This is hard to write. Very hard. I was raised with a sense of extreme pride and to always do everything possible to help oneself before asking for help. Even when I was homeless (twice) I asked for no help at all, and had a hard time accepting it when it was offered. But I couldn't make myself ask for it, couldn't impose myself upon others for the sake of myself and only myself.
The first time I was just out of the hospital, and there was a big blow-up between me and my mom when she was drunk. So there I was, three days out of the hospital after having had a coma lasting several weeks. I try to ignore that whole time because it still stings. The second time wasn't long after my dad died. I had been back in their home only a few weeks, a temporary stay, as I had just gotten out of an abusive relationship (that jerk - abusers are jerks! - had a roof over his head when I was homeless the first time and let me be on the street instead of helping me!!) when he killed himself. It was awful. By some stroke of freaking magical luck, I went from homeless to having a job that payed $25/hr for 20/hrs per week, and I'm still stunned about that to this day. And they pay went up really quick after that to the point I was making $4,000 per month in a month with four pay days working part-time. I was pretty proud of myself for doing that all by myself.
My fiance and I met as friend, got together a couple years later, and then I was laid off. We managed to rearrange our finances, very thankful we had no debt or even credit cards to feel tempted to use, and he got not only a sizable raise and promotion, but went to full-time with benefits and everything.
So down, up, a slight dip, back up.
On that second up there we went through IVF, and things were peachy. We decided to move closer to his family where the cost of living is less, and transfer his position, which his former bosses said they'd do.
So things were great! We were thrilled. Baby on the way, living in a better area, larger apartment, etc.. How could things go wrong when he works for one of the few companies that's profiting in the midst of a recession?
Easy. His old managers didn't follow through on the transfer and let him know only a week before the move that they actually didn't do it. New lease signed on a new place, our old place already re-rented for the week after we left. We had to move anyway, thankful to have some vacation time to fall back on, and he got a different position with the same company, a promotion in title and responsibility, but for less pay. That less pay has sunk us.
For months now we're been barely scraping by. When I say barely scraping by, I mean we're lucky to have pennies at the end of the month. Food or gas for the car, electric or water. Good-bye internet (thank you, free wi-fi, even if the signal is weak, at least we can get internet free). Good-bye cable. Good-bye occasional dinners and nights out. Hello to being hungry and scraping the cupboards bare.
We don't anticipate things getting better for a long time. We're trying out best, being so frugal I lost a long-time friend who thought I had to be exaggerating because no one she knows would dare cut...cable. When my fiance did get a raise, it was into another tax bracket, and was for a pittance anyway. We aren't going to count on enough deductions to off-set it. We can't count on money that's not cash available to us. We won't raise the W2 withholding deduction to 10 and have to pay a huge sum next year.
But we just aren't really making it. I guess I can't say we're starving to death because we aren't dead or sick from malnourishment (I'm sick a lot, enough my midwife forbade me to work on top of the OB I was seeing before her telling me the same thing - my health really declines during times of extreme stress and it triggers my seizures) but it's not malnourishment). The seizure meds I was on are cat. D and cat. X, as in "do NOT take when pregnant because death to the baby and other bad things will probably happen!" When one gets close to coming on, our dogs (who aren't exactly on very good food, but at least are healthy) react, and I lay down with them, and that helps tremendously, enough that we're afraid to get rid of them.
I've gained 13 pounds this entire pregnancy. The baby was estimated via ultrasounds yesterday to be 5lb12oz. I'm 35w1d along today. At this rate I'll weigh less immediately after delivery than I did before getting
I guess that's what I have it in mind we should be before thinking about WIC and food stamps, that we generally have too much fortune still in our lives to deserve any help. If I saw another family in our situation, I'd say that other family had a genuine need. But I can't seem to see ourselves in the same light. I have a hard time seeing us having need when we have a bed and blankets and some furniture. I'm holding us to a higher standard.
We want to do things or ourselves. I'll admit I've seen enough extreme abuse of the system by my legacy*-relatives that I don't want to be associated with anything they do/get/etc. At the same time, we don't want our baby to suffer, and any help would be as temporary as possible. Yet we can't seem to get over our pride and admit to help that we aren't sure we need. We aren't sure we need it because our pride says to do it ourselves.
At what point should the towel be thrown in and we just suck it up and apply? Are we there yet? Are we still far enough away that we should keep plodding along because neither of us is likely to die soon? I guess what I need is someone to convince me either that we do need to knock it off and admit to needing help, or to quit pitying us and our situation when others are even worse off, that at least my fiance has a job, and so we'd be wrong to go apply. I don't know what to do or think and need some objective opinions.
If you've made it this far, you deserve a cookie. I'm sure your computer has plenty stored.
(Legacy? People raised on welfare their entire lives who repeat the pattern - every single one of my cousins were born to welfare moms, and every single one of them over the age of 14 is a welfare mom themselves now, and babies are celebrated as being more money in the checks - I have no idea how they've managed to get around the 2-year rule, but there's no plan among them to go to work if they don't have to. And their kids will probably follow in their foot steps. Our grandma is 67 and her oldest great-grandchild is 11. I thank the heavens my parents, for all their faults, raised me better than to happily take hand-outs and not care about where the money comes from.)
The first time I was just out of the hospital, and there was a big blow-up between me and my mom when she was drunk. So there I was, three days out of the hospital after having had a coma lasting several weeks. I try to ignore that whole time because it still stings. The second time wasn't long after my dad died. I had been back in their home only a few weeks, a temporary stay, as I had just gotten out of an abusive relationship (that jerk - abusers are jerks! - had a roof over his head when I was homeless the first time and let me be on the street instead of helping me!!) when he killed himself. It was awful. By some stroke of freaking magical luck, I went from homeless to having a job that payed $25/hr for 20/hrs per week, and I'm still stunned about that to this day. And they pay went up really quick after that to the point I was making $4,000 per month in a month with four pay days working part-time. I was pretty proud of myself for doing that all by myself.
My fiance and I met as friend, got together a couple years later, and then I was laid off. We managed to rearrange our finances, very thankful we had no debt or even credit cards to feel tempted to use, and he got not only a sizable raise and promotion, but went to full-time with benefits and everything.
So down, up, a slight dip, back up.
On that second up there we went through IVF, and things were peachy. We decided to move closer to his family where the cost of living is less, and transfer his position, which his former bosses said they'd do.
So things were great! We were thrilled. Baby on the way, living in a better area, larger apartment, etc.. How could things go wrong when he works for one of the few companies that's profiting in the midst of a recession?
Easy. His old managers didn't follow through on the transfer and let him know only a week before the move that they actually didn't do it. New lease signed on a new place, our old place already re-rented for the week after we left. We had to move anyway, thankful to have some vacation time to fall back on, and he got a different position with the same company, a promotion in title and responsibility, but for less pay. That less pay has sunk us.
For months now we're been barely scraping by. When I say barely scraping by, I mean we're lucky to have pennies at the end of the month. Food or gas for the car, electric or water. Good-bye internet (thank you, free wi-fi, even if the signal is weak, at least we can get internet free). Good-bye cable. Good-bye occasional dinners and nights out. Hello to being hungry and scraping the cupboards bare.
We don't anticipate things getting better for a long time. We're trying out best, being so frugal I lost a long-time friend who thought I had to be exaggerating because no one she knows would dare cut...cable. When my fiance did get a raise, it was into another tax bracket, and was for a pittance anyway. We aren't going to count on enough deductions to off-set it. We can't count on money that's not cash available to us. We won't raise the W2 withholding deduction to 10 and have to pay a huge sum next year.
But we just aren't really making it. I guess I can't say we're starving to death because we aren't dead or sick from malnourishment (I'm sick a lot, enough my midwife forbade me to work on top of the OB I was seeing before her telling me the same thing - my health really declines during times of extreme stress and it triggers my seizures) but it's not malnourishment). The seizure meds I was on are cat. D and cat. X, as in "do NOT take when pregnant because death to the baby and other bad things will probably happen!" When one gets close to coming on, our dogs (who aren't exactly on very good food, but at least are healthy) react, and I lay down with them, and that helps tremendously, enough that we're afraid to get rid of them.
I've gained 13 pounds this entire pregnancy. The baby was estimated via ultrasounds yesterday to be 5lb12oz. I'm 35w1d along today. At this rate I'll weigh less immediately after delivery than I did before getting
I guess that's what I have it in mind we should be before thinking about WIC and food stamps, that we generally have too much fortune still in our lives to deserve any help. If I saw another family in our situation, I'd say that other family had a genuine need. But I can't seem to see ourselves in the same light. I have a hard time seeing us having need when we have a bed and blankets and some furniture. I'm holding us to a higher standard.
We want to do things or ourselves. I'll admit I've seen enough extreme abuse of the system by my legacy*-relatives that I don't want to be associated with anything they do/get/etc. At the same time, we don't want our baby to suffer, and any help would be as temporary as possible. Yet we can't seem to get over our pride and admit to help that we aren't sure we need. We aren't sure we need it because our pride says to do it ourselves.
At what point should the towel be thrown in and we just suck it up and apply? Are we there yet? Are we still far enough away that we should keep plodding along because neither of us is likely to die soon? I guess what I need is someone to convince me either that we do need to knock it off and admit to needing help, or to quit pitying us and our situation when others are even worse off, that at least my fiance has a job, and so we'd be wrong to go apply. I don't know what to do or think and need some objective opinions.
If you've made it this far, you deserve a cookie. I'm sure your computer has plenty stored.
(Legacy? People raised on welfare their entire lives who repeat the pattern - every single one of my cousins were born to welfare moms, and every single one of them over the age of 14 is a welfare mom themselves now, and babies are celebrated as being more money in the checks - I have no idea how they've managed to get around the 2-year rule, but there's no plan among them to go to work if they don't have to. And their kids will probably follow in their foot steps. Our grandma is 67 and her oldest great-grandchild is 11. I thank the heavens my parents, for all their faults, raised me better than to happily take hand-outs and not care about where the money comes from.)
