Dear fellow shopper,
I know you can't see it, but as I put my vegetables on the belt, I feel my heart race and the blood rush to my face in embarassment. I can hear your sigh, and I can see you are contemplating switching lines. Inside I'm praying that you find a shorter line, get your shopping done quickly, and that no one else comes up in my line behind me. My stomach is in knots knowing I'm slowing down the lines, and I'm certain that I'm the cashier's least favorite type of customer.
I use WIC. Women, Infants, and Children is an amazing program that has done so much for my family. I know that all you see of this program is a family taking too long in the grocery store to buy some milk and bread. I know you think these small food items are not worth the time, but to me they are. I know you assume we are "mooching off the government." I'm sure you are rolling your eyes right now and making comments because you assume we don't work and feel entitled to help for our kids, that you probably believe we never should have had. I once thought these things too.
I was pregnant with my first son in 2011. We were newly weds and wanted to have a baby right away, and I immediately fell pregnant the first month we tried. We were both working and were fairly established, and had all our pieces together. Then one day, I was playing cards at my dads house and I felt something wet, like I peed myself. Embarassed, I stood up and went in full panic mode when I saw blood on his carpet. He lived two doors down from me, so I ran home, got on the toilet, and called my mom sobbing. I then called my midwife who told me to prepare for the worst, take it easy, because this was probably [another] miscarriage. I was crushed, and so confused, I felt my baby kicking at me and I really didn't know what to think. All I knew was my baby was alive and I was going to fight for this little life. The next day the bleeding got worse, and I begged my midwife for a sonogram against her judgement. She called me a few hours later to tell me that I had placenta previa and that I really needed to rest. Essentially my placenta was tearing and my baby was at risk based on the amount of blood loss. I called my work to tell them I needed to go on bed rest until the placenta moved, if it moved. Due to miscommunication on the phone, they thought I was quitting my job, and I was replaced at my work. So now, I have a baby on the way, maybe, bills, rent, and an upcoming birth to pay for and I just lost half our family's income. At the time I did not care, I was only worried about being put on strict bed rest and praying my baby was going to make it.
My pregnancy progressed and things started to look good. My placenta moved and everything was going healthy. We adjusted our bills so that we could live on one income, but things were really really tight. I was caught between wanting to find another job as flexible as I had, and wanting to be a stay at home mom. We decided we were going to do everything we could for me to stay home full time. We couldn't afford daycare, and I wanted to raise our baby full time. We were still financially strapped the last few weeks of my pregnancy and I was still trying to collect those last minute items for baby. I really wanted a breast pump and a friend told me our local WIC had some free ones available. I went down to the office, asking for a breast pump, and upon arriving I was presented with so many resources and next thing I knew they were signing me up for the whole program. WIC has many classes, breastfeeding help, free clothes, car seat programs, and free food checks. As they were signing me up I was thinking "I really don't need all this, I just want a pump", but I took my folder home and it sat there, unused, for a while.
One night, while on bed rest, it started to rain. I finally got out of the house for dinner at my parent's, and upon returning home we find our roof in our apartment collapsed. The next few weeks, I had to sit in our apartment while they fixed the roof: power tools, ladders, dust, and all. Finally, everything was cleaned up, just in time for another rain, another collapse, and another week of repairs. Frustrated, I went to my apartment managers and requested a new apartment. The only one available was across the way and it was an increase in rent. It was going to take every penny we had to our name to move into this apartment and we would have NO extra money at the end of the month. Our financial situation in a very short time went from very comfortable to absolutely broke. We had to take the apartment, and a few days later a family member moved in with us, raising our bills. We had a car break down, some unexpected bills come through, some of our property stolen, our bank made some clerical errors, some debt to pay, and suddenly that WIC folder on my counter looked like HOPE. That night, I filled my cupboards: fruit, vegetables, cereal, bread, milk, eggs, beans, peanut butter... So grateful.
I never thought I'd be in the position of needing this, but here I was, I needed it.
My son was born, and we went to our first post partum WIC appointment. They weighed him, asked me dietary questions, and then asked me how breastfeeding was going. I almost wanted to cry. "I'm trying and trying, but I have blisters and blood every where and I almost want to give up!" Immediately, they called in a lactation counselor from down the hall and she started working with me. Again, WIC left me full of hope and feeling supported. The best thing that happened that day was getting a hug from that woman as she whispered in my ear "you are a good mom, things are going to get easier!"
Financially, things got easier over the next few months and I found myself not using my WIC checks. I still attended meetings, breastfeeding support groups, car seat trainings, and sometimes I would just stop in to see how my baby was growing. The ladies there know me and my kids by name, and they have become my little safe village. I have now been a part of the WIC system off and on for 3 years. Anytime my husband's income dips below the line, I know I can rest assured that my kids will be fed. I don't always use my checks. If we don't need the help, then I don't use the resource. However, WIC has been so much more to my family than just food. They have been my absolute biggest support system as a mom. I cried on a workers shoulder for an hour after a miscarriage, they help me adjust my diet for my health issues, they provide me with pumps and pump parts for donating my milk, they encourage me to long-term breastfeed, they helped me find resources for my son's mental health, they helped me find an oral surgeon for my son, they help me with my car seats, they ask ME how I'm doing and they love my kids! They help me be a better mom.
I can never repay these workers for what they have done for my family. And I should not feel ashamed for using resources that are available to me that have bettered me as a person. They have given me a sense of community and they have helped me help myself. WIC is not a program that you can "mooch" off. They help you get back on your feet. They help you the first few years of your child's life, and encourage you to find your wings to fly. They have advice on school and career paths, how to budget, and how to stay healthy. So when you see that purple folder in my hand while you're in line, please don't judge me. Instead, be grateful that our government is funding a program to help families thrive. Rest assured that your tax dollars that you are so concerned about is, in that moment, being used to help a family trying their hardest to succeed. Appreciate that it takes a lot for me to humble myself enough to accept this help for my kids.
I understand that you want to get your shopping done quickly, but let's be honest. If you were on such a tight time schedule, you would not have chosen Wal-Mart at 8pm to fill your cart with DVDs, bathing suits, and art supplies. So, instead of huffing and puffing behind me, glaring at me, and making snide comments about my life, wouldn't it be better for everyone if you instead just kindly, and quietly, switched to another line? Or better yet, since you see that I have an upset toddler in the cart, and a fussy baby strapped to my back, and I'm digging for my wallet, you could offer to help put my groceries on the belt. You could compliment my kids, and tell me to have a nice day, and understand that I'm humiliated enough, I don't need another mom making me feel like a failure. I can see how much you love your kids, and I know if you were in the same situation as me, you would go to the end of the world to make sure their basic needs are met. Try to understand that's all I am doing, and stop treating me as if 10 extra minutes at the check out has absolutely ruined your day. Maybe fate brought you to this line, and maybe those 10 extra minutes would save you from a car accident. Maybe fate brought you to my line so you could bless me with kindness. Maybe fate brought you to my line because my son would tell you about his batman shirt and be entertained for a few moments while I put my bags into my cart.
By tomorrow, you probably wont remember me, or that I seemed to affect your day so negatively in that moment, but I remember you. I think of your face every time I go shopping and I contemplate whether or not I really want to use my checks. My stomach ties itself in knots in fear that someone like you will roll up in line behind me. I fear every time that my son will hear your comments and wonder what his mom is doing wrong. I will always remember you. I took a few minutes out of your day, but I will remember how you made me feel for the rest of my life.
I hope, by fate, you will come across this letter. I hope when you read it you will remember that kindness always wins. We are all on the same team...trying to make it through life and be good moms. I hope next time you get in line behind a WIC mom you find it in your heart to bless her with a reassuring smile. I hope that next time you can treat someone with the same amount of respect you would want. Love goes so far.
Happy shopping!
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