by Wendy Roberts

Letters, telephone calls and occasional visits is all that keeps Brigid O'Hanlon's family together.

For Brigid (pictured) her life is here in Derbyshire - serving a 12-year prison sentence at Foston Hall.

On the outside and hundreds of miles away in Northern Ireland, Brigid's four children fend for themselves.

"I've lost my freedom," said the 44-year-old. "But what's worse is losing my children.

"Not having my kids is a bigger punishment than being in prison. They're having to look after each other. I miss them terribly."

Brigid was convicted in 1999 for being knowingly concerned with the importation of drugs. When she can, she pleads her innocence. "But that's another story," she says. "I'm here to discuss what affect me being here has on my children.

"It's devastating for them and me. I've disappeared from their lives and I'll never forgive myself for that. From one day to the next, I never know what they're doing. I worry endlessly."

Every year, thousands of children feel the terror and isolation of seeing their mothers go to jail.

Some are lucky and still see their mum once every two weeks. But logistical problems can mean it's nearer to once a month, and sometimes not at all if the prison is located far from the child's home.

In Brigid's case, seeing her kids is an almost impossibility.

Since she's been in Foston Hall, in Derbyshire, she can count on the fingers of one hand the times she's seen all four of her children together.

"I'm so far away from them," she said. "If they want to come they have to find the money to pay for flights and taxis and take time off work. It's extremely difficult for them. They just can't afford the cost."

Normal visiting times last for just two hours. But for Brigid, the prison has granted her an extension when her children are able to come over.

Every week, she telephones them. She has literally two minutes to talk to all four before her money is spent.

Her youngest children, 13-year-old Noirin and 18-year-old Cathal, live with her eldest two, 23-year-old Bleina and Derbhla, 22. The pair have their own houses about 10 miles apart. It's a small comfort for Brigid.

"Knowing that they're together makes me feel slightly easier about the whole thing," she said. "Having said that I have no control over what they're doing. If they have a problem they can't come to me.

"They're all still so young in my eyes. I can't bare to think of them on their own. I should be with them - caring for them."

Only the other week, when Brigid made her Tuesday night call home, she found her youngest daughter extremely upset. She was having trouble at school. Brigid felt completely helpless.

"I talked to Noirin," she said. "But what can I do, I'm so far away. I gave her some comfort but I know that it's not enough. If they're ever feeling low I know they try and hide it from me, but it was obviously too much for Noirin.

"She needed her mum and I couldn't be there for her. I talked to her for about 30 seconds before I had to go."

Her children have to cope alone. Their father died the year before Brigid was convicted and they have no other family to keep a watchful eye over them.

"I can't begin to explain what it has been like. I can't be a parent to them - not while I'm in here. What hurts is knowing that I'm inflicting so much pain on them."

In her cell at Foston Hall is a small notice board where she displays her cherished family photos. It's crammed full of pictures of her four children and her two grandchildren - one of which she's never met.

"I like to look at these pictures," she said, gazing out of the window to see a team of inmates working in the garden. "It's all I have to remind me of my kids."

She knows she's embarrassed her family. "I'm sure my kids suffer. I bet they're taunted about the fact that their mother is doing time in prison. I never wanted that for my children. I never wanted to put them through this. It hurts."

Brigid tries to limit the time she spends thinking about her kids. She says it's too distressing to constantly worry about their wellbeing.

"When I wake up and when I go to bed at night my thoughts turns to the children," she said. "During the day, I try and keep busy and block them out of my head.

"It's too painful to dwell on them. The pain in insurmountable. I can't begin to explain how I feel inside. I worry about them dreadfully."

Even now, with years still left to serve, Brigid knows she'll never return to Ireland when she released. Apart from that decision, she's made no other plans for her future.

"I know I can't turn back the clock, or forget the years in prison, but I'm going to have a build a new life for myself. But more importantly, I'll be able to see my children. I won't be able to make up for lost time - but I'll be there if they need me."

See also

'I miss my kids terribly'

8,000 lose a mum to jail

Story courtesy of the Derby Evening Telegraph