Baby Witching Hour: Surviving the Shitshow

Let’s talk about the newborn witching hour.  That charming little window of hell in the late afternoon where your once-adorable, sleepy baby clocks off from being cute and clocks on as a furious, milk-obsessed night shift manager who will not tolerate you sitting, eating, peeing alone or having a single peaceful thought.

What Actually Is the Witching Hour?

In cute, professional, baby-blog language, the witching hour is when your newborn gets:

• extra fussy
• harder to settle
• more clingy
• and seems to cry for no clear reason
  usually in the late afternoon or evening.

In real mum language, the witching hour is:

“That absolute shitshow window of time where the baby cries, you cry, someone burns dinner, your boobs hurt, your back hurts, the house is a bomb site and you question every life choice that led you here… while also loving your kid so much you could scream.”

It’s normal.
It’s common.
And no, you’re not doing anything wrong.

Babies often cluster feed, fight sleep, and get overstimulated in the evenings. Meanwhile, you’re touched out, exhausted and done with everyone’s crap… right when your baby needs you the most. Perfect timing, really.

The Witching Hour Timeline (A Very Accurate Breakdown)

4:00pm – “Today’s going okay”

You’ve survived the day.
You’ve kept the baby alive.
You maybe even drank a coffee while it was still warm-ish.

You dare to think, “Maybe we’re getting the hang of this?”
The universe laughs.

5:00pm – Baby: Oh hell no.

Baby calmly decides they will now:

• Only be held
• Only by you
• Only standing up
• With constant movement
• No, not that movement, a different, oddly specific one

Every time you dare to sit down, they scream like you’ve personally betrayed the entire bloodline and three past generations.

6:00pm – Dinner? What’s that?

Your stomach has officially gone on strike, sending you a “Hey, remember me? I’m the thing that stops you from fainting” text.
You stare at the kitchen like it’s the moon. You seriously consider eating the last few crumbs in the baby’s highchair because, well, it’s food, right?

Your partner (if you have one) casually asks,

“What are we doing for dinner?”

and in that moment you spiritually leave your body, draft their obituary, and calmly add them to your internal hit list right between “laundry” and “whoever invented tummy time”.

At this point, dinner is just whatever is within arm's reach: leftover cold pizza, a handful of cereal, and a side of pure desperation.  

7:00pm – The Emotional Spiral

Baby is crying.
You’re crying.
The dog is pacing like he’s trying to figure out how to get himself adopted by someone who isn’t completely losing it.

Someone, in their infinite “wisdom,” texts “Enjoy every moment 🥰” and you fight the urge to scream. Instead, you stare at your screen, contemplating if throwing your phone out the window would actually make you feel better.

You’re over-touched, over-stimulated, and hanging on by the thinnest thread of whatever is left of your sanity.
You love your baby—of course you do—but if one more person tells you to “cherish these fleeting moments,” you might just start cherishing the thought of disappearing for 6–8 business days into a room with zero humans, zero crying, and a solid five hours of sleep.

You’d trade your left boob and what’s left of your sanity for five uninterrupted minutes of silence. Honestly, at this point you’d settle for 30 seconds.

8:00pm – “For the love of God... just go the fck to sleep”**

You’ve rocked, bounced, fed, burped, changed nappy, changed onesie, changed swaddles. walked laps of the house, and performed a swaying dance routine that would put Beyoncé to shame.

Baby’s eyes?
Wide.
Bloodshot.

Definitely planning world domination.

You start questioning everything:

• Is it wind?
• Are they overtired?
• Are they hungry AGAIN, or are they just messing with you?
• Is Mercury still in retrograde, or is it just your entire life right now?
• Is this a punishment for something you did in your last life?

You’ve tried literally everything, but the little monster is still wide awake, staring at you like they’re about to drop some brutal truth bombs about your parenting skills.

9:00pm – The “I’m a Sh*t Mum” Hour

This is when the guilt really hits.
You think:

• “Why can’t I settle my own baby?”
• “Why does everyone else seem to have their shit together?”
• “Maybe I’m just not cut out for this.”

Meanwhile, all those people who told you to “enjoy every second!” conveniently forgot to mention that some of those moments are pure nightmares in cute onesies.

Here’s the thing:
You’re not a sh*t mum.
You’re a human mum, surviving on 3 hours of sleep, a cold coffee, and the unwavering hope that maybe tomorrow will be a little less hellish.

10:00pm – My sweet angel

Out of nowhere, the witching hour ends.
Baby falls asleep, looking like a literal cherub.
Your heart melts.

And you lie there in the dark thinking:

• “Okay, I’d do it all again tomorrow.”
• (You will. Sorry.)

Things No One Tells You About the Witching Hour

Let’s be blunt:

1. It’s Not Your Fault

Your newborn is not screaming because:

• Your lounge room isn’t “calm enough”
• You didn’t use the right baby wash
• You had a non-organic snack 3 days ago

They’re tiny.
Their nervous systems are immature.
Evenings can be overwhelming for their little bodies and brains.

You can do everything “right” and still have a baby who goes full pterodactyl from 5–9pm. That doesn’t mean you’re failing. It means your baby is… a baby.

2. It’s Okay to Hate It

You’re allowed to hate the witching hour and still love your baby fiercely.

You can:

• Be grateful you have a baby
  AND
• Think “this sucks” while pacing your hallway at 8:30pm

Two things can be true at once.
You’re not ungrateful. You’re not broken. You’re just stuck in the hardest part of the day with a tiny, loud roommate who doesn’t know how to regulate anything yet.

3. Your Nervous System Is Cooked Too

We talk so much about babies being overstimulated, but let’s talk about you.

By evening, you’ve:

• Been “on” all day
• Answered a million questions (even if only from Google)
• Listened to crying, cooing, white noise, TV, and your own inner critic

Your nervous system is fried.
You’re touched out, peopled out, and sensory overloaded.
So when the witching hour hits, it’s no wonder you feel like screaming into a pillow.

Survival Tips for the Witching Hour (Straight From a Mum Who’s Totally Lost It)

Alright, mamas, here’s the deal. The Witching Hour is that special time of day when you’re questioning every life choice that led you here, and your baby’s about to turn into a tiny, demanding dictator. So, here’s how to survive it (barely):

1. Embrace the chaos – Don’t bother trying to make sense of it. The more you fight it, the worse it gets. Just roll with the meltdown and pretend you have it all together.
2. Snacks are your friend – Whatever you’ve got in the pantry, shove it in your face.
3. Take it in shifts – If you have a partner, make them earn their keep. Tag-team like your life depends on it (because it kind of does).
4. Lower your standards – Seriously, your idea of “doing the best” now is getting through the next hour without a full-on breakdown. Celebrate small wins, like successfully getting them into their jammies without them projectile vomiting.
5. Wine – Self-explanatory.

At the end of the day, you're doing your best, and even though the Witching Hour might feel like it’s going to swallow you whole, it’s just a phase (and, spoiler alert: it does get easier... eventually). Keep breathing. You’ve got this, even if you don’t believe it right now.

3. Tag Your Partner In (If You Have One)

If there’s another adult in the house, they are not a “helper”. They are a parent.

They can:

• Wear the baby in a carrier
• Take over rocking after a feed
• Handle dinner
• Do the dishes
• Bring you food and water

You’re not being “demanding”. You’re being a mother doing 400 invisible jobs and needing backup.

4. Don’t Do It in Silence

Even if you’re physically alone, you don’t have to be emotionally alone.

Text a mum friend:

“Witching hour. Send memes or wine emojis.”

Or follow pages and blogs that talk about real postpartum life (not just curated white linen and smiling babies).

Knowing other mums are also:

• pacing their lounge room
• hiding in the toilet for 30 seconds of silence
• eating biscuits for dinner

…can make it feel a little less heavy.

The SEO Bit (Because Yes, You Probably Found This at 3am)

If you’re here after searching things like:

• “why is my newborn crying every evening”
• “how to survive the witching hour with a newborn”
• “newborn witching hour tips for exhausted mums”
• “cluster feeding all night help”

then let me tell you the thing Google doesn’t say clearly enough:

You’re not broken.
Your baby’s not broken.
The newborn witching hour is brutal, but it’s a phase – a very loud, emotional, swear-inducing phase.

And it is normal.

You’re Not Failing. You’re Mothering in Hard Mode.

If you’re in the thick of it right now – baby screaming, your eyes burning, dinner a distant dream – this is your reminder:

• You’re a good mum even when you’re counting down the minutes till bedtime.
• You’re a good mum even when you need to put the baby down safely and take 2 minutes to breathe.
• You’re a good mum even when you’re thinking “I didn’t know it would be this hard.”

One day, the witching hour will fade.
You won’t remember every scream or every lap of the hallway.

Until then, snacks, swearing under your breath and sarcastic memes are absolutely part of a valid coping strategy.

You’re not alone, mama.
You’re just in the witching hour – and it’s a bloody wild ride. 🖤