15-Month Check-Up & Bye-Bye Bottles

Every time I take my kids to the doctor (or have a parent/teacher conference), I feel like I'm getting a report card. I always liked report card time. I was a really good student - always well-behaved, and I always tried my best. My dad's motto was: "Another day, Another A." My mom's was: "Behavior's a must, and grades are a plus." So, I was pretty well-rounded. I always worked hard to get good grades, so I liked to have feedback and praise from my teachers and from my parents about my work. Now that I'm a grown-up and rarely get "graded," I feel like my parenting skills and how my kids are thriving are part of my check-up, a reflection on how I am raising my kids, keeping them healthy, and handling the pressures and changes of my kids getting older.

Yesterday was Quinn's 15-month check-up with Dr. B. We got some great feedback - as well as a slap on the wrist - from Dr. B... and I fully expected everything he said. The best news is that Quinn is healthy and developing exactly as he should - if not a little ahead of what is expected. We are always grateful to hear that our boys' exams are great. I definitely don't take their health for granted, so having everything check out is always a relief.

His current stats are:

• Weight: 24 pounds, 12 ounces = 55th percentile
• Height: 31.75 inches = 75th percentile
• Head: 47.4 cm = 50th percentile

Developmentally, Quinn is scoring between a 16.5-month-old and a 19-month-old. Mostly, he's quite verbal for his age. The expectation is 3 words (not including Mama, Dada, and other names), but Quinn has a vocabulary of 20 words right now. Dr. B asked me if I knew how many words he was supposed to have, and I said, "Yes, 3." He said, "Yes, we've been through this with Banner." What can I say? I have verbal kids! As with Banner's 15-month check-up, I wasn't sure he believed me, but Dr. B also heard Quinn say several words while we were in the exam room.

The "slap" came from the fact that Quinn still has two bottles a day. He refuses to drink milk from a cup, so in order to get his minimum of 16-ounces in each day, I give him 2 bottles - one in the morning and one at night... and he won't even finish those. He usually only gets about 12 ounces a day. Sam and I laughed when Dr. B's first question on his check-list of questions was: "Doing well drinking at least 16-ounces of whole milk from a cup?" We knew what was coming. He told us to quit the bottle that day. He said to put them all away and to only offer milk in a sippy cup - and not offer water at all - until Quinn learned to drink 16 ounces (or more) from a cup.

Because Quinn had a rough day with 2 shots and being poked and prodded, we decided to give him one more full day with his regular routine. He also doesn't feel well right now - he is very congested and his nose is like a faucet (which we reported to Dr. B, and we're now trying Flonase before bed).

So, tonight was Quinn's official last bottle. Sam gave him his last morning bottle, and I gave him his last night bottle. I rocked my baby and reflected on his first feedings in the hospital. I thought about all the little 2-ounce Similac bottles (with the little tan nipples) we opened in the hospital after deciding not to breastfeed after only 3 days. I remembered random moments of giving him his bottles - singing to him, humming to him while we listened to "My, My Love" playing on my iPhone, the early morning bottles on the couch - the two of us cuddling while the sun came up. I thought about all the mornings I fed him his bottle, wishing he'd hurry up so I could get Banner ready for school. I thought about the mornings all 4 of us would cuddle in bed while I snuggled Quinn as he drank his bottle. All the washings, the midnight wakings, the preparing of bottles, the buying of formula . . . all done for now. Quinn sucked and tapped his bottle while I sang "Old McDonald" and he would pause to try to say the animal sounds with me. Tears rolled down my face, and eventually, Quinn stopped sucking, signed "all done" with the usual 1 ounce of milk left, and then he turned to look at me. He saw my tears, and he rotated his body to rest his head on my shoulder. He touched my tears, and then he "laid keppe" again on my shoulder. We cuddled for a minute, and then I offered him one last sip - which he refused. Then, I told him that was his last bottle and to tell it "bye bye," so he waved to it and said, "Bye-bye. Nigh Nigh." And, that was that. We snuggled in the glider after I turned off the light - me reflecting on how fast my little one is growing up, knowing I'd long for these days of feeding my baby his bottle and this being his last one ever... and Quinn not having a clue that it's all being taken away from him from now on.

After I left his bedroom, I went to wash the bottle. Sam came in the kitchen while I was rinsing, and I told him I wanted to put all the bottles away so Quinn wouldn't see them anymore. As we put nipples and collars and bottle tops in baggies, I held back tears until I just needed a big hug from Sam. What if we never see these again? What if that was our last baby? How did that happen so fast? 15 months of bottles, and then none. My baby is growing up. Thank God my baby is growing up, and thank God for the extra counter space and cabinet space and dishwasher space... but how did that happen so fast? Those quiet nights of feeding my baby, nourishing him first thing in the morning, of the cuddle time as he ate... gone.

But, time moves on, and it's time to face our next challenge of getting this kid to take milk from a cup. For the first time in 15-months (and 8 days), there is no bottle waiting in the fridge ready to go for the next feeding. Tomorrow may be hell, but I'll be damned if I get a bad report card at his 18-month check-up!