A Letter To My Freaking Out Past Self About Winter Baby Hats

Dear 2017 Sarah,

You're currently standing in the hallway of the apartment, staring at the front door like it's a portal to hell. It's mid-November. Maya is exactly three weeks old. You're wearing those gray maternity leggings with the breastmilk stain on the left thigh that vaguely resembles the continent of South America, and you're crying.

You're crying because you need to go to the pharmacy for nipple cream, it's roughly two degrees outside, and you can't figure out how to put a hat on this tiny, fragile, terrifyingly wobbly human being without feeling like you're going to break her.

You have three different beanies lined up on the entryway table. One looks like it was knit for a medium-sized grapefruit. One has a giant pompoms that makes Maya look like a sad, sleepy elf. One is the striped hospital hat that's currently stretched out and crusty. You're paralyzed by the fear that she will either instantly freeze to death the second the icy wind hits her face, or she will spontaneously combust from overheating under the wool.

I'm writing this from the future. I'm sitting in my kitchen, drinking lukewarm coffee that my husband Greg made four hours ago, while Leo (who's now four, which is insane) is trying to feed a carrot to the Roomba.

I want you to take a deep breath. Maya survives the winter. You survive the winter. But there's so much absolute crap floating around in your postpartum, sleep-deprived brain right now about how to dress a fresh baby for the freezing cold, and I need to clear it up for you so you can just put the damn hat on and go get your nipple cream.

Why big baby heads are basically chimneys

Right now, you're looking at Maya's giant, beautiful, bald head and panicking. And honestly? You should be a little mindful of it, but not for the old-wives-tale reasons your great-aunt keeps texting you about.

Our doctor, Dr. Weiss—the guy with the aggressively loud ties who always looks like he needs a nap—explained this to me at her two-month checkup while I was desperately trying to stop her from peeing on his exam table. He said something about how newborns completely lack the ability to shiver. Like, their tiny bodies just don't know how to generate heat that way yet. So if they get cold, they just... get cold.

And because their heads are mathematically massive compared to their little bodies, all the heat just rockets right out the top. I think he said it's like eighty percent of their body heat lost through the head? Or maybe fifty? Honestly, I was so distracted by the threat of baby pee that I missed the exact statistic, but the point is, it's a lot. If you take a newborn outside in the biting cold without covering that little chimney, their core temperature drops super fast, which makes their developing immune system kind of go haywire and leaves them wide open to every disgusting cold virus floating around the grocery store.

So yes, you need a hat outside. Period.

The absolute panic of indoor heating

But thing is that's going to keep you awake at 3 AM scrolling furiously on your phone in the dark: the SIDS terror.

You remember when Greg's mom came over last week and told you to keep that little knit cap on Maya while she was sleeping in her bassinet because "the room felt drafty"? I think you actually growled at her. Like, a literal guttural animal sound came out of your throat.

You were right to trust your gut, by the way. NEVER put a hat on her to sleep. Ever.

Dr. Weiss was incredibly intense about this. Because babies lose all that heat through their heads, the head is also their built-in radiator. If the room is warm, or they're wrapped in a blanket, they dump the excess heat out of their scalp. If you cap the radiator while they sleep, they can't cool down. They overheat. And overheating is, like, a massive, terrifying risk factor for sudden infant death.

This means the second you cross the threshold back into your heated apartment, or the second you carry her into a warm coffee shop, you rip that hat off. Even if she just fell asleep. Even if taking it off will wake her up and she will scream and you'll want to die. You take it off.

The best way to know if she's too hot is something Greg figured out by accident when he was trying to support her floppy neck. You just slide two freezing fingers down the back of her neck. If it feels warm and dry, she's perfect. If it feels sweaty or clammy, she's baking in her own juices and you need to strip a layer immediately. Don't touch her hands or feet to check her temperature—they're always going to feel like little ice cubes because her circulation is currently garbage. Neck sweat is the only truth.

Oh, and baby booties are basically just decorative fabric that will fall off in three seconds anyway, so don't even stress about those.

The great material debate that will ruin your life

Let's talk about the hats sitting on your table right now. Throw the acrylic one in the trash. Seriously, go do it right now.

Polyester and acrylic are plastic. Putting a thick synthetic fleece hat on a newborn is like wrapping their head in a plastic grocery bag. It traps the sweat, gets wet, stays wet, and then the wet fabric actually makes them colder while simultaneously suffocating their pores. It's a disaster.

You need natural fibers. You're going to fall down a massive rabbit hole about this next month, so let me just save you the hours of internet research. You want merino wool or organic cotton. Wool is like this magical, mystical fabric that somehow traps warm air but also lets sweat evaporate. But—and this is a huge but—pure raw wool directly on Maya's forehead is going to give her a rash because she has that weird little patch of cradle cap developing.

The hack you'll eventually discover (which will save your sanity) is the two-layer system. You buy a super thin, incredibly soft organic cotton base cap. It looks like nothing, just a tiny skullcap. You put that on first. It protects her skin and catches any sweat. Then, when you go into the freezing wind, you just pull the thick wool hood of her winter overall right over the cotton cap. Boom. Perfect insulation, no scratching, and you don't have to wrestle with a giant pompom hat that keeps sliding over her eyes.

Since we're on the topic of things touching her delicate, flaky newborn skin, you're going to start caring deeply about the fabrics in everything she uses. You don't know it yet, but you're going to develop an unhealthy obsession with breathable baby gear.

For example, that heavy fleece blanket someone gifted you at the shower? You're going to hate it. Instead, you're going to buy the Universe Bamboo Blanket and you're going to use it for literally everything. It has these cool little yellow and orange planets on it, but the main thing is that it's made of bamboo and organic cotton. It's so unbelievably soft and it actually controls temperature. When the wind is howling on the way to the doctor, you're going to drape this lightly over the stroller opening to block the icy air, knowing she can still breathe perfectly fine through the natural fibers.

Then there's the Bunny Organic Cotton Blanket. You will buy this in a panic at 2 AM. It's just a really solid, incredibly soft base layer blanket that doesn't make her sweat when you're doing tummy time on the cold hardwood floors in January.

I do need to warn you about one hilarious laundry disaster, though. You're going to order the Polar Bear Organic Cotton Blanket because you think the little bears are cute. And it's a great blanket. BUT. Sometime around week eight, when you're hallucinating from sleep deprivation, you're going to wash it on the "sanitize" cycle because Maya had a blowout. You will think 90 degrees Celsius is a normal water temperature.

It's not.

The blanket will survive, but the organic cotton fibers will tighten up dramatically. It will lose that drapey, swaddle-like flow. At first, you'll be mad at yourself. But seriously? It becomes this incredibly dense, thick, wind-blocking mat. You will end up folding it and using it as the base layer inside the stroller bassinet to insulate her back from the cold underneath. It completely saved our winter walks. So, not exactly what it was designed for, but a total win because natural fibers are durable as hell.

(By the way, when Leo comes along a few years later, he's going to drag a Colorful Dinosaur Bamboo Blanket around the house by one corner until it's gray with dust, but that's a whole different story about how second children are basically raised by wolves).

The weird little details nobody mentions

You're going to notice that a lot of hats have those string ties under the chin. Greg hates them because he thinks he's going to accidentally choke her while tying the knot with his large, clumsy man-hands.

But the ties are genuinely really helpful when they're this small. Because newborns have zero neck control and spend their time in the stroller rubbing their heads side to side like little angry turtles, untied hats just spin around until the seam is over their nose. You just have to make sure the ties are short. If you can wrap the string around her neck, it's too long and you need to cut it. Oh god, just thinking about strings near her neck makes me anxious. Anyway, the point is, tie them loosely, just enough to keep the hat from doing a full 180.

Eventually, when she's like three months old, you'll discover balaclavas (those little knight-helmet things that cover the neck and head in one piece), and it'll blow your mind, but right now her neck is too floppy to wrangle into one of those without feeling like you're performing a wrestling move.

So here's the game plan for today, 2017 Sarah:

Put the thin cotton cap on her head. Zip her into her little fleece suit. Flip the hood up. Walk to the pharmacy. Buy the nipple cream. When you get back inside the building lobby, pull the hood back and slip the cap off before you even get in the elevator. If her neck feels sweaty, strip a layer. If she screams, let her scream. You're doing a good job.

Drink your coffee before it gets cold. Spoiler alert: you never will.

Love,
2024 Sarah

P.S. If you want to see the natural fiber stuff I eventually became obsessed with (and stopped ruining in the laundry), you should probably just look at what Kianao is doing before you waste money on polyester garbage that makes her sweat.

All the panicked questions I Googled at 4 AM

Do I really need those hats with the ear flaps?

Yes and no. The ears absolutely have to be covered because the wind will make them painfully cold in about thirty seconds, and babies are super prone to earaches. But you don't necessarily need the specific "trapper" style hat with the flaps, as long as the beanie you use can be pulled down securely over the tops and lobes of her ears without popping back up like a rubber band.

What if the hat leaves a red line on my baby's forehead?

I freaked out about this constantly. If the red mark fades within like ten to fifteen minutes of taking the hat off, it's totally fine—baby skin is just ridiculously sensitive and marks easily. But if it stays red for an hour, or if the hat leaves a deep physical indentation, it's too tight and you need to size up. Honestly, most "0-3 month" sizing is a lie anyway, always go by their actual head circumference in centimeters.

Can I just let her wear the striped hospital hat outside?

I mean, you can, but it's not going to do much. Those hospital hats are usually made of a thin cotton-poly blend and they stretch out the second you look at them. They're meant for the climate-controlled maternity ward, not a freezing Tuesday in January with a wind chill. Keep it in her memory box, don't rely on it for actual winter survival.

Is it normal if my newborn absolutely screams when I put the hat on?

Oh god, yes. Maya acted like I was dipping her in acid every time I touched her head. They hate the transition, they hate having their ears covered, and they hate being manipulated. But usually, the second you get the stroller moving outside, the motion puts them to sleep. They aren't screaming because they're in pain, they're screaming because they're tiny dictators who hate being told what to wear.

How do I wash a wool baby hat if she spits up on it?

Learn from my terrible mistakes. Don't throw it in with the regular hot laundry. You hand wash it in the sink with lukewarm water and a tiny drop of baby shampoo, then lay it flat on a towel to dry. If you put a merino wool hat in the dryer, it'll shrink down to a size that would comfortably fit an apple. Just don't do it.