I Didn't Know What to Write About Today...

But I do now! Thanks mooooooooooooooooooooooo...oooooooooooog. Here's the link to his incredibly offensive post. http://www.midgetmanofsteel.com/2010/03/birth-of-dominican-cat.html

A little less than a year ago, I found myself somewhere I never thought I'd be. A barely 19 year old girl, the product of a middle-class, white, Christian family, 8 months pregnant sitting in the welfare office. I felt dirty, and ashamed, and really fucking uncomfortable sitting and waiting for 7 (yes, seven) hours on a hard plastic chair in a noisy room waiting for my name to be called. When the woman at the desk finally called me up to the window, she handed me a packet of papers with an appointment date two weeks in the future. I had less than $20 to my name, my unemployment had run out, and I feared my unborn child would have no health insurance. My mom, who was visiting to help out at the end of my pregnancy, took me home (to a bedroom that my daughter and I would share in my grandparents' house). On the way there, I cried.

I contemplated putting Sadie up for adoption that day. But I knew that one way or another I would have to figure out a way to take care of her. I had so carefully saved my money so that she would have everything she could need. I borrowed things I couldn't afford, and I was lucky enough to be given many things. I already loved this little person growing inside of me. A baby that I affectionately called a "little shit" when she stuck an elbow in my ribs. A baby that didn't care that her mommy had a sailor's mouth, tattoos, piercings, and short hair.

I dropped out of school. The pressure was a lot with a pregnancy, and I was sure I'd have to find a job as soon as she was born. The Man On Her Birth Certificate had promised that he'd get another job after he lost his, but he hadn't and I knew we'd be homeless if I depended on him. I'd read all of the books and every mommy blog I could find, I knew that the life we'd have wasn't ideal, but I was willing to do whatever it took for my daughter.

When that appointment came two weeks later, I was even more tremendously huge and completely mentally prepared to be told that I wasn't eligible for any assistance. Thank God I was wrong, and I was able to get Medi-Cal insurance for myself and my daughter. That insurance paid for my induction, delivery, and my daughter's one week stay in the NICU. I still hadn't been broke long enough to qualify for food stamps or welfare, but I was able to borrow money to get through until the next month, when those were approved.

The story of the night I left The Man On Her Birth Certificate is one for another day. But suffice it to say that were it not for that assistance, I would be homeless and starving, and my daughter would be a part of the system in another capacity, as a child in foster care.

The welfare program has a 5 year cap, meaning that in your ENTIRE life, you can only recieve cash assistance for 60 months. Total. Only single parents of children under two are able to stay home without working. And at times that feels like almost a punishment. My daughter and I survive on less than $400 a month cash, $250 in food stamps, and the assistance of WIC. WIC provides all of her baby food purees and cereal, as well as six 12 oz cans of formula. My daughter is on a special formula that costs me $29 for a 24 oz can, we use 7-8 cans a month. You do the math. (okay okay, I will, minus the WIC that's between $116 and $145 a month) And before you jump on me about my daughter being formula-fed, I'm on a prescription and her doctor prefers I not breastfeed while taking it.

Thanks to the welfare program I am able to go to school. Instead of following my dream to be a writer, I'm going to school to be a phlebotomy tech. I'm doing this because it's a short track course that paves the way to my financial independence, or at least the track to being able to take my daughter to Disneyland on her 3rd birthday. After getting that certification, I'll go to school for my degree in Registered Nursing. Not because it's what I want to do, but because it will get my daughter and I completely off of the system.

I guess my point is that, even though my friend Kathy, who also recieves welfare (yeah, we all hang out together, we can't afford to go anywhere), and I jokingly say that "welfare is Sadie's daddy", we aren't the exception. Kathy's in school too. People who are on welfare aren't necessarily "illegal" "slobs" "dirty" "trashy" "ignorant" or "from bad families". We don't spend all of our money on tattoos, booze, drugs, or expanded cable packages. Truth be told, we can't afford any of that. I only have pink hair because I have a relative who owns a hair salon and feels sorry for me. I only have tattoos because I got them before I was on welfare. I'm not old enough to drink, and if I were it'd be two buck chuck all the way. I don't use drugs, not even marijuana. I have the internet and basic cable for my distance education classes. And I shouldn't have to excuse the occasional gourmet coffee or cd that I treat myself to. Because if I didn't do something for me every once in awhile? I'd go insane.

I may be on welfare, but I'm still a person. And so is my child. And we deserve to be treated as such, by Republicans, Democrats, members of the Peace and Freedom party, Hispanics, African-Americans, Caucasians, Asian-Americans, European-Americans, and everyone else regardless of our differences. All I ask is that you treat us like you would anyone else, and judge us not by our EBT cards, but by the stuff in our grocery cart, just like you would anyone else.