Minneapolis Moms Create Breastmilk Bank for Detained Mothers

A 3-month-old baby in Minneapolis hadn't eaten in a day and a half. Her mother had been detained by ICE on her way to work, leaving the infant and her 16-year-old sister alone at home.

The baby, who had only ever been breastfed, refused formula. The teenager called Bri, a local mom who had posted on social media that she could donate breastmilk along with other supplies for families in need.

Ninety minutes later, Bri arrived at their door with 350 ounces of frozen breastmilk, bottles, a warmer, and instructions. The screaming baby drank a full bottle and finally fell asleep.

Bri is what's called an overproducer. She can pump 45 ounces in a single morning and had stored about a thousand ounces in her freezer.

For nearly two months, she's been running an expanding donation network in Minneapolis. It started small but now serves hundreds of families whose parents are staying home to avoid immigration enforcement.

Most requests come from mothers who have never asked for help before. "The first line that a lot of these moms say when they call is, 'I've never asked for help, and the only reason why I'm asking for help is because I love my kids,'" Bri said.

She responds in Spanish: "Vergüenza robar, no pedir." Shame on those who steal, not those who ask for help.

So far, Bri and her network have delivered groceries to more than 500 families and diapers to over 300. Six additional breastfeeding moms have joined as donors, all certified through local hospitals to ensure safety.

The requests paint a picture of families in crisis. One mother asked for a single box of diapers because she'd been washing and reusing the few she had left. Parents ask for children's medications because they're too afraid to visit hospitals.

Bri includes small touches in her care packages. For the 16-year-old sister caring for the baby, she added colored pencils and a sketchbook.

Sunny's Take

Through community donations, Bri has covered four months of rent for the two sisters while their mother remains in detention in Texas. Every night after putting her own baby to sleep, she loads her trunk with supplies and drives across freezing Minneapolis roads until 10 p.m.

The streets are empty these days, she says. Routes that used to take an hour now take half the time because so few people are out.

But Bri keeps driving, one delivery at a time, proving that when systems fail families, neighbors can build their own.

"When one mom hurts, we are all hurting," she said.