I’ve never fully recounted my experience with state assistance, Medicaid and food stamps that I received while pregnant with the Munchkin. I still hold a lot of shame, not specifically attached to the receipt of said assistances, but from the reactions of others while I was utilizing government funded programs.
People were downright nasty to me. Family members. “Friends.” Co-workers. The staff at my doctor’s office. The staff at the hospital. The social workers themselves (and it got worse later on). My landlord. A pharmacy worker. The people at my current church who didn’t know I was once on assistance but launched into a tirade about those who are. The list goes on.
But there were compassionate people. The first time I showed up at the grocery store to use my EBT card, I had no idea how to go about it. The cashier was kind. Her tone was one of compassion. She taught me not only about my purchases at that store, but how to use it elsewhere. I still have a vivid memory of leaving that store and thinking that good people did exist.
It was really hard for me to stay on assistance due to my kidney disorder that landed me on bed rest at 18 weeks. Level 3 bed rest, mind you. I was unable to work. I was also unable to drive. So, when I would miss a visit with my social work regarding my lack of employment seeking, they would cut me off of assistance. I would then break bed rest, whcih was really dangerous for me to do, and get back to the office. Remind them. Show them my forms. And be fine again. For awhile. I was cut off twice during the pregnancy… and again right at the end. I paid for Munchkin’s birth out of pocket… for years. I just recently paid it off.
I’ve been asked why I didn’t go back in right after birth and get put back on assistance. The social worker on my case was so incredibly rude to me when I admitted, somewhere in the 8th month of pregnancy, that I would be placing my daughter for adoption. She verbally lashed me for “working the system” and taking money from people who really needed it. She yelled for a good twenty minutes. There was no way I was going back in to that office and asking for my birth to be covered when I didn’t have a baby to show for it. I left Pennsylvania six days after Munchkin’s birth.
I am grateful that the assistance did cover what it did. As I said, I had a ridiculously complicated pregnancy. The assistance covered my first lengthy hospital stay when my kidney disorder was found. It covered that first surgery. A second lengthy hospital stay. A third surgery and that hospital stay. Four L&D trips in which I was in preterm labor due to said kidney disorder and the medications I needed to take to combat the labor, dilation and constant contractions. An ER visit for heavy labor, a subsequent trip to Pittsburgh via ambulance (lights and sirens) and that lengthy hospital stay. That last hospital stay was actually what ended up cutting my benefits. I missed an appointment at the office while I was fighting for my life and my daughter’s life in a hospital bed in Pittsburgh. Two weeks later, they cut me, but I didn’t receive notice as my parents had me staying in their house as my doctor’s had said labor would be soon. I found out about my cut benefits about six hours after the Munchkin arrived.
Due to my experience, I have a lot of compassion for people on assistance. That’s why I felt a lot for this writer at BlogHer who talked about judgments passed on people who are on assistance having things like cell phones or the Internet. And that’s why my vision kind of shakes and I can’t form coherent sentences when people spout of nasty things in the comments or on Facebook in reply to posts like that. I can tell, immediately, that those people have never had to fight for their life, for their unborn baby’s life, while trying to stay on assistance. That they’ve never had a social worker yell thisclose to their face. That they’ve never felt the shame and stigma of both accepting assistance and relinquishment. I try to force myself to realize that not everyone wants to understand the plights of others, but it just breaks my heart for those that are continuously stereotyped by those who don’t even want to understand.
I get so discouraged with society when we let the negative define a whole group of people. If we all did that, we should say that everyone who is not on assistance is a nasty, prejudicial, compassion-less meanieface. If we know that not to be true, why can’t we stop stereotyping those utilizing services?
My name is Jenna. I blog here, 
Thoughts on the 90 Pregnant and/or New Moms in Memphis
There’s not much to say about the fact that 90(ish) teens at one high school or either pregnant or have recently become new moms. In an of itself it is indicative of a larger problem that can’t be “solved” in ways that those who are most appalled to the problem want. The reality is that whatever they’re doing sex education wise (read: abstinence only) isn’t work.
But that’s not what I’m blogging about. Here are some reactions I’ve seen around the web. Not much from the blogosphere exactly, but I actually allowed/forced myself to read some of the comments accompanying some of the link-and-story sharing. I don’t count that as a mistake; it gives me the chance to educate others.
That hurts my heart. Forcing the teen? That, right there, is perfect evidence that we haven’t escaped the mindset of the Baby Scoop Era. Avoid family shame and woe by “getting rid” of the “problem” while simultaneously providing “good” parents with a baby.
Of course, the “adoption law reform” being spoken about here isn’t the ethical reform that so many of us are talking about and pushing for and hoping comes to light sometime in our lifetime. This reform is the one that affords adoptive parents an easier time with the adoption process by stepping on the rights of birth parents.
And while I agree that the stigma that follows birth mothers really needs to go the way of the Dodo, you’re not just dealing with stigma. Even if society stops labeling birth mothers as cold-hearted, coke-addicted floozies, birth parents still have grief. Whether that adoption is open or closed, the grief is still present. We can’t just write off young mothers and sentence them to a life of grief simply because they are young.
I don’t even have to say anything about that, now do I? Well, I will say something anyway. You know what scum is? Let me tell you. Scum is the type of person who kicks someone while they’re down. You can have opinions about sex before marriage. You can have opinions about sex education, parental responsibility and what constitutes as immoral and irresponsible behavior. You can even have opinions on whether you think these girls should have aborted, should parent or should choose to place. But you can’t call them scum. Ridiculous.
But it’s not all negative out there. A blog at The Village Voice covered a quote by one of the girls which speaks of adoption. The blogger, Rosie Gray, then makes a great point, and so I’m quoting them both.
It should be required reading in every high school, everywhere. And required reading for parents who missed it. That mother? The one that wanted her daughter to “give up” the baby for adoption and now won’t help out at all? Will regret the time she is losing with her grandchild. More over, teens need to understand that it’s not all fun and games — parenting or placement or dealing with adult stuff before you’re an adult.
I’d kind of like to fly down to Memphis and make sure that these girls are being educated regarding their choices. I cringe to think at how slap-happy the local adoption agencies might be as this news breaks nationwide. My heart is heavy for these girls who have no idea what their future will hold — no matter their decisions. I want them to know that there are those of us who have survived various things and that they can as well. I just want them to be fully informed before they make decisions. I don’t want them to be forced into anything. And I fear too many might be.
I don’t have the answers. I don’t think anyone does. But I hope, at the very least, each girl has someone in her corner, pulling for her and watching out for her during this time. I know what it’s like to have no support; I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.