“What time is it?” 

“6:35”
“What time is it?” 

“6:40.” 

“What time is it?” 

“6:45.” 

It’s Thursday, June 9, 2011. Here I am at Nassau County Correctional Facility, nine months pregnant, 2 cm dilated and four days away from my due date. 

“Why do you keep asking the time?” Kera asks me. 

“Because I think I’m having contractions.” 

“What do you mean you THINK?!” she says with emphasis on the “think.” 

“I’m feeling pressure and tightness, it goes away and then comes back, I’m tryna time it.” 

“Well you keep asking the time every 5 minutes, yes its contractions.” 

“Oh,” I say. 

Next thing I know the whole dorm starts going crazy. 

“She’s going into labor! The baby’s coming. Officer! Officer! It’s time!” the inmates are screaming…“I’ma call your mom and Justin and let them know you’re going into labor.” 

Unfortunately, neither of them will be allowed to see me or be in the delivery room for the birth. In fact, I won’t be allowed to contact anyone till after the baby is born.

[…]

I didn’t get to the hospital until after eight dealing with these simple motherfuckers. By then my contractions were three minutes apart. After being rushed through the hospital hallways, handcuffed, escorted by two officers and the public looking on, I was hooked up to some machine that monitored my contractions as well as the baby’s heartbeat. I was bum- rushed with more questions and papers needing my signature.

After answering the questions, signing the papers, and two hours later the doctor approaches me.

“Ms. Irby we are gonna need you to walk around for a while to induce your labor.”

“Um, okay,” I reply. Truth is I wasn’t looking forward to walking around the maternity ward handcuffed and shackled, I guess Kylie wasn’t either.