What I Wish I Knew About Giving Babies Water Before I Panicked

It's July 2020. I'm wearing a pair of maternity bike shorts that have a mysterious, hardened yogurt stain on the left thigh, and I'm sweating through my second t-shirt of the day. My husband, Dave, is standing next to our massive double stroller holding his obnoxious 40-ounce stainless steel Yeti cup, just aggressively chewing on some ice. Maya is strapped into the stroller seat, looking like a tiny, furious red tomato because it’s ninety degrees out, and Dave casually leans over and goes, "Should I give her a sip of water?"

I literally slapped the heavy metal cup out of his hand. It clattered onto the pavement in front of a very startled golden retriever.

Dear Sarah of four years ago, who was exactly six months into this fresh hell of parenting two kids... put down your lukewarm third iced coffee and listen to me. You're going to survive this weird transition phase, but you need to chill out about the water thing.

I feel like nobody really warns you about this specific brand of panic? With Leo, my older kid, I just blindly followed whatever the hospital discharge papers said, but by the time Maya came along, I was constantly reading these unhinged late-night parenting forums where people were spelling it babi and babie and screaming at each other about fluoride and well water. I spent hours frantically typing when can babies drink water into my phone at 3 AM while nursing, absolutely terrified I was going to dehydrate my child.

Anyway, the point is, infant hydration is wildly confusing, so let’s just talk about how we actually handle it without losing our minds completely.

The grape kidney situation

So here's what my doctor, Dr. Miller, told me when I interrogated her about Dave’s attempted water-treason. Apparently, before six months old, you should NEVER give a baby plain water. Zero. Zip. Not even if it’s a boiling hot summer day and you're both sweating profusely on a park bench.

She explained that a young baby's kidneys are roughly the size of grapes. Grapes! I can’t even handle how small that's. Because they're so tiny, they literally can't process plain water. If you give them water, I guess it flushes out all their sodium or dilutes it or something? I was a communications major, so my medical understanding is fuzzy at best, but Dr. Miller said it can cause their brain to swell, which sounds like an episode of House but is apparently a very real thing called water intoxication.

Terrifying.

Also, their stomachs are basically the size of an egg. If you fill that tiny egg-stomach with zero-calorie water, they don't have room for breast milk or formula, which means they aren't getting the fats and nutrients they need to, you know, grow their actual brain. Which makes sense, because—actually no, it doesn’t make sense, it’s just one more invisible landmine we've to dodge as parents.

So for those first six months, I just aggressively breastfed Maya, and when we did formula, I remember standing in the kitchen measuring the powder with the precision of a bomb squad technician. Oh god, the panic of adding slightly too much water to the bottle to try and "stretch" it—don't ever do that, by the way. Just mix it exactly how the side of the can says and pray they drink it before they throw it on the floor.

Crossing the six-month finish line

Then something magical and annoying happens right around the six-month mark. Suddenly, the water that was absolute poison yesterday is now... totally fine? Well, fine in moderation.

Dr. Miller said once Maya started gnawing on sweet potato mush and those sad, dry teething crackers, we could introduce a little bit of water. Like, maybe two to four ounces a day. Not to hydrate her, really, but just as "practice" and to help wash down the food so she wouldn't get horribly constipated.

Honestly, watching a six-month-old try to drink water is a comedy routine. They have zero idea what to do with a liquid that doesn't taste like milk. Maya would just take a tiny sip, hold it in her mouth with this deeply offended look on her face, and then let it dribble slowly out the sides of her chin and all over my only clean shirt.

Welcome to the cup wars

This brings me to the absolute nightmare that's buying baby cups. If you look at Instagram for more than five seconds, the pediatric occupational therapists will aggressively inform you that traditional sippy cups are evil and will ruin your child's jaw alignment forever.

So I panicked and tried to jump straight to open cups, which resulted in Maya basically taking a daily bath in tap water at the kitchen table.

If you take anything away from this letter to my past self, let it be this: buy the Silicone Mug Set from Kianao and burn all the cheap plastic crap you got at your baby shower. I'm dead serious. This was the only thing that saved my sanity during the water-learning phase.

They're these tiny, perfectly squishy little six-ounce mugs with two handles that are actually sized for a baby's chubby, uncoordinated hands. Maya loved them because she could bite the rim—which, whatever, she was teething—and I loved them because when she inevitably threw it off her highchair, it just bounced on the floor instead of shattering or cracking like the hard plastic ones we had with Leo.

It holds just enough water for her to practice without overwhelming her, and it’s completely BPA-free food-grade silicone, so I didn't have to spiral about her ingesting microplastics while trying to learn how to swallow. Just give them a tiny bit in the silicone cup at mealtime, let them make a massive mess, and move on with your life.

By the way, if you're drowning in all the gear you need for this transition to solids and liquids, you should probably just browse through Kianao's feeding and drinking essentials before you impulse-buy something terrible at a big box store at midnight.

Wait, is she thirsty or just hot?

Half the time Dave was asking if Maya needed water, she wasn't even thirsty—she was just dressed completely wrong for the weather, and her skin was freaking out. Babies run so ridiculously hot, and we always overdress them because we're terrified they're going to catch a cold.

I spent way too much time worrying about her hydration levels when I should have just been paying attention to her clothes. Those cheap synthetic onesies we bought in a five-pack were just trapping the sweat against her skin, making her look flushed and miserable.

Once I finally switched her to the Organic Cotton Baby Bodysuit, she stopped looking like a sweaty tomato. It’s got a little bit of elastane so it genuinely stretches over her giant head without a fight, but it’s mostly just really breathable, soft organic cotton. It completely cleared up those weird red heat bumps she was getting on her shoulders. Plus, you can wash it a million times and it doesn't get that weird crunchy texture.

The teething confusion

Another thing I constantly confused for thirst? Teething. Oh god, the drooling.

Right around the time we started offering water, Maya was pushing out her bottom two teeth. She would frantically grab at her cup, but she didn't want to drink—she just wanted to aggressively gnaw on the silicone rim.

We ended up getting her the Panda Teether Silicone Baby Bamboo Chew Toy because it looked cute and I was desperate. Honestly? It's just okay. I mean, the food-grade silicone is nice and safe, and I liked the little bamboo detail, but Maya was pretty indifferent to it. She would chew on the panda's ear for about three minutes, get bored, and then throw it across the living room and demand to chew on my actual index finger instead. It’s totally fine as a diaper bag backup, but it wasn't the magical off-switch for crying that I was hoping for.

Juice, by the way, is basically just liquid sugar, so don't even bother keeping it in the house until they're much older and you need it as a bribe.

Staring at diapers

So how do you genuinely know if they're getting enough liquids if you can't give them a giant Stanley cup full of water?

You stare at their pee. Constantly.

With Leo, I used one of those apps to track every single wet diaper until he was like, eight months old. By the time I had Maya, I just did mental math. Dr. Miller told me as long as we were getting at least six heavy, wet diapers a day, and the pee looked pale instead of dark apple juice colored, she was fine.

If you see a dry diaper for hours, or they don't have tears when they're screaming at you because you took away the car keys they were trying to eat, then yeah, that's when you call the doctor. But mostly? Their bodies are pretty good at getting what they need from milk.

Look, Sarah from four years ago... you're doing fine. Stop reading the scary forum posts. Stop fighting with Dave about the ice water. Keep breastfeeding or formula feeding until that six-month mark, and then let her make a glorious, dripping mess with her little silicone cup.

It’s all going to be okay. Except the yogurt stain. That’s never coming out.

Before you dive into the frantic Google searches about cup transitions, do yourself a favor and grab that Silicone Mug Set—your future kitchen floor will thank you.

My Messy Answers to Your Late-Night Panicked Questions

Can I just add a little extra water to their formula on hot days?
Oh my god, absolutely not. I almost did this once when the AC broke in our apartment, and Dr. Miller practically yelled at me. Formula has a very specific ratio of salt and nutrients. If you add extra water, you mess up that balance and it can cause water intoxication. Just offer the normal formula more often if they seem thirsty.

What if my baby accidentally drinks some bath water?
Leo used to treat the bathtub like his own personal pub. He would constantly try to suck the soapy water off his washcloth. A tiny little sip or splash isn't going to cause their kidneys to fail. Just pull them away, distract them with a bath toy, and try not to panic. Obviously, if they gulp a ton of it, call your doctor, but a random soapy lick is just part of having a baby.

How much water should my one-year-old be drinking?
Once they hit a year and transition to whole milk and a ton of solid food, water really becomes their main thirst-quencher. Maya was drinking anywhere from 8 to maybe 24 ounces a day depending on how hot it was. We just left her cup on the coffee table and let her graze on it all day.

Are sippy cups really that bad?
According to every pediatric dentist on the internet, yes. They supposedly train the tongue to thrust forward instead of swallowing properly. I don't know the exact science, but I do know that skipping the sippy cup and using the small silicone open cups was way easier in the long run. Plus, sippy cup valves get disgusting black mold in them no matter how hard you scrub, which is foul.

Can babies drink water if they've a fever?
If they're under six months, still no! When Maya got her first ear infection and had a fever at four months, I just nursed her constantly. Breast milk and formula are over 80 percent water anyway, so they're getting hydrated. If they're older than six months, sure, you can offer some water along with their milk, but always check with your actual doctor instead of just trusting me.