

correctional facilities across the country, in places such as California,

Massachusetts, and Florida, have allowed the use of doulas, but Minnesota is

the only place to implement the policy statewide.

When Baker arrived, Seaver was back in her hospital bed,

writhing in pain. State protocol dictates that doulas can touch inmates during

childbirth and up to three hours after delivery. So, while she could, Baker

tried to provide physical comfort, holding Seaver’s hand, stroking her arm,

rubbing her back, feeding her ice chips, and occasionally blotting her forehead

with a cold towel.

She also offered Seaver a crucial piece of advice that she

gives to all inmates during childbirth: Don’t look at the guards. “Focus on

having a healthy baby,” Baker said. “Just remember, your situation is not

forever.”

Nearly an hour after Baker arrived and as the sun began to rise,

the baby was ready to come. A nurse asked the prison guards to retreat to a

back wall to make way for the doctor. Seaver inched forward in the hospital bed

to push. The doctor told her to reach down and pull out her baby girl.

Baker cut the cord. Then, the hard part began.