When Evenings Feel the Longest with a Baby | New Mum Reality

There’s a point in the day where everything shifts.

Late afternoon moves into evening,
your energy dips,
and somehow everything feels harder.

For the first five months, I was scared of what every night would bring.

I don’t think that feeling ever fully went away - my eldest is a teenager and I still catch myself wondering if he will sleep tonight.

Surviving the purple crying period was brutal.
There was no thriving in it — just surviving.

Nothing worked like it did the day before.
Yesterday’s rhythm meant nothing today.

And at the same time, you’re being bombarded with “just try this” advice —
from people who mean well, but aren’t the ones in it with you.

Woman holding a baby in front of sheer curtains with soft lighting

For a while, our son would nap through those evening hours.

We thought we had somehow missed it.
That we had gotten through without it arriving.

But then it came — all at once.

He would go from zero to one hundred within seconds.
No warning. No build up.

What worked yesterday didn’t even touch it today.

We became used to hours of crying.
Uncomfortable with how long it could last.

It felt never ending.

I would take him into another room
so our other kids could have some time with their dad in peace.

But it didn’t stay contained.

It took over the whole house.

Eventually, things started to shift.

Two hours became one hour and fifty.
Getting out of the bath stopped triggering another round.

Eventually.

But, that word is hard to hear when you’re in it —
when you feel like you can’t take another day of it.

That’s when you lean on your people.

Even if they can’t stop the crying,
they can be there with you.

On the phone.
On a text.
Dropping off dinner.
Taking the baby for a walk while you sit in the quiet for a moment.

You don’t have to carry it on your own.

For me, a lot of that was my husband.

We were in it together — even when we could barely stand.

Feeding each other dinner when the crying finally stopped,
too scared to move in case it started again.

Taking turns.
Holding the weight of it between us.

I’d be lost without him.

Having someone who wants to be in the thick of it with you
makes an indescribable amount of difference.

Some nights, nothing works.

And it’s not because you’re doing anything wrong.

It’s just a hard part of the day.
A hard season.

And sometimes all you can do is stay in it with them,
until it passes.

And eventually — it does.

Slowly, and then all at once.