Steps of a Federal Prison Visit

The annual trip for us to head out to visit my husband was a time of bittersweet emotions.  Just knowing that we are going to get to see him is the incentive to go through all the hoops that they require visitors to jump through.  But the anxiety and apprehension that starts days before the visit, I could easily do without. 

It is a feeling that is hard to explain unless you have had to experience it for yourself.  Even though we were only able to visit once a year the knotted stomach, the aches, the anxiety and the depression are feelings that most people share just before a prison visit.  I have friends who visit their loved ones on a regular monthly basis, and still they go through the same emotional upheaval.  I can not imagine going through all those feelings much more often than once a year and yet there are those that do it much more often.  It is hard to explain where those feeling come from and why I let them get to me.  There are so many possibilities that swirl through my head as we are getting prepared for the trip.  Thoughts like, what if he is not allowed to visit us because he is the the SHU? or What if they won't let one of us in because we fail one of their tests? or What if the metal detector goes off and I can not figure out what is setting it off?  Just the thought of having to enter a federal prison facility to visit my husband is enough to put the anxiety front and center.

Driving up and seeing the barbed wire fences for the Medium facility as we head toward the Low facility turns my knuckles white on the steering wheel.  As we exit the car I can feel my stomach start to tie up in knots and a sense of uneasiness comes over me.  Though every facility is different, many things are the same.  At my husband's location we went into a "bus stop" type building to fill out our paperwork, put our name on the visitors list and wait to get called up to the next stop.  All the families in the bus stop develop a relationship and there is a natural rapport between everyone.  We all know why we are there, no one likes why we are there, and everyone has a horror story to share.  We wait patiently until the corrections officer is ready to call us up for the next stop.  She (I say she because it was the same woman for every visit we had with my husband) calls up a group and we silently walk up to the next building.  We drop off our forms and ID and take a seat in the visitor friendly waiting area (That was said with sarcasm by the way).  If it is your first visit, there are photos to be taken and other information that they collect, but I you have been here before, you sit and wait until they call you up again.

If your forms are all correct and they like everything else today, you get called to "sign the book" and get in line to pass through the metal detector.  As you are removing your shoes you are hoping that you are not wearing anything that will set off the detectors,  but if you are, be prepared to have the officer pass over the wand.  Once you have cleared all the screenings and the guards deem what you are wearing is acceptable, you get your hand stamped and have to get back in line to pass through the bars.  I have heard stories of people being turned away for the type of shoes, pants or shirts that they were wearing.  Even small children were sent out until they came back with something better to wear.  I wanted to cry during our last visit when I saw a three year old boy following the routine, passing through the metal detector and putting out his hand for his stamp.  He was only three years old and knew the routine inside and out, it was a sad thought that this was a normal part of his life. 

Passing through the first set of doors you walk up to the next set and wait there until they are opened and you can pass through.  From here you are entering the visitors room.  You are told where to sit and wait for your loved one.  When they finally come out, you get one hug and kiss and that is it.  We were allowed to hold hands but nothing more.  The inmates are not allowed to approach the vending machines or microwaves and yet we have a family picnic on plastic tables and vending machine food.

When it is time to leave, we get another hug and a kiss good bye and then we head to the door.  You get your ID back and they scan your hand for the secret mark that was put there when you came in.  You follow the same officer through the first door and then the same officer scans your hand again to pass through the second door.  Not sure why, it is the same officer and he walks down the hall with you.  What could have changed in that twenty feet?  But you do what you are told.

Passing through the second set of doors, signing the book as you leave and back out into the real world.  I am always so emotional drained by this point that I have to wait a bit before driving away to come back down to reality.  But this last time was different.  It is almost over, the time is passing and soon we can all be in the same state and eventually under the same roof.  The feelings I had knowing that this was my last visit is hard to explain other than the knowledge that I will never have to feel these feelings and anxiety ever again. 

The visits are very clinical but you take what you can get.  It makes me hug my children more and hug them longer.  There is a sense of appreciation for the freedoms that we do have and hope for the future.  I hope that all the families I see when we visit eventually get to be together again and no one finds themselves back inside those fences.