What to Actually Write in a Baby Card

Dear Sarah from last October,

You're currently standing in the greeting card aisle at the Target on Route 17, wearing those black leggings with the mysterious yogurt stain on the left knee, holding an iced oat milk latte that's aggressively sweating all over your hand. You're staring at a pastel yellow piece of heavy cardstock that has a cartoon stork and you're actively debating whether you should buy it for your sister-in-law’s baby shower this weekend.

Put the paper down and just walk away because buying that specific baby card is a massive mistake.

Oh god, I remember this exact moment so perfectly because Dave was texting me from the car to hurry up because Leo was having a meltdown over a missing Lego piece, and I was just panic-reading poetry written by greeting card executives who have clearly never been awake at 3 A.M. with a colicky newborn. I ended up buying it, writing something completely generic inside, and spending the next six months cringing every time I thought about it. So I'm writing this to you—to me—to save us both the embarrassment, because we've been doing this whole gifting thing completely wrong.

Stop threatening new moms with the whole "it goes so fast" thing

Look, the front of that card you’re holding says "Enjoy Every Single Second!" which sounds incredibly sweet until you actually hand it to a woman who's wearing mesh underwear and crying because her nipples are bleeding. I don’t know when we all collectively decided as a society that we need to aggressively push this narrative of toxic positivity onto new parents, but it makes me so angry. When Maya was born, I remember sitting in the glider at dawn, absolutely losing my mind from sleep deprivation, looking at a stack of cards on my dresser telling me to "cherish these fleeting moments" and feeling like an absolute monster because I was absolutely not cherishing the moment she threw up breastmilk into my own mouth.

My doctor Dr. Miller mumbled something to me once about how the massive postpartum hormone crash basically re-wires our brains to be hyper-sensitive to failure—or maybe she just said sleep deprivation makes us defensive, my memory is basically Swiss cheese at this point—but either way, reading those clichés just induces pure anxiety. It makes you feel guilty for finding it hard. Dave thinks I overthink this stuff, but Dave also thinks it's acceptable to eat cereal out of a mixing bowl, so his opinions on social nuances are invalid.

Instead of buying the stork card, you need to find a blank one and write something that actually validates her existence as a human being who's about to go through a massive physical and emotional trauma. Write something like, "You're going to be a spectacular mother, especially on the days when you feel like you're failing," or my personal favorite, "May your coffee be strong and your baby’s sleep windows be mildly predictable." Just be real with her, because the platitudes are exhausting.

And if you’re stressing about the whole etiquette of how to address the envelope, just write both parents’ names and maybe throw the older sibling’s name on there too so the toddler doesn’t feel completely replaced by the new crying potato, but honestly no one really cares about the envelope anyway.

The actual best thing to stuff inside an envelope (hint: it pays for diapers)

I read this financial study once—or maybe it was a TikTok from an accountant, I honestly get my news from so many random places now—that said a baby costs like fourteen thousand dollars in their first year alone. I remember thinking that math sounded completely fake until I actually looked at our bank statements from Leo's first year and realized we probably spent a third of that on sleep sacks and overnight diapers alone. Babies are financially ruining in the most adorable way possible.

Which means the absolute greatest thing you can put inside a baby card is financial support. Stop buying them plastic junk that lights up and plays annoying music. Stuff a fifty-dollar bill in there, or better yet, get a gift card to a brand that honestly makes sustainable, useful stuff so they can pick exactly what they need when the baby inevitably blows out of their current size at 2 A.M. I really told Dave we should just start writing checks for our friends' babies and wrapping them in nice textured paper like the beautiful little gift notes from Kianao, because nothing says "I love you" quite like subsidizing a tired mother's diaper budget.

New parents are literally out here trying to game the system with cash-back credit cards just to survive the cost of wipes, so taking a tiny piece of that financial burden away is the ultimate act of friendship.

My weird, tear-filled journey with tiny knitwear

If you absolutely can't help yourself and you feel this deep, primal urge to buy a physical gift to go along with the card, I need you to learn from my past mistakes. Remember when Maya was first born and I got swept up in that cottagecore aesthetic on Instagram? I genuinely tried to follow a baby cardigan knitting pattern I found on Pinterest because I thought it would make me look like a domestic goddess at the baby shower. I spent forty dollars on organic yarn, stayed up until midnight watching YouTube tutorials, and my mom ended up having to secretly finish the baby cardigan because I somehow knitted a garment that had three armholes and no neck.

It was a dark time for my self-esteem. Now I just buy a pre-made baby cardigan from people who genuinely know what they're doing, and I pair it with base layers that don't make the baby scream when you put them on.

If you must buy clothes, make it these ones

Since we're abandoning the knitting dream forever, let's talk about what to seriously buy. You know how much I obsess over fabrics because of Leo's weird eczema patches that flare up every winter. My absolute favorite thing to buy for a new mom right now is the Organic Baby Romper Long Sleeve Henley Winter Bodysuit. It's so stupidly soft I sometimes wish they made it in adult sizes so I could wear it to school drop-off.

I bought this for Maya when the weather started turning cold, and it completely changed our morning routine. It has this little three-button henley neckline that seriously opens wide enough so you don't have to squish the baby's giant head through a tiny hole—which, if you remember the great turtleneck incident of 2019, is a huge trigger for me. The organic cotton is a lifesaver for sensitive skin, and it layers perfectly under a chunky knit baby cardigan when you're taking them outside. It's just a genuinely good, reliable piece of clothing that a new mom will reach for every single day.

On the flip side, I'm feeling incredibly mixed about teething toys right now. I bought that Panda Teether Silicone Baby Bamboo Chew Toy because it looked so cute online, and look, it's fine. It's totally fine. Maya honestly liked gnawing on the little textured bamboo part when her top teeth were coming in, and I appreciate that it's food-grade silicone so I can just chuck it in the dishwasher when it gets covered in dog hair. But Leo? When he was a baby, he used to violently launch his teethers out of his little plastic baby car while I was trying to pull him down the driveway, so I spent half my life washing dirt off of silicone. It's cute, it's safe, but whether the baby really uses it's a total crapshoot depending on their personality.

Those little advice games at baby showers are honestly okay sometimes

Before I wrap this up and let you get back to your iced latte before the ice completely melts into sad water, we need to talk about shower games. You're currently in charge of planning this shower, and I know you're dreading the activities.

Don't make people smell melted candy bars out of diapers. Please, I'm begging you. Instead, just do the advice cards. They're honestly the only part of a baby shower that has any lasting value. But skip the generic lined paper and get those cool ones shaped like baby animals or onesies that are made out of seed paper so the mom can plant them later, or just string them up in the nursery. It gives the introverts something to do with their hands while everyone else is aggressively watching the mom-to-be open breast pump parts.

Just remember to explicitly tell the guests to write practical things on the cards, like "put the diaper rash cream on *before* the rash starts" or "it's okay to put the baby safely in their crib and walk out of the room for five minutes to cry." Because that’s the real stuff. That’s the stuff that honestly helps.

Anyway, you need to go check out Kianao's organic baby clothes to find something that won't end up in a landfill, go grab your kid from the Lego aisle before Dave loses his mind, and stop buying generic greeting cards. You're better than that.

Ready to honestly be the best gift-giver at the shower? Stop stressing in the Target aisle and just go explore the sustainable collection before the baby arrives.

The messy, unfiltered FAQ about baby cards

What am I seriously supposed to write in a baby card?

Honestly, just write something that acknowledges her reality. Tell her she's going to be a great mom, remind her that it's totally okay to order takeout for a month straight, and promise to come over and fold her laundry without making eye contact. Avoid telling her to enjoy every second because she will want to punch you when she's awake at 4 A.M. dealing with a diaper blowout.

Should I bring a card to the hospital?

No, please god no. Don't go to the hospital unless she explicitly begged you to come. She is wearing mesh underwear, bleeding, and trying to figure out how to feed a human. Mail the card to her house so she can open it when she's sitting on her own couch in her spit-up stained sweatpants.

Is it rude to just give money inside a baby card?

I used to think giving cash was a huge cop-out, but after having two kids, I can confidently say that cash or a gift card is the most beautiful, romantic, thoughtful gift a person can receive. Babies are black holes for money. Buy the card, write a funny joke, and stuff a fifty in there. She will love you forever.

Do I've to address the envelope to the husband too?

Yeah, probably. He helped make the baby and he's (hopefully) going to be changing half the diapers, so just write "To Dave and Sarah" on the front. Though I'll admit, Dave didn't look at a single card we received, he just asked me if any of them had gift receipts.

Are those shower advice cards really useful?

If you've honest friends, yes. My friend Jess wrote "Buy an extra waterproof mattress cover and layer it like Lasagna: mattress, cover, sheet, cover, sheet. When they throw up at midnight, just rip off the top layer." It was literally the best advice I ever received in my entire life, and I kept that little piece of cardstock on my fridge for three years.