The Screaming Hour: A real-life horror story

It moves in like a mist. Steady. Deliberate. Unwavering. You don’t know where it comes from or why, but you know it’s coming — and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Then it hits. It envelopes you, but not a warm embrace like a hug; it’s more like an uncomfortable grope. This is the screaming hour, and it’s a parent’s worst nightmare.

Almost nightly for the last two weeks, Alice has screamed. It’s not colic, it’s not hunger, it’s not an uncomfy or damp nappy. It seems to be over-tiredness, because when she does calm down she sleeps immediately and wonderfully. But until then, it’s a period of banshee-like wailing that, remarkably, hasn’t gotten us booted from our complex.

Let me tell you what it sounds like:

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
WAH! WAH! WAH!

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!

For anywhere between 20 mins on a good day, to four and a half hours (!!!) on the two particularly rough days. And we have a really good and easy kid! Alice normally starts at about 5pm and can go on until 8pm, meaning that I often only really spend time with my baby when she’s a crying, really unhappy child — that in itself is tough, but that’s another story for another day. Oh, and it’s nowhere as difficult for dad as it is for mom, who has the entire day with the little one. But I digress.

Remember when I said “scream, baby, scream” on the day Alice was born? I regret that. Deeply.

Apparently this is something all babies go through. It’s called the “witching hour”, or the “twighlight zone”, or the “it’s amazing how mommy and daddy are still together after one afternoon of this wailing” session. Okay, I might have made that last one up, but you get the idea.

If you’re a parent, you’ve gone through this — or will go through this. So here are some tips that we’ve picked up:

• Tick all the boxes. Make sure the nappy is clean, baby is fed and not too hot (South African summers are brutal on newborns), and that external noisy factors (our dogs often disturb her, for example) are kept to a minimum.
• Take it in turns. About halfway through week one of this screaming tomfoolery — it was a Thursday at about 8pm and remember it vividly — I had Alice in my arms and she was crying and niggly and screaming and I couldn’t do it anymore. I handed her over to Megan in an almost this-is-your-child-deal-with-it way. She did deal with it. Like a champ. On other nights I’ve taken Alice to the spare room with a bottle and let Meg have a complete night off. You have to share the load. Single parents, I salute you endlessly. This is tough, even on the good days. And teamwork is a big deal.
• Think of the good stuff. When your kid is screaming and it feels like the little one won’t ever stop, it’s easy to forget how much you love that kid. But you do. Endlessly. So when it is asleep, admire how beautiful it is and focus on how happy it makes you. Talk to the kid out load (you’re letting yourself hear those words more than anything else) about how you feel — I’ve told Alice how much her crying frustrates me, but that it’ll never change my feelings. Bank the good stuff, because you’ll need that stockpile when it gets tough.
• Listen to other parents. They’ve been through it. They’ll have tips and tricks. Some of those might make your life easier. Some might not work. There’s no harm in trying.
• Don’t listen to other parents. Sometimes people say stupid things — I’ve written about this before — and will freak you out. They’ll tell you your child might have a temp (as if this isn’t something I would check…), or offer some kind of diagnosis from their years and years at medical school. Advice is good, yes, but there’s a lot of it you can — and should — write off and ignore.
• Be nice to each other. Baby’s crying, mom’s grumpy and so is dad. That’s okay. When the moment passes, make each other coffee, compliment the one who got the kid to relax and sleep, watch crappy tv to unwind before bed. Whatever. Just be nice.
• Try different things. Sometimes things work; sometimes those same things don’t. Alice used to fall asleep cradled in my arms, now she cries at the very thought. Then putting her on her side next to me in bed would work, then it stopped working, and now it works again. She used to love having her face tickled, now she associates that with sleep and is grumpy when I even try to do it. The car might work for you, or baby-wearing. Just try.
• DON’T GIVE UP. It gets better. We’ve gotten Alice into a routine and she’s been a dream for the last two days. It’s a phase. You’ll be fine, and so will she.