I’ll never forget the two lines staring back at me. Learning that I was pregnant was accompanied by so many emotions that it was impossible to experience any feelings in isolation. I was happy, excited and scared all at once. In the months leading up to my due date, my husband and I did all we could to prepare. We sought new jobs, bought a home, painted our daughter’s room, researched strollers and tried to prepare for every contingency.

We knew we’d have to learn as we went. We knew we’d have to buckle down and budget our money. We prepared for many sleepless nights. I know it’s cliché to say that nothing can prepare you to be a parent. Still, I could never have anticipated being unable to buy formula for my newborn.

When I first saw the empty shelves, I thought it was a fluke. Perhaps there had been a mix-up at the store. There hadn’t been. Store after store, the story was the same — empty shelves. I made no progress and returned home empty-handed. I didn’t understand. How could every store be out of formula? We were down to our last can, and I was beginning to worry that I wouldn’t be able to feed our child.

I began searching Facebook marketplace and the KSL classifieds. The people with formula to spare were taking advantage of the crisis and selling it at exorbitant markups. I picked up the phone and called everyone I knew. I asked them to keep an eye out for formula and that I’d be happy to reimburse them and pick it up if they were successful.

Finding formula became an everyday endeavor. The stress accumulated as weeks turned into months. I remember venting my frustrations to a friend over the phone. They were living in Europe then and were shocked that we could not find formula. No one there was experiencing a shortage where they lived. Their shelves were stocked.

I couldn’t believe this. I wanted to know something was being done to fix the problem. I have never been politically active. I’m usually one to tune out when the conversation turns to politics. But from all I could tell, only the United States was experiencing this shortage. What was our government doing to fix it?

For the first time in my life, the political became personal. My Mama bear mode kicked in, and I was going to get some answers. I went online and found out who my congressman was. After speaking to his intern, he informed me that the congressman shared my concerns and that they’d be sure to pass my comments along.

I called my Senator, and I finally received an answer to my surprise. After calling Sen. Mike Lee’s office, I learned he had introduced a bill called the Formula Act.

After a few minutes on the phone with his staff, I learned that the government taxes formula imported into the United States at a high rate. Sen. Lee’s bill would suspend that tax and ease labeling restrictions that preclude many European formulas from being imported. All of this seemed to be common sense. How could we be making it more difficult to buy formula when the shelves were literally empty?

I was grateful that my elected official was doing something to ease the crisis. From the time I learned of the bill, I tracked its progress. I brushed off my Schoolhouse Rock and remembered the slow process before a bill becomes law. It seemed like there was hearing after hearing. When the bill was finally up for a vote, I remember watching on CSPAN as Sen. Lee pleaded with his colleagues to pass the bill. I couldn’t believe my ears when a senator objected to it. How could you object to this bill? Sen. Lee said he was not giving up and would be back to try and pass his bill. I followed up with his office to ensure he kept his promise.

I remember finally seeing the news that Sen. Lee had passed his bill and that it was heading to the president’s desk. For the first time since I encountered empty shelves, I felt there was progress. I hope that Sen. Lee’s bill will ease the shortage and anxiety many mothers have been dealing with for far too long. Having followed the process, I’m grateful that Sen. Lee never gave up. I hope this crisis is a wake-up call to reform the system that allowed this to occur in the first place.

Morgann Brough Petersen, 21, is a student at Weber State University. She lives with her husband and daughter in Clinton.

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