It wasn’t extravagant—the decorations were from the dollar store, the cake from a box mix—but it was filled with love.

For the past two years, since my husband Michael’s hours were cut at the warehouse, life had been a tightrope walk of financial anxiety. I worked three part-time jobs, juggling shifts as a waitress, a dog walker, and a DoorDash driver after the kids were in bed. We had “ramen adventures” twice a week, a game I invented to make poverty feel like a choice. I skipped meals so the kids could have enough, and I sold my grandmother’s wedding ring to pay for Julie’s school supplies last fall.