Jen Shah: Journal Entry #1
Two miles from Bryan Federal Prison Camp (FPC), I could not breathe and my hands went numb. I knew I was having an anxiety attack. I made Coach pull over because our reception was poor while driving and I was not able to Facetime my oldest baby. We finally connected, I saw his face, and I cried so hard until he reassured me that it would be okay. I didn't think I'd make it through today. It felt surreal as we drove to Bryan FPC just minutes away from having to surrender. My worst fear and the unimaginable was about to happen - having to say goodbye to my sweet husband and precious baby Omar (he'll always be my baby even though he's a senior in HS).
We approached the gates and were told to pull into a parking stall next to a white van. It all happened so fast. There was a guard waiting outside of our SUV, and two more officers approached, who I later found out one was the Captain. I leaned over to the seat next to me and hugged Omar as tight as I could and cried as I buried my head in his chest and held him as tight as I could not wanting to face reality that this would be the last time I hugged him for a while.
Sharrieff opened the back passenger door, and I turned to embrace him; hugging him as if holding him harder would somehow erase this horrible nightmare. I wanted to remember his embrace, his smell, his touch. I held his face in both of my hands. As I looked into his eyes, tears streaming down my face, I told him he is the love of my life and I love him more than anything. Having seconds to tell your husband how much you love him and hoping he truly understands the depths of your love while officers stand there silently urging you to move quickly was the most horrible experience. It's as if you know your world is ending and you have 30 seconds to tell the people you love how much you love them and hope they feel your love and understand its magnitude.
Omar then walked to my side of the SUV, I pull Omar into our embrace. As the three of us hug each other tightly, I pray, "Oh Allah, please protect my family, please Allah". As we hug and tears fall, we desperately clutch on to this last moment, when suddenly the officer says, “Okay, let’s go.” As I make my way to the back of the SUV, the guard asks me what's in my plastic bag. I read every federal website including the Bryan FPC handbook, and all sources indicated that I need to have my essential items in a clear plastic bag when I surrender. The officer lets me keep my papers that contain my prescriptions, my actual meds, rx glasses, and contacts but he won't let me bring in my release plan, contacts list, Quran, or driver’s license. So I hand all of those items back to Sharrieff. The one item that made me feel instantly isolated was not having my contacts lists. I didn’t have the mental bandwidth to memorize my family and loved ones' emails, addresses and phone numbers. I felt so alone and my husband and son were only 2 steps away from me.
The officer motions for us to begin walking into Bryan as the other two officials inch toward us also saying with their body language, “it’s time to go.” Omar quickly comes in front of me and we hug one last time so tightly that I feel air pressing out of my lungs, and I cry even harder. Omar has been so strong through everything. As I look at his face it’s as if he's a little boy again and he's finally letting his walls of strength down - the hurt, pain and sadness in my baby boy’s face is now completely transparent. His eyes are saying, "Mama please don't leave". I tell him I love him so much. I hug and kiss Sharrieff again and as tears pour down my face. I walk away with the three officials. As I walk, I see Sharrieff and Omar are watching me both still crying. I say a prayer as I'm walking asking for strength. I don't know how I am going to do this.
I approach a window outside of a building and am asked to say my name and Bureau of Prisons Identification number. We then walk across the yard to open the doors where my reality will now be Federal Prison Camp. I turn to get one last glance at my husband and son. I wave at them for the last time before I enter the doors. My entire body is numb, I feel like my life is ending, and I am truly scared. I want to run back into my husband’s arms because I know he will make this nightmare end. I feel physically sick. I feel like I don't belong here. I thought I could do this but I've decided I can't. I want to go home right now, but I know that is impossible. Please Allah help me, please.
