I’m finding myself on the edge of my bed these days, wondering what limb I’m going to find wedged in between the crib bars when Chloe makes it known she has awakened from her slumber.

I can’t figure out why a bumperless bed is safer for my baby.

Before she falls asleep, she thrashes around the mattress, hitting her head, her face, new teeth up against the bars at least three times before waiting for the bell to ring, ending the round, rolling over and calling it a night. If she’s lucky, she wakes up with just the stripes from the bars indented on her face and no further wounds. I often wonder if she’s going to knock herself out completely but I guess the experts would rather a goose-egg or slight concussion than a fuzzy yellow duck encasing her like a nest made with love.

 Some days, she is sitting upright, legs dangling, pinched in between the bars. Yes, this is definitely better than her toes rubbing against a pink bunny pattern.  Other mornings, she is face down, attempting to crawl forward but once again, stuck, she lies screaming for help, pounding her fists in a tantrum we weren’t expecting until she was old enough to be told there will be no Justin Bieber poster sticking to her wall.

They keep changing the rules and whoever “they” are, I wish there was some consistency.

When Hanna was born, seven years ago, babies were to sleep on their tummies and always be surrounded by bumpers. The two subsequent children slept on their backs, one with bumpers, this one, without. Were we harming Hanna by letting her rest face down and so close to something soft and aesthetically appealing? Were we harming Ellie but laying her on her back, allowing her to reach out and stroke the soft fibres of the giraffe and baby lion, which by the way pulled the entire theme of the nursery together?

Chloe now appears to be in a cot you could find in a jail cell (fitting, given the bars and stripes on her face) after removing anything resembling a toy, a pillow or colour—apparently babies are more inspired by black and white patterns and perhaps that absence of bright objects keeps their focus on the mattress only, limiting their dangerous visits to the edge of the bed.

I see crib bumpers for sale for $1 with the regular price tags still on them, some as high as $299. They’re cute, they’re soft and they once served a purpose as I’m sure they will again. At no time as a consumer did I feel threatened or try to rush my children, shielding their eyes, past the bin filled with forbidden quilted ballerinas.

I’m considering renting a storage unit and filling it with $1 bumpers. Somebody is going to do it and they will make a fortune, sooner rather than later when “they” lift the “cozy but crazy” ban and let our babies sleep in comfort.

I’m not suggesting the bumpers will come back without a battle. “They” will have to shake things up substantially to detract from the absurdity of the re-introduction of a good night’s sleep.

Babies will be positioned sideways, right foot slightly ahead of the left, arms raised to chest height, left elbow bent to 30 degrees, right at 90, eyes preferably open and bumpers as high as the ceiling.