Thanks to the Safer Kentucky Act, there is no room in the motel for homeless people. There is no affordable housing, no accessible mental health care, and no prevention or treatment of substance use disorders.
Bodycam shows an officer detaining a pregnant homeless woman during labor
Bodycam footage showed an LMPD officer giving a citation for illegal camping to a homeless woman who said she was pregnant.
My father’s heart attack in November caught us by surprise. At only 53 years old, he was as healthy as we thought he would be. As I made my way to the hospital, my mind was racing with fear, anxiety, discomfort, and one question that underscored it all: “What about the boys?”
While the nurses and doctors in the emergency room saved my father’s life: “What about the boys?”
While they put him in a brace until he’s strong enough for surgery: “What about the boys?”
While he was resting at home, where young children posed health and safety risks in his weakened state: “What about the boys?”
While he was undergoing quadruple bypass surgery, she wondered if he would survive: “What about the boys?”
Losing a loved one to a substance use disorder
In 2021, my little sister passed away after a 15-year battle with substance use disorder (SUD). She left behind three beautiful children, ages 14, 9, and 5, and like many families who have known the pain of losing a loved one to SUD, the boys were living with their parents and grandfather, learning how to grow up without their children. or.
The best thing for everyone is for the kids to temporarily move in with me, my husband, and our 5-year-old. We packed them up and brought them to our house for the holidays.
Just as we were getting settled and getting into some sort of routine, my biological mother showed up. I hadn’t spoken to her in over a decade, and here she was in my driveway, high on meth, threatening me. She claimed to have a loaded gun. She looked terrible, inconsequential, and was struggling to speak and breathe.
And still “what about the boys?”
So, we ran away. My husband and I were already planning to move to Louisville, so we accelerated our schedule and moved, with our nephews tagging along, so my mother couldn’t find us. It’s been two weeks since my father’s heart attack.
Homeless Pregnant Woman: An Artisan’s Birth Outside My Home
While I was struggling to create some sense of normalcy for my nephews – celebrating my youngest’s 5th birthday, coordinating with the school to try to explain why the 9-year-old was having behavioral issues and unable to sleep, and trying to create an atmosphere of Christmas cheer – a birth event Craftsman outside my new home:
A pregnant woman went into labor when a Louisville Metro Police Department lieutenant detained her for camping on the street. As her broken water ran down her clothes on the sidewalk, a city truck took her only possessions and mixed them with the city’s trash. The lieutenant, who accompanied dozens of people whose only crime was having nowhere to go, handed her a citation before calling the ambulance.
That’s the reality in Kentucky, thanks to the so-called “Safer Kentucky Law.” There is no room in the hostel. There is no affordable housing, no accessible mental health care, and no prevention or treatment for SUD unless you are a person of means. The city is a minefield for my son and nieces, and in my eyes, everyone who falls through the cracks of our broken systems is one of them. Will they fall victim to our genetic pitfalls? Do their innocent brains have the potential for addiction like my sister and my mother? Do their hearts tend to weaken with age faster than other people’s hearts?
This is an American Christmas. There are not enough resources, not enough support, not enough compassion, not enough community.
The boys are still living with us, and I’m trying to get them healthy enough to go back to my parents’ house. I’m trying to keep it together because I’m running a business and raising more kids than I wanted to or have the resources to. I can barely get a decent holiday for my family and my mental health is hanging by a thread.
What about boys?
Kira Meador is the founder and director of MeadorMade Creative. She lives in Louisville with her family and rescue dog and works to improve her community in big and small ways every day.
