Whenever the topic of raw milk arises in our house (which happens more often than you might expect) my boyfriend is invariably inclined to relate the story of how his own family came to join the raw milk movement. It began when his mother took his younger sister to a local pediatrician to treat whooping cough.
To her surprise, the doctor did not immediately whip out his prescription pad and start scribbling, but instead asked if her family drank milk. When she answered yes, he proceeded to inquire as to whether it was raw milk. To this she answered no, and was promptly sent away without any prescription, but instead with this piece of wisdom: if you’re not drinking raw milk, then that’s likely why you’re sick; if you are drinking raw milk, and you still get sick, then something is wrong with you.
Shortly thereafter, the entire family made the switch to farm fresh raw milk, delivered by a local dairy. For the three years that they drank it, there was not a single instance of illness in the house. Within months of their switching back to ordinary milk, they all fell ill. Continue reading