State administers 5,000 pregnancy tests per year

Pregnancy tests benefit inmates, babies, jails
Program, which began in September, aims to save state money, but jailer workload
Barrouquere, Brett. Lexington Herald-Leader, Jan. 14, 2007, pg. B4.

PEWEE VALLEY -- Nikisha Robinson was excited when a pregnancy test came up positive eight months ago. Robinson was less thrilled by where the test was taken -- in a Louisville jail.

Robinson, who is due in late January, was tested shortly after being taken into custody as part of a state program that identifies pregnant inmates and sends them to a women's prison, where the state takes care of their medical needs until the baby is born.

The program, which started in September, requires all women who were convicted, but still in a county jail, to undergo a pregnancy test. If the test is positive, the inmate is sent to the Kentucky Correctional Institute for Women in Pewee Valley, about 25 minutes east of Louisville.

The goal of the program is, ultimately, to save the state money by identifying pregnant inmates early so any potential problem pregnancies can be identified and treated, said Dr. Scott Haas, medical director for the Kentucky Department of Corrections.

Kentucky jails take in about 6,000 female inmates every year, of which about 80 percent are between 18 and 50 -- child-bearing age, Haas said. That leaves the state administering about 5,000 tests every year. The state corrections department bought 5,000 pregnancy tests from a vendor for less than $1 a test and distributed them to every jail in Kentucky with a memo on when and how to administer the test and what to do if the inmate was pregnant.

"Less than $5,000 a year is a small price to pay for what is really the right thing to do," Haas said. "The unborn child has not done anything to anyone. They should not be punished for the wrongs of their parents."

The program has proven popular with inmates, particularly Robinson, who is eight months into a 15-year sentence for violating her probation on a charge of facilitation to commit robbery.

"This is better than I thought," said Robinson, 22. "I thought it would be scary. All my questions are answered."

Jailers around Kentucky favor the program because it cuts down on work for the staff. Roger Webb, the Floyd County jailer in Eastern Kentucky, said that before the state started the pregnancy testing, female inmates were brought to the local health department for tests and medical visits.

"It'll save us from having to spend man hours and having an inmate out of a secure place in the jail," Webb said.

But the testing gets mixed reviews from Amanda Kreps-Long, director of the Reproductive Freedom Project of the ACLU in Kentucky. Kreps-Long said requiring the tests could be an invasion of privacy and sending the women to Pewee Valley might constitute a hardship by taking the inmate away from family and lawyers.

"That can be tough for a lot of women," Kreps-Long said.

There were 108 pregnant inmates at the prison in 2006, with 62 delivering last year, said Denise Burkett, the nurse practitioner at the prison. About two dozen women inmates were expected to deliver babies in January, Burkett said.

With Robinson's due date coming up, she knows there will be a trip to the hospital soon, but she doesn't know when. Prison officials haven't told Robinson when she'll be going to the hospital for a scheduled Caesarean section, nor has her family in Louisville been notified, Burkett said. Prison officials will tell Robinson the night before she is to go to the hospital.

"The reason we can't tell them in advance is it is an escape risk," Burkett said.

The lack of notification is standard for pregnant inmates, but frustrating to someone like Robinson.

"That's the only thing I hate about having a baby in jail. I can't tell my family," Robinson said. "They won't see him until he's three days old."

For inmates whose families can't or won't take care of the baby, the prison works with two organizations -- one in Louisville, the other in Eastern Kentucky -- to either house the newborns or place them in foster care, Burkett said. In some cases, the inmates get weekly visits from their children.

"They really, really enjoy that time," Burkett said. "That's kind of what helps them get by week to week without their babies."

Robinson's family will take care of the baby, who Robinson plans to name Demonte, while she waits to either be paroled or have her probation reinstated -- something that could take anywhere from a month to several years. That will ensure regular visits with the baby, Robinson said.

"I'll see him periodically," Robinson said. "My family says they're ready. We'll see."