The Messy, Exhausting Truth About Buying Newborn Baby Clothes

I was staring at a literal miniature three-piece tweed suit. It had suspenders. A bow tie. It was hung on a tiny velvet hanger in my freshly painted nursery, and I remember standing there, holding a lukewarm cup of coffee that I had already reheated four times, thinking, oh god, I've to dress a fragile, floppy seven-pound water balloon in this?

Spoiler alert: I didn't. Leo never wore the tweed suit. He spent the first three months of his life exclusively in stained sleep sacks and footed pajamas because the biggest myth the baby industry sells you is that your new born needs a "wardrobe." They don't. They need a survival kit.

When you're pregnant with your first, you've this fantasy that you're going to dress your baby like a tiny Instagram influencer, but the reality is that newborn baby clothes need to do three things: keep them alive, keep their skin from breaking out in weird terrifying rashes, and allow you to change a diaper at 3 AM while legally blind with exhaustion. That's it.

Everything else is just marketing crap.

The umbilical cord stump situation

Let's just get the grossest part out of the way first. Nobody warns you about the umbilical cord stump. It's like a weird, drying piece of beef jerky attached to your beautiful new baby, and my pediatrician, Dr. Aris, casually mentioned it would take like one to three weeks to fall off.

Three weeks!

During that time, you're terrified of bumping it. Dave, my husband, was so scared of hurting Leo's stump that he literally tried to diaper him from the knees down once. Which, obviously, didn't work. The thing you realize very quickly is that pants are the enemy. Anything with a waistband that rubs right at the belly button is just asking for a screaming baby and a panicked frantic Google search at midnight.

Which is why I became obsessively attached to one-piece rompers. Like, I refused to put Leo in anything else. When Maya came along three years later, I had wised up and discovered the Baby Romper Organic Cotton Footed Jumpsuit from Kianao. I'm not exaggerating when I say this thing saved my sanity. It's got full-length front buttons so you don't have to pull anything over their fragile little bobble-heads, and it completely bypasses the belly button area. Plus, it has integrated feet, which means I didn't have to deal with those stupid tiny baby socks that literally vanish into thin air the second you look away. I bought it in three colors and basically just rotated them until she grew out of them.

Anyway, the point is, avoid waistbands like the plague until that stump falls off.

The great temperature guessing game

Babies are basically terrible at being humans. They can't even keep stable their own body temperature. I remember calling the pediatrician's emergency line at 10 PM because Leo's hands felt like tiny ice cubes, and I was convinced he was freezing to death.

The nurse on call, who sounded like she was heavily judging me while chewing gum, explained that infant circulation is just bad and feeling their hands or feet tells you absolutely nothing. You have to feel their chest or the back of their neck. If it's sweaty, they're too hot. If it's cool, they're too cold.

She told me to follow the "Plus One" rule, which I guess means you put the baby in whatever number of layers you're wearing, plus one. But Dave runs hot and wears t-shirts in December, and I'm perpetually shivering in a fleece robe, so figuring out the baseline was a nightmare. I still don't totally understand the exact science of it, to be honest. I just know that overheating is a huge SIDS risk, which absolutely terrified me.

Dr. Aris drilled into my head that we couldn't use loose blankets in the crib. Bare cribs only. So baby clothes essentially become their bedding.

This is where layers come in. You start with a basic, breathable base layer. I really like the Organic Cotton Baby Bodysuit from Kianao for this. It's sleeveless, which is perfect because you can throw a long-sleeve sleeper over it, or a sleep sack, and the organic cotton means it actually breathes. Unlike that cheap polyester stuff that traps heat and turns your baby into a sweaty little sauna.

Skin as thin as paper

Speaking of polyester, let's talk about baby skin. It's so thin. Like, weirdly translucent in the beginning. You can see all their little veins.

With Leo, I bought a bunch of cheap, synthetic baby clothes from a big box store because I figured he was just going to poop on them anyway, so who cares, right? Well, his skin cared. He broke out in this angry, red, patchy rash all over his chest and back. I panicked, obviously. Dr. Aris took one look at him and asked what I was dressing him in and what detergent I was using.

Apparently, conventional cotton is heavily sprayed with pesticides, and synthetic fabrics are basically just plastic that trap moisture against their super sensitive skin barrier.

I thought the whole "organic cotton" thing was just a pretentious trend for moms who make their own granola and do baby yoga, but it actually has a medical basis. Organic cotton is naturally hypoallergenic. It doesn't have the chemical residue that triggers contact dermatitis. When I switched Maya entirely over to organic fibers, she never had a single skin issue. Not one. It's annoying that it costs a little more, but honestly, it's cheaper than buying twelve different expensive eczema creams that don't work.

If you're building out a registry, check out Kianao's organic baby clothes collection. Just get a few high-quality basics instead of a mountain of cheap stuff.

Sizing is basically a lie

Here's a fun fact that nobody tells you at your baby shower: "Newborn" size is usually only for babies up to 8 pounds.

Maya was born at 8 pounds 4 ounces. She never fit into a single newborn-sized item we owned. Not once. Dave tried to squeeze her into this adorable little NB-sized ducky onesie in the hospital, and he looked like he was trying to stuff a sausage into a casing. She was screaming, he was sweating, I was crying from the hormones. It was a disaster.

Buy like, maybe three newborn things just in case, and keep the tags on them. Buy the vast majority of your early baby clothes in the 0-3 Months size. Because even if your baby is born at 7 pounds, they double their birth weight in a matter of months. They grow so fast it's actually frightening. You will blink, and suddenly their ankles are sticking out of their pajamas.

What you honestly need (The "please let me sleep" list)

If I could go back in time and shake my pregnant self by the shoulders, I'd tell her to stop buying denim for a creature that doesn't have kneecaps yet.

Here's what you honestly need to buy for a new born baby:

• 5-7 Bodysuits (Onesies): Make sure they've those little envelope folds on the shoulders. You know why? Because when your baby has a diaper blowout that travels up their back (and they'll, oh god they'll), you don't want to pull a poop-covered shirt over their head. The envelope shoulders let you pull the onesie down their body. Brilliant.
• 4-6 Sleepers with TWO-WAY ZIPPERS: If you buy pajamas with snaps all the way down the legs, you'll hate yourself at 3 AM. Trying to match up 14 metal snaps in the dark while a baby is screaming at you is a form of psychological torture. Get the two-way zippers. Zip from the bottom up to change the diaper so their chest stays warm.
• 2-3 Sleep Sacks: For the safe sleep stuff.
• Some bibs for later: Babies don't really need bibs on day one unless they're massive spitters. But you'll want them soon enough. I got the Waterproof Rainbow Baby Bib from Kianao. Look, I'll be honest, it's just a silicone bib. It's not going to change your life. But it has this deep pocket that catches the pureed carrots Maya inevitably spits out, and it's super easy to rinse off in the sink while I'm trying to make my morning coffee. Plus the rainbow is cute.

Hats? You need maybe one. Scratch mittens? Useless, they fall off in three seconds, just buy the sleepers that have the little fold-over cuffs built into the sleeves.

Look, the first few months are just raw survival. You're bleeding, you're crying, you're so tired you're hallucinating. Dress your baby in things that make your life easier, not things that look cute for an aesthetic photo you'll be too tired to take anyway.

Keep it simple. Keep it soft. Keep the tags on the tiny stuff.

If you're ready to ditch the complicated outfits and just get the soft, functional stuff that honestly works, go shop the Kianao baby clothes essentials. Your future 3-AM-self will thank you.

You asked, I'm answering (Messily)

How many newborn outfits do I really need?

Oh god, "outfits"? Zero. You need survival layers. Like I said above, grab maybe 5 onesies and 5 footed pajamas. You're going to be doing laundry constantly anyway because babies are basically just fluid-leaking machines. Don't buy 30 onesies, they'll outgrow half of them before you even cut the tags off.

Are organic baby clothes really worth the extra money?

I used to think it was just a hipster scam to make us spend more money, but yeah, unfortunately, it's. When Leo had that horrible rash from synthetic fabrics, it was terrifying. Organic cotton doesn't have the weird chemical residues, and it breathes so much better. I'd rather buy three expensive organic sleepers and wash them constantly than buy ten cheap polyester ones that make my kid's skin peel.

Should I wash baby clothes before they wear them?

Yeah. Dr. Aris told me factories have tons of dust and weird sizing chemicals on the fabrics to make them look stiff and perfect on the hanger. You definitely want to strip all that crap off before it touches your baby's skin. Use a gentle, unscented detergent. Don't use fabric softener, it just coats the clothes in more chemicals.

What's the deal with dressing babies for sleep?

It's terrifying, honestly. You're so scared of SIDS. Just remember no loose blankets in the crib. Ever. I just put my kids in a long-sleeve organic cotton bodysuit, and then zipped them into a wearable blanket (a sleep sack). If the back of their neck feels sweaty, take a layer off. Dave always wanted to bundle them up, but a slightly cool baby is way safer than a hot baby.

Do I really need kimono-style shirts?

For the first two weeks while that gross little umbilical cord stump is doing its thing? Yes. Anything you don't have to pull over their fragile little floppy head is a blessing, and the side-snap stuff means nothing is rubbing against the belly button. Once the stump falls off, you can switch to regular onesies, but those first few weeks, side-snaps or front-button rompers are life savers.