Sweet-N-Low

A large woman tipped up the alleyway. She caught sight of us and quickened her step, “’Scuse me ma’am, is that your daughter? Ma’am? Is that your daughter?”

I let go of Tracy’s hand and gestured that she should follow her father inside. The approaching woman struggled for breath as she rolled up the hill. “Ma’am, that your daughter?”

She stood in front of me now. “Yes?” I asked.

“Ohh.. maybe you can help me. You’re a mother too, maybe you’ll listen to me. No one else around here wants to listen. Maybe you’ll understand.” She planted her feet wide and began to cry until the skin around her eyes and nose darkened with moisture.

“Sure, what can I do for you?”

“It’s so hard….I’m a single mother….left my kids with my neighbor, knocked on all the doors in my building but nobody wants to listen. I don’t know what to do, been walking around for three hours…went down to that church on Dupont, but nobody there, up to 42nd and Lyndale, now somebody says there’s someplace on 31st that can help me, so that’s where I’m going now. But these places are all closed. I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

I shook my head sympathetically, “You need help finding a church on 31st?”

She choked back a sob and widened her eyes, “Ma’am, I got a three month old baby at home and she hasn’t eaten since last night. I don’t have anything to feed her. I just moved here, got out of an abusive relationship and I don’t have anything. I’m trying to get help, I’ve been calling everywhere, but they say I can’t have an appointment until Thursday.”

“Til Thursday?”

“My daughter, she uses Enfamil formula. I’m on this medication. That’s why I can’t breastfeed. They gave me some Enfamil formula and I’ve been trying to stretch it out, you know, by adding more water and all but he’s been taking care of her and using two scoops every time, feeding her every time she cries. ‘What’s wrong with you?’ I keep asking him, ‘Ever think to see if her diaper’s wet? Maybe she needs to be burped?’ But now she’s out of formula and she’s been crying all day. I don’t know what to do.”

The woman stared at me, then burst once more into tearful spasms. A string of snot escaped one nostril and she reeled forward to catch it in the hem of her shirt. She pulled the turquoise garment up to her face, revealing portions of her stomach and bra, and blew her nose.

“Ma’am, she hasn’t eaten anything since last night. I’ve been givin’ her water with a little Sweet-N-Low mixed in there for flavor.”

“You say she’s crying?”

“Ma’am. I can’t wait ‘til Thursday. I went and asked at the store, said I live just around the corner, but they won’t give me store credit. My neighbors told me if she keeps crying, they’re gonna call Child Protective Services and have my kids taken away from me.” Tears continued to stream down her cheeks, fatter and wetter than I’ve ever seen them on anybody.

“Stay here a sec, will you?” I said, “Lemme see what I can do.”

I ran into the house and filled a grocery bag up with food – mixed vegetables, soups, milk and cereal. I grabbed some diapers out of my daughter’s room and said, “Al, you got any cash?” In the hallway, I found my daughter’s old stroller and rushed outside again with my arms tumbling full, fearful that somehow the woman had wandered off.

“Need a stroller?” I asked, as I flipped it open and set the bag down on the seat, “there’s some food in here and diapers, some milk…” I handed her the five-dollar bill that Al had given me.

She looked at me incredulously, her face now swollen but dry. “You can’t buy formula for that. It costs seventeen dollars at the store!”

“But the milk..?”

“Milk? You’ve gotta be kidding me. Pediatrician said it’s got to be Enfamil. So she gets all her nutrition.”

The woman straightened out her shoulders and tipped back down the alley, pushing the stroller in front of her. I could see her shaking her head all the way.