What do you actually need to keep a newborn alive?
what I wish I knew back then about "must-haves"
If you want to know what you actually need for your newborn baby, try this: start a major home renovation project while you’re 6 months pregnant that requires you to empty out your entire home, hit every roadblock possible in construction as a true rite of passage for recognizing that this ain’t nothin’ like a Chip and Joanna makeover, birth your child 5 weeks early, scramble to Amazon Prime everything you need from your hospital bed because, SURPRISE!, you’re moving in with your parents for three weeks that will turn into three months.
My friends posted beautiful photos of their nurseries months before their kid arrived with twinkle lights and stuffed rabbits and monogramed initials and Goodnight Moon propped up and waiting to be read to a newborn who only cares about eating, sleeping, and pooping. “We’re ready for you!!” the captions read with color-coordinated sheets and shiplap walls and blackout curtains and soft area rugs. Details down to tiny socks and warmed wipes were waiting.
Meanwhile, my son didn’t even have a name. Stuff from our baby shower sat unopened in a pile in our unfinished basement, covered in a plastic tarp to protect it from wood chips falling from the sky and the layer of drywall dust that blanketed our entire house. On so many days, I felt like I was walking around buried in figurative drywall dust as I spit imaginary mouthfuls of wood chips that continued to splinter my life. (That sounds slightly dramatic, but, alas, it was a messy and stretching time.)
Mind you, this was a buried pile of “must-haves” which I had spent hours upon hours (upon hours) researching with some variation of: newborn baby essentials, what do I need on my baby registry?, and tell me what to buy to keep a newborn alive.
Suddenly, we had to figure out: what do we actually need to keep this baby alive for a few weeks (or, you know, a few months)?
“A boob, a blanket, and call it a day,” my best friend said recently.
Right now she’s getting ready to welcome her third child. I brought over a car full of baby items for her to borrow and we laughed at her “nursery reveal” as she showed me the pile of donated and thrifted items stashed in a corner of her basement. Third child problems.
What do you actually need to keep a newborn alive? (Here’s a list because who doesn’t like a tidy list. Is this an exhaustive list? Why, no, no it is not. But here are 8 things you need to keep a newborn alive…)
You need patience. (A little louder for the people in the back… You need PATIENCE.)
You need diapers and wipes (more than you could ever imagine).
You need perspective. I remember nursing every day at 9, 12, 3, and 6 around the clock. Just as soon as I struggled through one session, it felt like it was time for the next. I hung on for 11 months of breastfeeding, but so many days I thought, This is it. This is my entire life for the rest of my life every single day forever until eternity. My mom reminded me (often! because I needed the reminder) that this was all so temporary and fleeting. God, it didn’t feel like that, but GOD was she right.
You need a onesie (or 7 for blow-outs, and preferably with no snaps).
You need a soft blanket or a swaddle. My husband was the only one who actually retained the demo from the nurse about how to swaddle your baby in the blue and pink striped hospital blanket. No matter how many videos I watched, I couldn’t do it. Plus, my son was a swaddle escape artist from day 1. My dad was convinced he just needed freedom from the “straitjacket.”
You need basic necessities for you — water and sunshine and a bed with a good pillow. Oh, and snacks. So many baskets of snacks stashed in every room.
You need milk (boob or bottle or both, it doesn’t matter).
You need help. More help than you could ever imagine. Learn to accept it in all shapes and sizes.
Of course, there were a million more things I thought we needed. Some of the luxury items were great. The DockATot became a fast “must-have” as we carried my son from room to room at my parents’ house on his personal little throne. My dad called him “The King.”
But goodness, if I could go back and tell myself something as a new mom (love this prompt from
), it’s this: Borrow, borrow, borrow.Borrow a DockATot, borrow a crib, borrow onesies even if they’re pink and you had a boy.
Say yes to anything that’s offered to you. Don’t splurge on new trendy baby items that pop up in your Instagram ads.
You’ll fantasize about how they’ll surely sleep perfectly forever in that million dollar crib that rocks them to sleep for you and that it will change your life, but the tiny hard excruciating and exhausting moments will come and go so quickly. Soon you’ll look up and he’ll walk across the room and open the kitchen pantry to help himself to a snack.
You’ll wash and pack up the DockATot that you borrowed from your best friend who’s getting ready for baby three, and you’ll wonder, did he actually fit in there? Where did my six-pound peanut go?
You’ll wonder where the time went and how to make it all slow down and how to hold onto the memories forever.
And you’ll question deep in your bones, can anyone teach me how to borrow time?
Give these a try…
These velcro swaddles worked miracles for that jolting reflex that, yes, they do eventually outgrow.
The DockATot… truly a game changer. But please, borrow one! Or find one at your local secondhand store. The cover comes off and you can wash it, good as new.
Always time for a new journal prompt — I gave this advice (on a whim) to my best friend who is preparing to welcome Baby #3 this winter: Make a list of things that bring you joy. In the winter, it might be harder to find sunshine and go for walks. These cold months already tend to bring seasonal sadness, so try to plan ahead with a list of ideas that you can look at for inspiration when you’re in a postpartum fog. Stock up on the movies, the games, the treats that make you happy and try one small thing in a break between feedings.
“Pause, even (especially!) when you don’t have the time.
The end of Jude’s first month felt like an enormous milestone. We’d made it — still standing, mostly — through a storm that swept its way through our home, bringing with it sleepless nights, insane hormones, and an extremely hungry little thing.
I pulled out my journal and wrote “Jude at 1 month!” followed by a handful of details both mundane and monumental:
Lots of naps — on Mom and Dad, in the dock-a-tot, car, and stroller, not so often in the bassinet or crib.
Loves being held by anybody and everybody, including friends, nurses, and our pediatrician.
Has figured out Mom’s voice means, “Woo! It’s time to eat!”
These notes have become a monthly practice — a way of slowing down the passage of time.”
-
, “13 lessons from 13 months of motherhood”,
I love how you’ve gone back to basics here. It really is all you need.
And thanks so much for featuring my essay! I’m so touched that it resonated ☺️