A ‘Purple Crier’

I Had a “Purple Crier” Here’s what I did

By Dr Alison McClymont

Purple Crying as defined on the NHS website:

P – Peak crying: Your baby might cry more each week - the most in the second month, then less in months three to five.

U – Unexpected: Crying can come and go and you don’t know why

R – Resists soothing: your baby might not stop crying no matter what you try.

P – Pain-like face: a crying baby might look like they are in pain, even when they are not.

L – Long lasting: crying can last as long as five hours a day or more.

E – Evening: your baby might cry more in the late afternoon and evening.

“All babies cry.” “Have you tried doing x/y/z?” “You should let her self-soothe.” “Its gas.” “It’s reflux.” I heard it all and I tried it all.

I spent hours researching different ways to hold babies, different massage techniques, cranial osteopathy, homeopathy, changing my diet, changing feeding times, changing feeding positions, infacol, colief, chamomile oil, changing sleep positions, getting elevated sleep pillow things, playing white noise, playing music, changing bedroom temperatures, sleeping in car seats, not sleeping in car seats and endless walking up and down stairs. I even tried a strange practice of stepping up and down off a coffee table… there was not one thing I wouldn’t try. But nothing worked - she still cried.

What Purple Crying looked like for me

For the first 5-6 months of my eldest child’s life, she cried unrelentingly for up to 5 hours at a time. The mornings were usually the worst and the only thing that stopped her was near-constant breastfeeding on my part, and this I did. I had many people tell me that I should “feed on a schedule”, but breastfeeding was the only thing that offered me some mental space, and I did it happily - my daughter seemed to relax only when she was on the breast. I tried a dummy for a day, but she refused and in my newmother-sleep-deprived state I was so overwhelmed by different messages, I latched on strongly to the idea that a dummy was not the solution. I remember feeling confused, exhausted, emotionally battered and completely out of my body. I went to a play date with some other new mums and watched in astonishment as one mother just lay her baby down to sleep without any crying whatsoever or any convoluted routine of breastfeeding/bouncing/commando rolling away from the cot. “Is she just going to sleep like that?!” I asked, as though I was witnessing some kind of

magic. “Yes, was all the other mother said, confused by my confusion. I spent the remaining two hours of the playdate bouncing my daughter on my hip and pacing the living room, whilst trying not to spill my cup of tea. I realised quite early on in this journey that nothing distresses other people quite so much as a crying baby, and nothing is more stressful to a mother trying to deal with a crying baby, than other people’s distress. I cannot count the times I left cafes, shops, play spaces and baby classes due to my embarrassment at having a baby whom I couldn’t get to stop crying. I remember distinctly holding my daughter in a baby carrier in a supermarket, whilst she was crying, and a woman demanding angrily, “Can’t you do something about that”? To which I hurriedly tried to breastfeed whilst she was in the carrier (a talent that I quickly developed!) only to be confronted by a snappy, “Well you can’t do that in here, there’s a toilet if you need to do that”. Turns out nothing distresses some people quite so much as a breastfeeding-in-public mother, with a crying baby…

How I Got Through It

There were a few things that really helped me through that difficult and sometimes dark period. I set myself three goals every day: the first was to get dressed, the second to get out of the house and the third to socially connect with others. These goals may sound small but when you are the parent of a “purple crier”, getting out of the house can feel like the last place you want to be. Yet I found that, sometimes, just stepping outdoors helped to calm my daughter and, if not, the crying at least seemed a little less cacophonous in the open air. I also found that getting out meant I had other tasks on which to focus and sometimes this meant my daughter did too - if nothing else, it broke up our routine and offered us both some needed mental relief.

Daily social connection (preferably face-to-face) did the same. From a purely practical standpoint I found that walking up and down stairs, or on and off a low surface, for some reason stopped the crying (apparently it aids in moving gas, but whatever it was it worked for me). I also found that daily massages helped - they didn’t stop my daughters crying, but they were at least a well-intentioned way for us to connect. It was the same with daily warm baths.

My reflections and advice

When I look back, I wonder if there was anything I would have done differently and there are a few things… I think I wouldn’t listen to quite so many judgmental messages around dummy use, and I definitely wouldn’t be so concerned with other people’s views around what I am and am not doing. But mostly, I wouldn’t change anything. I did the best I could and followed the instincts my body gave me. If you are the parent of a “purple crier” this, above all things, is my best advice: YOU are the expert of your child and YOU know what is best for your child. Stand strong in that stance and take time to repeat to yourself, “I am doing a good job, and every day I am learning to be a better mother”.

When my daughter was 6 months old, I was introduced to a new mother who was also struggling with Purple Crying and I offered to go and meet her to offer some support. When we met, she marveled at my daughter playing happily on the mat, seemingly unable to imagine that THIS was the girl I had told her used to cry for hours and hours at a time. But I assured her it was, and that she too would find that this difficult phase she was going through would not endure forever. I went through a time thinking “this will never end” and I would read stories of people who only found respite after 12 months and I wondered how I would get there, but - mother to mother - I assure you with love and strength that “this too will pass”. You got this Mama.

Dr Alison McClymont is a leading child psychotherapist with over a decade’s worth of experience at the forefront of the industry. She is the author of children’s book Wilbur’s Memory Box. Keep up-to-date with Dr Alison on Instagram @alisonmcclymontinsta