somewhere between five and seven in the evening a newborn starts, does not stop, and nothing you try touches it. and because it happens at the same time every night it feels like a signal — like you are being told something.
you are not. that is the curve.
every baby cries more in the first three months than at any other point in their life. it climbs from around two weeks, peaks somewhere in the six-to-eight week range, and tapers off by three or four months. and it clusters in the evening. that pattern has a name — the period of purple crying — and the letters stand for peak, unpredictable, resistant to soothing, pain-like, long bouts, evening.
i have a newborn right now, which is why i went and read what is actually known about this instead of guessing. and the single most useful sentence in all of it says to stop looking for the reason.
“resistant to soothing” is the part nobody warns you about
that word is in the middle of the name on purpose. a baby in this stretch can be fed, burped, dry, warm and comfortable and still cry, and nothing you do reliably shortens it.
the instruction that comes with it is blunt: once you have checked those things, stop trying to work out why — you probably will not find out — and spend the effort on what helps instead. that is not giving up. that is the advice, from the people who hand this out in pediatric offices.
which matters, because the hours spent diagnosing it are hours you are not asleep.
about the word colic
the common working definition is crying three or more hours a day, three or more days a week, for three or more weeks. notice what that is: a threshold on a normal thing, not a diagnosis of a broken one. it describes how much, not why.
the big medical sources list the suspected causes and then label them unconfirmed: an immature digestive system, too little healthy gut bacteria, a food sensitivity, feeding too much or too little, not enough burping, a form of childhood migraine, stress in the house. that is a list of maybes. nobody has nailed it down.
two things in there are worth holding onto. the first is that colic which resolves before six months has no known short- or long-term medical consequences for the child. the second is that you should not wait three weeks to ask for help — the definition needs three weeks, your pediatrician does not.
so what do you actually do at 6pm
you stop aiming for silence and aim for getting through it. in practice, six things, five of them free.
sucking
it is the cheapest calming reflex a baby has. a pacifier is a reasonable thing to offer at this hour, and at sleep time it is part of standard safe-sleep guidance once feeding is established. if it falls out after they are asleep, leave it.
containment
a snug wrap settles some babies and does nothing for others, and you find out in four minutes. zip or velcro swaddles are easier than a blanket at 6pm with one hand.
the hard stop on this one: swaddling ends at the first attempt to roll, not the first successful roll, and some babies try at two months. a swaddled baby who gets face-down cannot use their arms to lift their head. that deadline is not negotiable and it arrives earlier than people expect.
sound
continuous, not reactive — on the whole time rather than switching on when they cry. a sound machine beats a phone that pauses for notifications.
two rules. these machines go far louder than anything a baby needs, so set it low enough to talk over. and it sits across the room, not on the crib rail.
low light
not for the crying — for what comes after it. if the stretch ends in a feed, doing it under a dim nightlight rather than the ceiling light is the difference between a feed and a party.
feeding, including a lot of it
evening cluster feeding is normal and not evidence your supply has failed. if bottles are in the mix, warm them in water — a bottle warmer makes the 6pm version survivable — and never in the microwave, which heats unevenly and leaves hot spots in the middle of a bottle that feels fine on your wrist.
not more layers
a hot baby fusses more, and the furnace just came on in most of the northeast, so the instinct to bundle is strong and usually wrong. what goes on them for sleep is a sleep sack rather than anything loose, and the whole argument — including why the sleep answer is not the going-outside answer — is in a blanket is not how you keep a baby warm.
the most important thing in this post is a safe place to put them down
this is the one i want to say plainly, because it is the part that is about safety rather than soothing.
if you are overwhelmed, it is safe to put the baby on their back in a crib or a bassinet, walk out of the room, and take a few minutes. a crying baby in a safe sleep space is fine. that is not neglect and it is not failure — it is in the handout, in those words.
and the reason it is in the handout: never shake a baby. shaking causes serious brain damage and it kills babies, and the risk is highest for a caregiver who does not know this crying is normal, has not been told about the curve, and has nobody to hand the baby to. that is why the curve gets explained at all. every single person who will ever watch your baby alone needs to know those two sentences — the partner, the grandparent, the teenager down the street.
put the help in place while you are calm — somebody who takes the 6pm shift twice a week, even for twenty minutes. and keep a big insulated tumbler wherever you do the holding, because three hours pinned under a baby with no water in reach is its own problem, especially if you are nursing.
the other thing worth naming: this crying is linked to postpartum depression, to stopping breastfeeding earlier than planned, and to guilt, exhaustion and anger. the peak of it lands in the same week as the six-week checkup, which is a lot to carry into a fifteen-minute appointment — and the six-week appointment is not the finish line it gets sold as. say the true thing at it anyway.
when it is not the curve
i am not a clinician. the curve is a pattern, and a pattern that changes is information. call your pediatrician — today, not at the next visit — for any of this:
- crying that is sudden, different from the usual, or sounds like pain rather than protest.
- under three months, a rectal temperature of 100.4°F or higher. that is a phone call now, not a dose of anything.
- vomiting, blood in the stool, a hard swollen belly, or a baby who has stopped feeding well.
- fewer wet diapers than usual.
- a baby who is limp, floppy, or hard to wake.
- any fall, knock, or shake — including one you are not sure about.
- you are frightened of how you feel. that is a same-day call too, and it is the one people sit on.
and so you know what is coming: the tapering is real. around three to four months the curve comes down, and sleep reorganizes into adult stages at roughly the same time — that one is not a regression either. i have been wrong about newborn sleep in public before and corrected it, so read the tone here as somebody who has learned not to promise a method.
disclosure
some links above are walmart affiliate links and i get a small commission if you buy through them, at no cost to you. straight with you: none of the eight products here are ones i can document using myself, so every one is a category pick — what the job needs, not what is in my house. the one baby product i have written about as mine is an oxygen-monitor sock, and it has no business in a post about crying. none of this crying is fixable by buying anything, and i would rather say that down here than imply otherwise above it. #ad #WalmartPartner
i made a postpartum recovery kit — two pages on what the fourth trimester actually involves and what to have in the house before you need it, including the symptoms that are a phone call. free, on the resource library page with the rest of the printables.
drop your email and i will send you the library.
One thought on “I Have A Newborn Right Now. The 6pm Crying Is Not A Problem You Can Fix.”