One of my best friends, Heidi Aylward, is a high ACE scoring mother of two. She's also a feisty, funny and has a full life balancing work, parenting, friends and all the responsibilities of tending to home and loved ones.
And she is a woman who used WIC.
WIC defines itself as "The Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants, and Children (WIC) provides Federal grants to States for supplemental foods, health care referrals, and nutrition education for low-income pregnant, breastfeeding, and non-breastfeeding postpartum women, and to infants and children up to age five who are found to be at nutritional risk."
Heidi was a mother who needed WIC.
When she heard I was speaking to the Massachusetts Association of WIC Directors in Boston's North End last month she got animated. The topic was the Art & Science of Self-Care. Heidi and I both know how near impossible it is to prioritize self-care even now. We affectionately refer to ourselves as "high-functioning fuck ups" at times. We share an ability to sail through crisis but get mystified and disoriented when life is calm - though this is changing...
I have learned, from ACEs science, that this is not so unusual and quirky as we once thought.
I share, as a trauma survivor, why it may seem that trauma survivors have such a hard time getting out of our own way - and that there are reasons. There's lots of talk about this and the ACE Study. Of course. And in hour two, self-care guru, Kathy MacDonald, leads expressive writing and guided imagery exercises, using the times to DO self-care as well as to talk about the concept.
Anyhow, Heidi and I have to work at self-care and we talk to one another about why that's hard and encourage each other anyway. Even though we fail often and hard at getting to yoga, for walks or staying calm and centered.
Heidi shared many memories of using WIC when she was a teenager, before I knew her. She got pregnant when she was 15 years old; she reflected on what it was like for her to use WIC, with me, as an almost 40-year-old. I love her perspective.
I asked if she'd write about it and allow me to share her experience with the WIC directors at the workshop. She said yes.
It's important to hear about the experiences of those who use services, but not only while the services are being used and needed, but later when they are not needed and used. When the person who was once in need is a peer, not a recipient, and more empowered and equal. That's a voice we don't hear from enough.
She gave me permission to share her words. She speaks only for herself. This is an excerpt of what she wrote:
Dear WIC Directors:
Let me start by saying, my children are 23 and 12.
I had an unplanned pregnancy at the age of 15. I was on WIC. I was on WIC while I was pregnant, going to high school, and working. I was on WIC for the entire 14 months that I was breastfeeding her, still in high school and working.
I was on WIC until she was 5. I worked. Two jobs, in fact, and a third that was per-diem. I was on old-school, paper-check-tearing-separate your groceries-don't-get-an-ounce-over-a-pound-of-cheese WIC.
I was on circa 1993-JuicyJuice-in-a-can-that-I-didn't-have-an-opener-for WIC. I was on vintage-Teddy-Peanut-Butter-original-Cheerios-dried-beans-in-a-bag-that-I-didn't-know-how-to-cook WIC.
I was poor, single, able-bodied, working and, by all definitions of the state, "at-risk." I was ashamed to use the WIC checks at the grocery store, so I went really late at night. I got hives if someone got in line behind me. I didn't have a car, so I had to make multiple dreaded trips so that I could carry a gallon of milk, which on some nights felt heavier than my toddler. I could grocery shop for the two of us on $16 a week with the WIC supplement. It was all there was some weeks. I had to walk about three miles pushing the stroller to attend the WIC counseling meetings and get the paper coupon checks.
As a result, I learned that a healthy mom makes healthy milk. I learned that my daughter's belly wasn't bigger than her fist. I learned that milk, cheese, peanut butter, eggs and legumes contained protein, so the inability to afford meat didn't mean she wasn't getting any. I learned how to rinse and cook dried beans, which I'd never seen before. I learned the difference between "100% Juice" and "Made with 100% Juice." I laughed watching my daughter pick Cheerios and Kix up off the table with her tongue. I still buy bags of beans. I will never, ever buy frozen concentrated juice in a can. Ever.
WIC is a great program, offering both food and education. I didn't ever really reflect on what I learned from the WIC help. I never thanked any one of the women I met with. I feel guilty that I can't call up the face of a single person I ever met with. Most likely because my own head was hung in shame during the meetings. But, all pride aside, I really needed it and I'm really grateful it was an option for me and my daughter.
In case you're wondering what I've done to make up for the Massachusetts tax dollars spent helping to feed us during those years, I can assure you that the help I accepted has not been forgotten and was not accepted lightly. I've filled many a food pantry shelf. I've Walked for Hunger. I've organized fundraising and food drive projects and I've involved my children. I've volunteered and I've donated. A lot.
Love, Heidi...the-almost-40-year-old, six-figure-earning, mother-of-a-healthy-and-well-fed-23-year-old-girl-who-spent-her-early-years-dipping-bananas-in-WIC-funded-Cheerios-washed-down-with-a-sippy-cup-filled-with-100%-juice...also provided by WIC.
This is a photo of Heidi. If I get her permission to post one of her at the age she was using WIC, or with her girls now, I'll add those. Until then, this is one she's allowed me to share. 
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