Dear Fellow Shopper, (a letter from a WIC mom)

Dear fellow shopper,

I know you can't see it, but as I put my vegetables on the belt, I feel my heart race and the blood rush to my face in embarassment.  I can hear your sigh, and I can see you are contemplating switching lines.  Inside I'm praying that you find a shorter line, get your shopping done quickly, and that no one else comes up in my line behind me.  My stomach is in knots knowing I'm slowing down the lines, and I'm certain that I'm the cashier's least favorite type of customer.

I use WIC.  Women, Infants, and Children is an amazing program that has done so much for my family.  I know that all you see of this program is a family taking too long in the grocery store to buy some milk and bread.  I know you think these small food items are not worth the time, but to me they are.  I know you assume we are "mooching off the government."  I'm sure you are rolling your eyes right now and making comments because you assume we don't work and feel entitled to help for our kids, that you probably believe we never should have had.  I once thought these things too.

I was pregnant with my first son in 2011.  We were newly weds and wanted to have a baby right away, and I immediately fell pregnant the first month we tried.  We were both working and were fairly established, and had all our pieces together.  Then one day, I was playing cards at my dads house and I felt something wet, like I peed myself.  Embarassed, I stood up and went in full panic mode when I saw blood on his carpet.  He lived two doors down from me, so I ran home, got on the toilet, and called my mom sobbing.  I then called my midwife who told me to prepare for the worst, take it easy, because this was probably [another] miscarriage.  I was crushed, and so confused, I felt my baby kicking at me and I really didn't know what to think.  All I knew was my baby was alive and I was going to fight for this little life.  The next day the bleeding got worse, and I begged my midwife for a sonogram against her judgement.  She called me a few hours later to tell me that I had placenta previa and that I really needed to rest.  Essentially my placenta was tearing and my baby was at risk based on the amount of blood loss.  I called my work to tell them I needed to go on bed rest until the placenta moved, if it moved.  Due to miscommunication on the phone, they thought I was quitting my job, and I was replaced at my work.  So now, I have a baby on the way, maybe, bills, rent, and an upcoming birth to pay for and I just lost half our family's income.  At the time I did not care, I was only worried about being put on strict bed rest and praying my baby was going to make it.

My pregnancy progressed and things started to look good.  My placenta moved and everything was going healthy.  We adjusted our bills so that we could live on one income, but things were really really tight.  I was caught between wanting to find another job as flexible as I had, and wanting to be a stay at home mom.  We decided we were going to do everything we could for me to stay home full time.  We couldn't afford daycare, and I wanted to raise our baby full time. We were still financially strapped the last few weeks of my pregnancy and I was still trying to collect those last minute items for baby.  I really wanted a breast pump and a friend told me our local WIC had some free ones available.  I went down to the office, asking for a breast pump, and upon arriving I was presented with so many resources and next thing I knew they were signing me up for the whole program.  WIC has many classes, breastfeeding help, free clothes, car seat programs, and free food checks.  As they were signing me up I was thinking "I really don't need all this, I just want a pump", but I took my folder home and it sat there, unused, for a while.

One night, while on bed rest, it started to rain.  I finally got out of the house for dinner at my parent's, and upon returning home we find our roof in our apartment collapsed.  The next few weeks, I had to sit in our apartment while they fixed the roof: power tools, ladders, dust, and all.  Finally, everything was cleaned up, just in time for another rain, another collapse, and another week of repairs.  Frustrated, I went to my apartment managers and requested a new apartment.  The only one available was across the way and it was an increase in rent.  It was going to take every penny we had to our name to move into this apartment and we would have NO extra money at the end of the month.  Our financial situation in a very short time went from very comfortable to absolutely broke.  We had to take the apartment, and a few days later a family member moved in with us, raising our bills.  We had a car break down, some unexpected bills come through, some of our property stolen, our bank made some clerical errors, some debt to pay,  and suddenly that WIC folder on my counter looked like HOPE.  That night, I filled my cupboards: fruit, vegetables, cereal, bread, milk, eggs, beans, peanut butter...  So grateful.

I never thought I'd be in the position of needing this, but here I was, I needed it.

My son was born, and we went to our first post partum WIC appointment.  They weighed him, asked me dietary questions, and then asked me how breastfeeding was going.  I almost wanted to cry.  "I'm trying and trying, but I have blisters and blood every where and I almost want to give up!"  Immediately, they called in a lactation counselor from down the hall and she started working with me.  Again, WIC left me full of hope and feeling supported.  The best thing that happened that day was getting a hug from that woman as she whispered in my ear "you are a good mom, things are going to get easier!"

Financially, things got easier over the next few months and I found myself not using my WIC checks.  I still attended meetings, breastfeeding support groups, car seat trainings, and sometimes I would just stop in to see how my baby was growing.  The ladies there know me and my kids by name, and they have become my little safe village.  I have now been a part of the WIC system off and on for 3 years.  Anytime my husband's income dips below the line, I know I can rest assured that my kids will be fed.  I don't always use my checks.  If we don't need the help, then I don't use the resource.  However, WIC has been so much more to my family than just food.  They have been my absolute biggest support system as a mom.  I cried on a workers shoulder for an hour after a miscarriage, they help me adjust my diet for my health issues, they provide me with pumps and pump parts for donating my milk, they encourage me to long-term breastfeed, they helped me find resources for my son's mental health, they helped me find an oral surgeon for my son, they help me with my car seats, they ask ME how I'm doing and they love my kids!  They help me be a better mom.

I can never repay these workers for what they have done for my family.  And I should not feel ashamed for using resources that are available to me that have bettered me as a person.  They have given me a sense of community and they have helped me help myself.  WIC is not a program that you can "mooch" off.  They help you get back on your feet.  They help you the first few years of your child's life, and encourage you to find your wings to fly.  They have advice on school and career paths, how to budget, and how to stay healthy.  So when you see that purple folder in my hand while you're in line, please don't judge me.  Instead, be grateful that our government is funding a program to help families thrive.  Rest assured that your tax dollars that you are so concerned about is, in that moment, being used to help a family trying their hardest to succeed.  Appreciate that it takes a lot for me to humble myself enough to accept this help for my kids.

I understand that you want to get your shopping done quickly, but let's be honest.  If you were on such a tight time schedule, you would not have chosen Wal-Mart at 8pm to fill your cart with DVDs, bathing suits, and art supplies.  So, instead of huffing and puffing behind me, glaring at me, and making snide comments about my life, wouldn't it be better for everyone if you instead just kindly, and quietly, switched to another line?  Or better yet, since you see that I have an upset toddler in the cart, and a fussy baby strapped to my back, and I'm digging for my wallet, you could offer to help put my groceries on the belt.  You could compliment my kids, and tell me to have a nice day, and understand that I'm humiliated enough, I don't need another mom making me feel like a failure.  I can see how much you love your kids, and I know if you were in the same situation as me, you would go to the end of the world to make sure their basic needs are met.  Try to understand that's all I am doing, and stop treating me as if 10 extra minutes at the check out has absolutely ruined your day.  Maybe fate brought you to this line, and maybe those 10 extra minutes would save you from a car accident.  Maybe fate brought you to my line so you could bless me with kindness.  Maybe fate brought you to my line because my son would tell you about his batman shirt and be entertained for a few moments while I put my bags into my cart.

By tomorrow, you probably wont remember me, or that I seemed to affect your day so negatively in that moment, but I remember you.  I think of your face every time I go shopping and I contemplate whether or not I really want to use my checks.  My stomach ties itself in knots in fear that someone like you will roll up in line behind me.  I fear every time that my son will hear your comments and wonder what his mom is doing wrong.  I will always remember you.  I took a few minutes out of your day, but I will remember how you made me feel for the rest of my life.

I hope, by fate, you will come across this letter.  I hope when you read it you will remember that kindness always wins.  We are all on the same team...trying to make it through life and be good moms.  I hope next time you get in line behind a WIC mom you find it in your heart to bless her with a reassuring smile.  I hope that next time you can treat someone with the same amount of respect you would want.  Love goes so far.

Happy shopping!

I nursed my best friend's baby.

Our Milk Sharing Project.
Please read all the way through to both stories.

 I was about to hand over my baby to my best friend, and I was flooded with memories of where we started. I met Haley in 8th grade.  We were obsessed with Freddie Mercury, lipstick, and Myspace.  We were so different but so the same.  We had passion, empathy, and were convinced that we would change the world.  Those are the things that never changed.  Our friendship always seemed like fate.  I always had an overwhelming feeling that I needed Haley.  Time went on and it always seemed like we were living mirror lives.  We both married our high school sweethearts at 18, and our first babies were 9 months apart.  We were on spiritual and political journeys together and always looking for new answers. 

 I remember sitting in a restaurant with Haley when her daughter, Amelia was only a few weeks

Tucker & Amelia

old.  I had just found out I was pregnant and we were catching up on life.  She nursed Amelia, something I never thought twice about, but afterwards she pulled out a bottle and asked me if I wanted to feed her.  I was fumbly, and had no idea what I was doing.  She was the first baby I had ever bottle fed.  I come from a family full of breast feeders.  I always knew breastfeeding would be a part of my life, but in that moment I remember looking at that bottle and thinking "oh how weird, of course babies use bottles, but why had I never thought about them before?"  Thinking of the baby inside me, I had a moment of panic.  "Do I need to buy bottles?  I have no idea how all this works!"  Haley looked up at me and said "I have supply issues and have to supplement."  Again, I had no idea what she was talking about.  It was in that moment that I realized that I had a lot of reading to do.  I went home that night and researched all that I could.  I was seeing articles about women being kicked out of stores for nursing their babies.  I saw controversy over weaning, formula, and nipple shields.  I had been so ignorant and naive.  I had no idea these issues were even issues.  There was a whole mommy online community and I dove right in.  I met amazing women, learned so much, and began to form very strong opinions on all the hot topics.  I was that mom that had decided to breastfeed and nothing was going to get in my way.  I had no reason to believe I'd have supply issues, or reasons to pump, or even pain.  My baby came and I had information, a support system, a lactation consultant, and yes, I had breastfeeding issues.  I had flat and inverted nipples that caused immense pain, blisters, bleeding, and tearing.  I dealt with lip and tongue ties that were misdiagnosed as reflux issues.  Immediately the pressure to switch to bottles was on me.  I was exhausted and frustrated, but my need to be right about everything was stronger than my need to sleep.  I pushed through and a few weeks later things eased up.  I had milk flowing all over the place, latch issues had been fixed, and I had begun pumping to donate.  I preached breastfeeding education, attended mommy groups, and proudly nursed my baby anywhere and everywhere.  I really chalked up everyone's issues to a lack of education and support.

Months passed, and Haley and I decided to go in on a pregnancy pact.  We were both wanting second babies, and what a great idea it was to get pregnant together!  Haley was by my side through 12 months of fertility issues, a miscarriage, and nursing while pregnant.  She was my rock.  Finally I got pregnant, and she was only 12 weeks behind me.  We talked about all the possibilities of the outcomes of our pregnancies, births, and breastfeeding.  I asked her to be my kid's God mother, I asked her to nurse my baby if I had died, and of course I asked her to photograph my upcoming birth.  I had a beautiful, successful, home birth, and I continued to tandem nurse my boys.  Again, I had an abundance of milk, and it all came pretty naturally to me, especially with all the experience I had with my older son.  We quickly diagnosed and revised this baby's tongue and lip ties, got through a case of mastitis, and began to pump to donate again.  It was Haley's turn.  I sped to the hospital at 3am to meet her newest little!  I watched her latch him on and get settled and I left to let the family bond.  A few days later I met her at her house to spend some time with her.  I walked in and saw her nursing Elliott with pure exhaustion on her face.  She was so determined this time to make her breastfeeding journey happen with no interventions.  With frustration in her voice she said "He wont get off my boob...all day!  all night!"  I responded with "well, just hang in there, it's always tough those first few weeks."  I decided to sit and observe the entire picture for a while.  She was clearly making milk, she could express some out, and he was gulping and eating.  We talked about his weight gain and diaper changes and something just didn't seem right, but this was way out of my league of knowledge.  She decided it was time to get some help.  Elliott was failing to thrive.

I got a call a few days later.  "My heart is broken.  I have breast hypoplasia."  My heart broke for her.  I had a hundred questions, but I couldn't cry for her.  I immediately went into "fix-it" mode.  There HAS to be a solution.  Our bodies were made for this.  That's when it hit me.  Everything I had believed had shifted.  My sanciti-mommy idea of "nature has made it this way" changed to "nature sometimes messes up".  The sadness in my best friend's voice left me shaken.  I was not going to leave her alone in this.  I immediately started pumping for Elliott.  She gladly took my milk, and I watched our community of friends wrap around her and she was getting love, support, and spare milk.  This is how it was meant to be.  Women loving women.  We went back to that tribal mentality of "it takes a village."  The village is there to balance out nature's mistakes.  One has what another lacks.  The Yin to the Yang.  If we were all perfect, we would never need each other, and God intends for us to work together.

The years of being friends we were always trying to break social stigmas.  We worked hard to promote love, community, peace, honesty, and equality.  This milk sharing relationship just brought us closer.  I felt a love for Elliott that I had never felt for someone else's child.  I was nourishing his little body and I loved it.  We promoted our milk sharing friendship in mommy groups and social media.  We heard so many different things from different people.  "Wow, I never thought of using donor milk!"  "Isn't that a little gross?"  "I'd pump for a baby, I guess that's better than wet nursing!"

Why was there so much controvery?  What if we weren't so selfish with our milk?  What if we fed each other babies all the time?  I grew angry at the changes in society in the last few generations.  We now live in a world where a working mother has to struggle to pump on short lunch breaks and pray that she has enough for her baby in day care.  We live in a world where it's more normal to make a mixture in a bottle for your baby rather than let another mom help.  I was not okay with this, and neither was Haley.  We began talking about wet-nursing one another's babies.  Would this be weird?  It was weird, but it was weird because we had never seen it before.  Everything is strange before we experience it ourselves.  We wanted to normalize this too.  We decided that we would have this event photographed and documented.  We were going to share this with everyone we knew.

Here I was, about to hand my baby to my best friend to nurse.  This baby that I grew, birthed, and had solely nourished myself.  I had a mixture of feelings of jealousy, love, confusion, nerves, and peace.  This was meant to happen.  God put us here for this.  Everything in this moment made sense.  I got pregnant 12 weeks before her so I'd have an established supply by the time she needed my milk.  I had an over supply because she didn't have enough.  I met her in 8th grade because one day we were going to change the world together.  Haley and I are soulmates and I believe that to my core.  I could write a book on how our friendship is based on fate.  I can do this.  I can share my body with someone else's baby.  I can share this bond that was meant for my babies.  I can break this weirdness.  I can love my best friend's baby.

So we looked into one anothers eyes and we swapped babies.  We sat down and pulled our breasts out.  I wondered what Haley was thinking as she was looking at my baby.  I wondered the whole time if he was okay, if he would latch, if he would be confused.  I looked at tiny Elliott.  It's amazing the difference 12 weeks makes in development.  I was working hard to get him to latch.  He could smell that I was different I'm sure, and I was fumbly as it had been a while since I nursed a baby that still needed help latching.  I was surprised that this wasn't weird for me.  I thought I might have experienced some aversion, but all I saw was a little baby that was hungry.  He latched on and he still had a newborn suckle and I melted a little bit inside.  This is okay.  This was good.  I could hear my baby next to me needing me though, and my instinct was to go to him.  I don't think I could ever love someone else's baby the way I love mine, but in that moment Elliott came close. 

Amber wetnursing Elliott

Elliott & Forest

 I love the connection that breastfeeding has between mother and baby.  I loved that I got to experience a glimpse of that with Elliott.  I love that Forest got to experience an intimate moment with my best friend.  I love that Haley and I are forever milk sisters, and Elliott and Forest are forever milk brothers.  I love the piece of us that we all carry with each other.  I love that our older children, Tucker and Amelia, got to witness this and never even questioned it.  I love that we are forming gentle and natural futures for all our children.  I love that we are forever family.

Pumping for Elliott

After our photo shoot we sat around and we pumped milk together, and Tucker helped bottle feed Elliott for the first time.  Every family is so different, and I love that my son is seeing a variety of parenting styles and understanding that moms are meant to work together.  He recently told me with no question in his voice that he saw that some babies use bottles and some babies have boobies.  I love that he observes these things.  I love that he sees that some

Bottle Feeding Elliott

families do things differently and he didn't even think to judge, question, or critique the situation.  Sometimes I think I can learn a thing or two from my 3 year old.

 


Overall I'm so pleased with this experience.  Yes, I did this just to prove a point.  No, we did not HAVE to wet nurse.  But, there is a woman out there who needs the courage to do what we did, on either end.  There is a baby out there hungry.  There is a desperate mom.  I believe a single drop in the ocean can change the weather.  So, if we helped one mom, one baby, then this entire experience helped change everything.  To that mom who needed their baby to be nursed by a friend while she was in surgery.  To that mom who couldn't pump enough for the baby sitter and needed her to nurse her baby.  To that mom with Breast Hypoplasia.  To the dad taking care of his baby after his wife died in labor.  To the adoptive mom.  To the mom who needed to take anti-depressants.  To the mom who needed a break.  Whatever your nursing journey has entailed, just keep on keeping on.  We are all on the same team.  Your journey is a personal one, a beautiful one, your own story.  Whatever your story, I hope your village has supported you and uplifted you.  To whoever you are, we did this for you.

- Amber

 
 
And here I stand… about to hand over my newborn to my best friend.
Amber has been a significant part of my life for a little over a decade now. Describing Amber isn’t very easy to do because there isn’t a stereotype that anyone could possibly lump her into. In my eyes she is goofy, offbeat, beautiful, honest, and most of all, she is deep. She has the ability to think outside the box as well as within. That’s unique and with that being said we easily bonded from the day we met. Our conversations consist of but aren’t limited to philosophy, politics, culture, how we will change the world, and most of all birth, babies, and boobies. We have always stood together as we have crushed social stigmas, as we did today. I have never cared for cultural norms because in my head, I could not possibly understand, what is defined as normal. We all have such different perceptions of the world. My vision of the future is the same as Amber’s vision. We want people to love, accept, and connect.
And here I stand… handing my newborn son to my best friend as I receive her son.
I lock eyes with her and there is a current, this current connects us. As mothers, as friends, as sisters. I quickly reminisce about a current event. The reason why we are standing here at this very moment. Amber has been nourishing my son since he was a week and a half old. I flash back to giving birth to him, the moment Amber first walked in and saw him, and the moment I learned that Elliott was failure to thrive (over a week later). The emotions, painful and beautiful, flooded my brain, causing a release of endorphins and oxytocin.
My son, the person I created, was failure to thrive. I breastfed early and I breastfed more than often. How was this so? I did everything right… How am I failing AGAIN? Amber encouraged me to keep trying and to keep seeing Sara (my friend and lactation consultant). She was as confused as I was. A couple of days later I saw Sara and the doctor. The information I received was devastating. I felt like someone tore my beating heart out of my chest. The pain to me was equivalent to someone close to me dying. I called Amber and broke it to her, while in tears. “I have breast hypoplasia and Insignificant glandular tissue”. This meant that I couldn’t exclusively breastfeed my son. This meant the body that created , grew, and nourished him for 9 months, could not fully do so anymore. Amber listened to me and sympathized, while feeling broken herself. “I will help feed him. What do you need? How much milk do you need?” she said without hesitation. This was an understanding that we mutually had for a while. We had agreed in the past, that if something were to happen to one of us that we would breastfeed each others children. This was the beginning of our milk sharing journey and just another bond we share, added to the list. 




And here I sit… looking into Forest’s eyes.
Forest. A baby that I am so connected with. I was there when he drew his first breath and I was about to nurse him. I felt butterflies, which made me feel anxious in my stomach, but my heart and mind were as calm and grounded as can be. This wasn’t weird. Amber’s children are my second set of children. Tucker and Amelia, our older children, played and danced around us as he latched. Forest nursed for only moments and he was done. I looked over to see Elliott nursing contently, with his little head bobbing as he suckled. This moment stood still for a moment, as I took it all in. I’m completely connected to Amber, she is my soul sister, but in this moment I had never been more connected.
We then nursed our own babies while lying in the grass. I smiled and laughed, as I enjoyed the

company of Rowan (who captured these lovely photos), Amber, and our children.
I can’t ever thank Amber enough. Her love for others radiates through her every pore. She loves me enough to do this for me, she loves my son enough to do this for him. I know how hard pumping is since it’s a vital part of my life to keep my supply up (along with nursing on demand). She pumps for my son, while balancing her busy life and nourishing her own babies.

 I only make an estimated 35-40% of what Elliott needs. This unity between Amber and I bound us and our sons together as milk sisters and brothers for life. This unity helped me heal in some ways.

Every ounce counts

I want everyone to know, that if you are healthy, it’s okay to milk share. It is not weird. It is not gross. It is beautiful. We need to connect as a community now, more than ever before. Don’t let our culture tell you it’s not okay because it is. Babies deserve to be breastfed. 

Elliott's donor milk from San Jose Milk Bank

I have a few other thank you comments to make. Thank you to my friend Heather for donating about 75 (or more) ounces to Elliott. Thank you to all the mothers who donate milk to others or milk banks (my son can’t have formula due to intolerance). Thank you, to Mother’s Milk Bank in San Jose, CA, for testing, processing, and sending milk to my son (and thank you for being non-profit). Thank you to every person who has provided me with comfort during this hard time (you know who you are). Thank you Sara Stone for helping me with my breastfeeding journey for the last 4 years and for finding my biological lactation issue.
This has been a spiritual journey for me. 

-Haley 







A special thank you to our local WIC for providing us with breast pumps, love, encouragement, information, and community.  Support your local WIC!
Thank you to our friends who have become our special village.
Thank you to our supportive husbands who held our hands during birth, cleaned our pump parts for us, and occasionally even rub our feet!
Thank you to the online mommy community for helping the entire breastfeeding cause.  Some days it feels like we know you all in real life.
Thank you to Rowan Price for capturing these beautiful photos and for your excitement for this project.


More photos from our wonderful day!