He’s 13 months old. He nurses less and less. He would drink more if I let him, but today he just nursed before bed. I stopped pumping right after his first birthday. He kept breastfeeding each day before naps and bed, but we’re doing it less. His big sister stopped at 13 months. I remember being a little sad, but I was okay. Time marched on. I would have another baby. No biggie. It was actually nice to have my body be my own again.

This time I’m sad.

This might be my last baby. All the infant milestones have been a little more bittersweet with the second baby, but this one hurts.

What if this is the last time I ever nurse one of my babies? This might be it. It may be over. I may never be pregnant again. I may never snuggle my sleepy newborn or snuggle my round little infant as they suckle.

If I stop nursing him, will he still want to snuggle with me? Maybe. Maybe not. Everyday I steal kisses and snuggles in “catch and release” style as he wobbles toward toddlerhood.

Part of me is ready to be done breastfeeding. He has a mouth full of teeth and vigorous kicking legs. But, the other part of me looks into his eyes that are turning a darker shade of blue into the green of my own and I want to hold him tighter. I cradle a baby that is (kind of) calm when he nurses. He smiles with coos and grunts that make us both giggle. Those times are ours alone, and they are numbered.

I don’t know when the last time I nurse him will be. I don’t remember the exact last time with my daughter. I just know it’s coming soon.

Instead of mourning the time gone, I’m trying to be thankful for being able to successfully breastfeed two healthy babies. I know not all mothers get that. I’m thankful that breastfeeding was a mostly positive experience for me.

This just marks the end of infancy. I am excited for what is to come. I am. I’m just bracing my heart for more milestones that may be a little bittersweet.

Alright. I’m bucking up. I’m looking into their little faces and being excited and thankful. I can do this. It’s almost time for the last time, and that’s okay. Writing this makes me feel better. Time marches on. Ah, motherhood! It is bittersweet.

I wonder if anyone has loved cake quite like this. Yeah, It was buttercream.

We’re preparing for Henry’s baby dedication tomorrow. For those of other faiths, that’s the Baptist equivalent of a christening/baptism for a baby. I totally meant to do it when he was younger, before his first birthday, but we just joined a new church. Tomorrow we are having a family celebration for the kids’ birthdays after the service.  (They are 4 and 1 this week if you haven’t followed all my nauseating activity on social media.)

First birthday. Baby dedication. I clean the house and feed everyone once. Boom. It’s a beautiful thing. I picked up the cake today. I just posted this on Instagram:

FYI, Harris Teeter is our local grocery store. You know, looking at it now, the baker probably just started his name too far over and needed to fill the space. Whatever.

Greyson says, “Um, why did you get a cross cake? You make us look like zealots or something.” I’ll admit. There is a hint of piousness mixed in that icing. I’m not one for Bible beating or forcing my faith through food or any other means. I just got your standard cake from the grocery store bakery under the “Baptism/Christening/Communion” designs.

Charlotte’s cake for her baby dedication was from a specialty bakery and had her monogram on it. Oh, and it must have been made with holy water and had edible gold flecks in the fondant for the outlandish price I paid. Screw that. I’m not buying that again. Poor second child. He gets grocery store cake.

I will say, there are two things I will NOT STAND FOR when it comes to cake.

1. Almond flavoring- Remember how old-school wedding cakes were RUINED by that stuff? Ugh! It makes it taste like Dr. Pepper. Dr. Pepper is the devils brew. Speaking of the devil…

2. Whipped icing- At the bakery they asked me if I wanted whipped or buttercream icing. Why would you even ask me that?! I would never subject my sweet babies to whipped icing on their birthdays. It’s “icing lite.” It’s crap. If I’m eating cake, I want cake, not “cake lite.” Beth Anne said it best, “Whipped icing is the devil’s baby batter.”

So true. Lord knows the devil has no place on my holy rolling cake. Can I get an “Amen?”

Recently I squealed and hugged my way through an intimate crowd of old friends at a baby shower. I’ve known the mom-to-be since she and my sister were babies. I had my 11-month-old in tow. I was so excited to see my sister and nephew, who came to town for the affair. My nephew is 8 1/2 months old.  My mom was happy to have her two baby grandsons crawling at everyone’s feet.

Well, my son was at everyone’s feet. He was at their feet, playing with their shoes, on their purses, reaching for their cell phones, pulling up on their chairs and generally causing a ruckus, albeit an adorable ruckus. Most at the shower didn’t seem to mind him. My mom could help me  by holding him or entertaining him while I ate or played the shower games.

My nephew mostly sat pleasantly with my sister. He laid quietly next to her smiling. Yes, he can crawl too. He can also pull up. He’s about the same size as my son. But, he sat and mine squirmed.

My mom and her friend heard me quip to my son, “Hey, you see how your cousin is just sitting there? Why can’t you be like that?” My mom said, “Amy! You shouldn’t say that and compare them like that!” Her friend agreed. I felt my face get hot. I held my little guy tight against my flushed cheek. I whispered, “Sorry buddy.”

On the way home from the shower I had an epic crisis of conscience. How could I have done that to my baby?! Just because the cousins are close in age, it doesn’t mean they need to be compared. They are individuals. I need to watch the comments I make, even in jest. I need to talk to my sister about guidelines for how we will treat the boys equally but as individuals. I drafted a heartfelt blog post in my head as I drove.

I got home and told my husband what happened. I explained my intense shame and how I was damaging my son’s psyche. He said, “Are you kidding me?! Please! Amy, the amount of time you have spent worrying about this is too much. They are babies! He will never remember you said that.” True it’s not like we’re going to line them up and have them crawl race at family gatherings.  He laughed and hugged me. “Seriously. It was a complement to your sister on how sweet her baby is. Don’t sweat it.”

Here’s the thing. They’re both right. I need to watch what I say to my children. I need to understand that jokes and off-the-cuff comments can hurt. But, I also do NOT need to have guilt ridden meltdowns for every parenting faux pas I commit. Let’s face it, I know I will say or do something insanely insensitive and stupid again. Then I will write about it on the Internet.

In all seriousness, how do families quell comparisons between children close in age? Cousins, siblings, or even good friends with kids the same age. It’s very natural to compare. How do you either avoid it, or compare with compassion if that’s possible? 

When I was pregnant with my first baby, my favorite thing about decorating her nursery was finding the perfect crib set. I mean, the overpriced, matching bedding is what the nursery is all about, right? Your tiny person has to come home to a cushy, finished room worthy of your expectant friends pinning to their “Future Nursery” boards on Pinterest.

I followed the guidelines about no “pillowlike” bumpers to avoid suffocation. Her bumpers were more “quilt-like” and tied tight to the sides. They were on her crib for most of her first year.

Then the American Academy of Pediatrics came out with new guidelines saying, and I’m paraphrasing here, “No bumpers!!! Your infant will die!!!!” I promptly untied those baby killers and stashed them in the closet. She was an older infant at that point. We had already dropped her crib down. What happened next, I didn’t expect.

The thrashing! My God the thrashing! She was a mobile, rolling, crawling baby, even in her sleep. We would hear bangs and bumps, then the occasional cry over the monitor in the middle of the night. We would go get her in the morning and her feet would be wedged between the bars of the crib. I suddenly understood the need for bumpers, even though her crib met the safety guidelines for proper for crib bar spacing. How foolish of me to believe bumpers were just aesthetic.

Okay, so crib bumpers are a suffocation danger and the ties pose a strangulation threat, but if you don’t have bumpers your kid will bang into the side of the crib at night?

So, when I had my second baby I weighed the pros and cons and went ahead and got my son a full crib set with bumpers. Again, they were quilt-like and tied tight to the crib. The ties are not long enough to go around a throat, just a crib bar. The bumpers looked adorable and posed no hazard that I could see. No hazard until the night his face got close to the bumper and I freaked. He was too little to roll over at that point and I didn’t want his face so close to the bumper. SIDS! Ah! I couldn’t sleep. I tiptoed around his crib and took them off that night. I put them back on in the morning. I did the same the next day. Hey, I paid for the second baby’s bumpers. I didn’t get them at a baby shower, so I was going to use them! The on and off got old real fast.

By the time he was rolling over and crawling, I figured he was big enough to move his face away from a thin bumper and I left them on all the time. I watched him. He was fine. It wasn’t a problem. Then he started pulling up and we lowered the mattress. Pulling up means he pulled the bumpers down or off or used them as a pillow. I also heard of babies using them to step up on and subsequently flip out of the crib. I took them out. He’s 10-months-old now.

I kid you not, the day I am writing this he starts screaming when I put him down for his nap. I go up there to check it out and his leg is wedged through the bars, up to his thigh. He couldn’t pull his knee through. Poor little guy. He was all traumatized and weepy when I rescued him.

So, that leaves me to wonder if I should put the bumpers back on. Do I need to buy the mesh bumpers? (Please say “no.” I’m not a fan.) What’s your take on this?

• Did you use crib bumpers at all? What type?
• How long did you leave them on?
• Did your child ever get hurt from having bumpers on his/her crib? Did they get hurt NOT having bumpers on their crib?