‘Even though I’m not there, I’m thinking of him’: Texas Incarcerated Moms Connect With Their Children One Book At a Time
In a large classroom, illuminated under beaming fluorescent lights, a mother named Lisa Orozco sat reading aloud, Jon Scieszka’s book titled “The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs!”
As she opened the cover of the glossy children’s book, she immediately transformed into character, shifting her tone of voice to portray the big, bad wolf.
Reading aloud to her son, Orozco fiercely turned each page, huffing and puffing as the wolf does in the children’s classic, until she reached the end and told her son, “I can't wait to give you lots of sugar soon; I love you!”
As she closed the book, the person sitting across from her pressed the stop button on the tape recorder, collected the book and recorder, and walked alongside Orozco back to the common area of the school building at the Patrick L. O’Daniel Unit in Gatesville, Texas.
In 2022, Orozco was sent away to prison for manslaughter involving a car accident, leaving behind her family in Houston.
Her youngest son is 8 years old, and each month, Orozco participates in the Women’s Storybook Project, which allows her to read to him. Her other three children are over the program’s cutoff age of 14.
The nonprofit program goes into Texas women’s prisons, focusing on connecting incarcerated mothers with their children through recording mothers reading bedtime stories to their children.
“Reading to him is very exciting– I get a chance to actually be a mom to a younger kid, because all my kids are grown, so I still like to treat him as my baby,” Orozco said. “I make sound effects and sound all excited when I’m reading to him.”
She said he loves to get the book alongside the recording of her voice reading each month, and he thinks each one is a special gift just for him.
Before Orozoco went to prison, she said she loved to take her children to the movies, their University Interscholastic League meets and sports practices.
“It’s hard not being there to help them with homework or if they need support,” Orozco said.
Almost every day, Orozco messages with her children and her mom, who is watching over them. Storybook is important, she said, for her to continue to nurture her relationship with her youngest.
“For us to have a connection and for him to feel like, you know, even though I’m not there, I’m still thinking about him,” Orozco said.
For nearly 22 years, volunteers from the organization have split into groups and headed to different state prisons across rural parts of Central and East Texas.
For this monthly visit, volunteers entered the Patrick L. O’Daniel Unit and underwent a strict security check-in, which allowed them to bring in only themselves, four recorders, 10 Sharpies and 12 colored markers, along with their cases of books.
The guard explicitly counted each item to ensure they had the exact count of their pre-approved permissible items for their visit.
This was Thavorey Lundquist's first time volunteering with Storybook. But as far as visiting a state prison, this was not her first rodeo. She began visiting prisons at age 21 when she started working at Texas Child Protective Services.
“I did more than office work, also provided visits for families, I drove around, and I did a lot of helping caseworkers manage their caseload,” Lundquist said. “I kind of got really interested in casework and case management and then the child welfare industry.”
The case management part was what she said she was most passionate about because at age 7, she was removed from her mother’s custody by child protection services and moved to Texas.
“I was placed in Texas with my maternal grandparents, so I don’t really remember a lot about that process,” Lundquist said. “They were my parental figures. As I worked for CPS, I kind of started to recognize trends I found that drove me to advocate for some of the things I find important, like the significance in foster care.”
Lundquist said the investigative aspect of the work was what drove her to want to be a better case worker.
“When I first started, it was interesting knowing that maybe I could make a small difference through my engagement and interactions with clients,” Lundquist said. “I just wanted to make sure that people were getting the interactions they deserved. It’s – treating people well regardless of who they might be.”
Last April, Lundquist decided to step away from the job.
“I decided that I can navigate trying to find meaningful experiences myself as an individual, as to volunteer with an organization that would bring me personal purpose outside of work, because I think that was kind of what my problem was,” Lundquist said.
While working on a research paper for her graduate program, she discovered the Women’s Storybook Project.
“While I was doing research, I found this project, and was really interested [in] bridging the gap created by incarceration for parents and children through the love of books– the love of storytelling, which I love reading,” Lundquist said. “For me, growing up in the child welfare system, that was something that was very, very important to me.”
Walking through the prison unit, Lundquist passed a hand-painted motivational quote plastered on the red brick wall of the building, written in a cursive-like font, which read, “Hardships turn ordinary people into extraordinary ones.”
Lundquist helped the other volunteers unpack boxes filled with books and neatly spread them across several tables, each categorized by reading level, as they waited for the moms to make their way to the school building of the prison.
After the volunteers arranged craft materials and set blue school chairs in a circle, the moms made their way in, chatting and catching up.
One mentioned seeing the newest hit movie, “Wicked,” and mimicked the iconic Glinda hair flip.
Once everyone arrived, and a few housekeeping announcements were made, moms made their way to the tables, hand-picking books for each child they had.
Lundquist walked with her first mom toward a classroom, making sure no background noise would interrupt the recording. She sat with her first mom of the day, face-to-face, separated by the standard school table, and pressed record. On their monthly visits, volunteers sit across the table from multiple moms, who are only given 10 minutes to read to each child. Mothers with older children, who are reading longer books, get through about a chapter, but their children are encouraged to continue reading the rest of the book on their own.
“Those parents were once kids too, and they didn’t always get what they deserved from life. A lot of the people who grow up with a criminal record have often experienced a lot of abuse and neglect in their life,” Lundquist said. “They turn to drugs, they turn to crime as a result, and don’t know how to turn it off. They don’t ever get the help they need; they have no sense of security or safety.”
At some point, the cycle has to stop, Lundquist emphasized.
“It has to be reset, and we have to approach it at a deeper level, and things like this are an opportunity to fix that,” she said.
Executive Director of the Women’s Storybook Project, Jill Gonzalez, said she took on the position in 2018, and after reading the job description, she said she knew it was the right fit for her.
“I have a very personal philosophy about children’s books. There’s so many things that can be taught through a children’s book, and the connection you form when you sit and read to someone is just beautiful,” Gonzalez said.
She continues the work, she said, because she wants to help moms.
Incarcerated mothers get involved in the program if they have a clean record with Child Protection Services, their children are between 0 and 14-years-old and the mothers have demonstrated two months of good behavior.
If they meet all these criteria, they are considered part of the program and are eligible for six months, with volunteers visiting prisons monthly, and then four months after that, virtually. For the virtual months, the program assigns mothers an activity, such as arts and crafts, to complete and mail to their children.
Gonzalez said one virtual bonding activity they have had in the past is creating a puzzle. Where mom’s color the pieces and write things they love about their child. The child then receives the puzzle in the mail and then has to connect the pieces to read the reasons their mother’s love them.
“Sometimes one child will age out or all the children will age out,” Gonzalez said. “So we’ve had some moms stick with us for four or five or six years.”
Last year, they established 12 programs in 12 Texas prisons. As a result, 522 mothers read books to their children, and 1,032 of those children heard their mothers’ voices.
During the week, group leaders stumble into the office, neatly tucked away in West Lake Hills, to drop off large manila envelopes containing the voices of the mothers, stored on micro-SD cards, awaiting their delivery to their children’s homes.
Charlene Ingram has volunteered with the organization for close to a decade.
A little over a year ago, she helped the organization expand its efforts to reach beyond statewide prisons and into county jails, beginning in Travis County.
“I was a volunteer, did a lot, covered all the prisons and things [was] co-team leader out at San Saba until they switched from being a women's prison to a men's prison,” Ingram said. “So now, I took a while [off] after that to just be a volunteer, go check out the various prisons again, and now [we’re] going into Travis County Correctional Complex.”
Whether in state prisons or the county jail, the routine is the same. Give incarcerated mothers the opportunity to nourish their relationship with their children while they are away.
For moms who are joining the program for the first time, a hit book the organization recommends is “The Invisible String” by Patrice Karst.
The book follows a mother and her two children, and in the story, the two children wake up scared and want to be with their mother.
“She just explains to them that no matter what happens, we’re always together because of the invisible string,” Gonzalez said. “And they question her about it, and which, of course, she can’t see.”
Gonzalez explained even though the string is invisible, it’s made of love, emphasizing to the children that, although their mother is away, they are still connected by the invisible string – love.
“So it’s perfect for our moms because they have this [invisible string],” Gonzalez said
Books like “The Invisible String,” “Goodnight Moon,” “Love You Forever” and many others fill two large rooms at the group’s office.
Primarily on a donation basis, Gonzalez said she ensures there are enough books, funds, support and that the organization is not a well-kept secret.
As of now, they have a volunteer base in Houston, their home office in San Antonio, and are attempting to establish volunteer initiatives in Collin County, near Dallas.
For Orozco, she said she will continue the program while her son is still within the age requirements for them to participate and is looking forward to being released from prison in November next year.
But before then, she said she is excited for her next in-person visit, with her children traveling over 200 miles to spend time with her for Mother’s Day.
“I’m going to keep reading to him,” Orozco said. “I look forward to continuing the project, [because] it will bring me closer to him.”