As breastfeeding rates rise across the United States, a growing number of American mothers are turning surplus breast milk into income—some earning up to $1,000 a month by selling it through unregulated online platforms. According to a recent report by The Times UK, this informal breast milk trade is flourishing, fueled by shifting health trends, cultural changes, and a renewed skepticism toward infant formula.
Mothers like Emily Enger, a 33-year-old teacher from Minnesota and mother of five, are at the forefront of this movement. With each child, Enger became more adept at expressing milk, eventually producing so much that she began selling the excess. “I would pump from each side between eight to ten ounces extra each time,” she told The Times UK, explaining how she was producing nearly 100 extra ounces a day. Over time, Enger ended up supplying milk not just for her own children, but for over a dozen others as well.
While formula feeding dominated American parenting in the late 20th century, the tide is turning. The “Make America Healthy Again” (Maha) movement, championed by newly appointed Health Secretary Robert F. Kennedy Jr., has shifted public discourse in favor of breastfeeding. His recent call to reassess the nutritional value of baby formula has prompted more mothers to seek out natural alternatives, including human milk from other women.
The appeal is strong, particularly for mothers who cannot breastfeed due to medical or physiological reasons. Facebook groups like Breastmilk Community for All—which boasts over 33,000 members—are filled with pleas from mothers willing to pay high prices for milk from strangers. Briana Westland, a 36-year-old mother from Fort Lauderdale, Florida, spends roughly $1,200 a month buying breast milk for her daughter. “You can’t beat the nutritional quality of human milk,” she said.
The demand spiked during the 2022 baby formula crisis, when a major Abbott Nutrition plant was shut down over contamination concerns. Many parents, suddenly unable to find formula on shelves, turned to the online breast milk community out of necessity.
Despite its growing popularity, the trade remains largely unregulated. The U.S. Food and Drug Administration discourages the informal sale of human milk due to health risks, though it is not illegal. Buyers often rely on trust, or at best, informal disclosures about the seller’s health and lifestyle, such as diet, vaccination status, or whether they consume alcohol or tobacco. Some Maha supporters, wary of pharmaceutical interventions, even prefer milk from unvaccinated mothers.
Enger acknowledges the health concerns but believes that the labor and time invested in producing milk should be compensated. “You go to the store and buy a gallon of milk or formula,” she said. “You can’t go into a hair salon and expect a free haircut. Time and, literally, energy has gone into producing milk. That should be valued.”
Though some believe breast milk should be donated to hospitals or milk banks, others, like Enger, argue that the physical toll and round-the-clock pumping make compensation fair. She typically pumps every three hours—day and night—and sees the income as a necessary supplement to her teacher’s salary.
In many cultures, including in Arab and Muslim communities, the act of nursing another’s child carries deep social meaning. Children who have shared the same milk are considered “milk siblings.” For Enger, that connection resonates. “I’ve stayed in touch with many of the mothers,” she said. “Some of the children have grown up alongside mine. There’s something beautiful about that.”
While the practice raises questions about safety, regulation, and ethics, the growing underground breast milk market shows no signs of slowing. For many families, it reflects a larger shift: one where food, health, and motherhood are increasingly driven by personal choice—and sometimes, economic necessity.
