A month ago, I gave birth to my daughter. Not long after, I discovered that every night my husband was secretly taking my b/rea/st milk to his mother’s house. I decided to follow him quietly one night. What I witnessed shook me deeply.

beginning to form—a reminder of the things that had been hidden from me.

And then there was Laura.

The guilt gnawed at me when I thought of her. She had been struggling with her newborn, silently suffering through sleepless nights and the agony of not being able to nourish her child the way she wanted to. I had thought I understood her pain before, but continue reading …