The Minimalist Baby Registry

Swivels over the bed, so night feeds don't mean getting up. Outgrown by five months; that's the point.

Soft, sized right, survive hot washes. Three.

Velcro wings, no origami. Get three; one is always in the wash.

Sound machine, night light and, later, the toddler clock. One device that grows with the room.

Wide, soft nipple that most babies take. Buy a starter set, not a cabinet.

Holds bottle parts upright to dry. Looks like a lawn, works like a lawn.

Saves your arms during feeds and doubles for supervised tummy time.

Soft, absorbent, washable a thousand times. You will need more than seems reasonable.

Quiet, rechargeable, hospital-grade suction. Check your insurance first; many cover it.

The wetness indicator earns its keep in week one. Register for size 1 too; newborn size goes fast.

Wipes clean instead of needing a cover. No fabric, no laundry, no smell.

The diaper-rash fix that also handles dry cheeks and everything else.

Steel holds no odor and it takes ordinary trash bags, so no proprietary refills.

The lightest carrier here by a wide margin, and it installs with just a seat belt for taxis.

Newborn to toddler, front or back, and it doesn't wreck your shoulders.

The stroller that becomes a double when the second one arrives. Big spend; register for it.

Newborn sling to toddler tub. One bath purchase instead of three.

Thick enough to matter. The hood is the whole trick with a wet, cold, furious newborn.

Forehead, ear or room. The one you'll reach for at 3am.

Not really for swaddling. For everything else: burp cloth, sun shade, nursing cover, blanket.

The hospital gives you some of this. Have your own; theirs runs out at 4am.