Boxed for delivery

When our second daughter was born, she came home from the hospital in a box. All the babies born at Duke University Medical Center in 1973 were sent home in a cardboard box that had served as their bassinets during their stay in the newborn nursery. As I recall, the boxes were decorated with storks and musical notes; had spaces for the babies’ names, measurements, and birth dates; and had open slots that functioned as carrying handles.

Of course, 1973 predated crash-tested car seats, and so we put little Emily and her box in what we referred to as the “wayback” of our Ford Pinto wagon, a car that subsequently earned a reputation for turning into a fireball when involved in a rear-end collision. However, I believe I did take the extra precaution of “securing” the box in place with a bungee cord.

But Emily survived, and I filed away the memory of her cardboard bassinet until a few weeks ago when I read a story in the New York Times, “Why Finland’s Newborns Sleep in Cardboard Cribs” (Eli Rosenberg, July 6, 2016). It turns out the Finnish government gives out 40,000 cardboard boxes to pregnant women who agree to have a medical exam during the first trimester of their pregnancy. The gift boxes come along with 50 items of baby ware appropriate for Finland’s frigid climate, including a warm coat and a balaclava.

The baby box program began in the late 1930s as a way to encourage mothers to visit physicians. The current Finnish infant mortality is one of the lowest in the world and less than half of ours in the United States. There are some who have been tempted to attribute this dramatic decline to the baby box program. But it is hard to tease out one factor in a country that offers a 10-month paid parental leave and guarantees that a stay-at-home parent may return to his or her job at any time before the child’s third birthday.

Even without a broad social service support system, the cardboard box crib can save lives. For families who can’t afford a crib, the box offers a safer alternative to a couch with soft cushions and face-trapping gaps between its cushions, or to a bed shared with a sleep-deprived or inebriated parent, or to an antique crib with neck-pinching slats and layers of lead-laced paint.

Given this high costs of raising a child, the option of a no-cost cardboard box crib should appeal to most young families. But you know as well as I do that parents to be (and grandparents to be) are primed to buy and are focused on creating nurseries that match the images they see in the glossy magazines targeted at their vulnerable demographic.

It will require a major public relations campaign to counteract the image that bedding one’s precious newborn in a cardboard box conjures up. But maybe there is a role for us. If pediatricians began promoting the advantages of cardboard cribs, they might just catch on. On second thought, maybe we should focus our energies on promoting more child-friendly parental leave policies.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.”

When our second daughter was born, she came home from the hospital in a box. All the babies born at Duke University Medical Center in 1973 were sent home in a cardboard box that had served as their bassinets during their stay in the newborn nursery. As I recall, the boxes were decorated with storks and musical notes; had spaces for the babies’ names, measurements, and birth dates; and had open slots that functioned as carrying handles.

Of course, 1973 predated crash-tested car seats, and so we put little Emily and her box in what we referred to as the “wayback” of our Ford Pinto wagon, a car that subsequently earned a reputation for turning into a fireball when involved in a rear-end collision. However, I believe I did take the extra precaution of “securing” the box in place with a bungee cord.

But Emily survived, and I filed away the memory of her cardboard bassinet until a few weeks ago when I read a story in the New York Times, “Why Finland’s Newborns Sleep in Cardboard Cribs” (Eli Rosenberg, July 6, 2016). It turns out the Finnish government gives out 40,000 cardboard boxes to pregnant women who agree to have a medical exam during the first trimester of their pregnancy. The gift boxes come along with 50 items of baby ware appropriate for Finland’s frigid climate, including a warm coat and a balaclava.

The baby box program began in the late 1930s as a way to encourage mothers to visit physicians. The current Finnish infant mortality is one of the lowest in the world and less than half of ours in the United States. There are some who have been tempted to attribute this dramatic decline to the baby box program. But it is hard to tease out one factor in a country that offers a 10-month paid parental leave and guarantees that a stay-at-home parent may return to his or her job at any time before the child’s third birthday.

Even without a broad social service support system, the cardboard box crib can save lives. For families who can’t afford a crib, the box offers a safer alternative to a couch with soft cushions and face-trapping gaps between its cushions, or to a bed shared with a sleep-deprived or inebriated parent, or to an antique crib with neck-pinching slats and layers of lead-laced paint.

Given this high costs of raising a child, the option of a no-cost cardboard box crib should appeal to most young families. But you know as well as I do that parents to be (and grandparents to be) are primed to buy and are focused on creating nurseries that match the images they see in the glossy magazines targeted at their vulnerable demographic.

It will require a major public relations campaign to counteract the image that bedding one’s precious newborn in a cardboard box conjures up. But maybe there is a role for us. If pediatricians began promoting the advantages of cardboard cribs, they might just catch on. On second thought, maybe we should focus our energies on promoting more child-friendly parental leave policies.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.”

When our second daughter was born, she came home from the hospital in a box. All the babies born at Duke University Medical Center in 1973 were sent home in a cardboard box that had served as their bassinets during their stay in the newborn nursery. As I recall, the boxes were decorated with storks and musical notes; had spaces for the babies’ names, measurements, and birth dates; and had open slots that functioned as carrying handles.

Of course, 1973 predated crash-tested car seats, and so we put little Emily and her box in what we referred to as the “wayback” of our Ford Pinto wagon, a car that subsequently earned a reputation for turning into a fireball when involved in a rear-end collision. However, I believe I did take the extra precaution of “securing” the box in place with a bungee cord.

But Emily survived, and I filed away the memory of her cardboard bassinet until a few weeks ago when I read a story in the New York Times, “Why Finland’s Newborns Sleep in Cardboard Cribs” (Eli Rosenberg, July 6, 2016). It turns out the Finnish government gives out 40,000 cardboard boxes to pregnant women who agree to have a medical exam during the first trimester of their pregnancy. The gift boxes come along with 50 items of baby ware appropriate for Finland’s frigid climate, including a warm coat and a balaclava.

The baby box program began in the late 1930s as a way to encourage mothers to visit physicians. The current Finnish infant mortality is one of the lowest in the world and less than half of ours in the United States. There are some who have been tempted to attribute this dramatic decline to the baby box program. But it is hard to tease out one factor in a country that offers a 10-month paid parental leave and guarantees that a stay-at-home parent may return to his or her job at any time before the child’s third birthday.

Even without a broad social service support system, the cardboard box crib can save lives. For families who can’t afford a crib, the box offers a safer alternative to a couch with soft cushions and face-trapping gaps between its cushions, or to a bed shared with a sleep-deprived or inebriated parent, or to an antique crib with neck-pinching slats and layers of lead-laced paint.

Given this high costs of raising a child, the option of a no-cost cardboard box crib should appeal to most young families. But you know as well as I do that parents to be (and grandparents to be) are primed to buy and are focused on creating nurseries that match the images they see in the glossy magazines targeted at their vulnerable demographic.

It will require a major public relations campaign to counteract the image that bedding one’s precious newborn in a cardboard box conjures up. But maybe there is a role for us. If pediatricians began promoting the advantages of cardboard cribs, they might just catch on. On second thought, maybe we should focus our energies on promoting more child-friendly parental leave policies.

Dr. Wilkoff practiced primary care pediatrics in Brunswick, Maine, for nearly 40 years. He has authored several books on behavioral pediatrics including “How to Say No to Your Toddler.”