Why Does My Child Scream Uncontrollably?

When people envision having children, this is not one of the questions they often imagine asking. We’re not talking about the comprehensible “someone took a toy I want” or “I want more pudding” screaming. This question tries to get to the root of that senseless, total loss of control, incessant screeching that afflicts so much of the under-five crowd.

Anyone trawling the internet for the answer to the question, “Why does my child scream uncontrollably?” is not looking for a philosophical answer, but such an answer is worth chewing on for a while. It won’t fix the issue at-hand in a jiffy, but, alas, as is so often the case with the path of true freedom: the way is narrow.

First, it’s worth pausing to wonder: Is the screaming something new? Few are the grandparents who recollect such episodes with their own docile and well-behaved children. “Something is different about kids these days,” they remark. However, these accounts should be taken with a grain of salt, as memory is a flexible and sometimes much-forgiving vantage point. Maybe their children had cataclysmic meltdowns just as much as the kids of today. On the other hand, maybe they really didn’t.

Parenting has certainly changed. But maybe kids have changed, too. In one of his standup routines, Jerry Seinfeld quipped about the length parents go to in order to lull their children to sleep. Blackout curtains, sound machines, rocking, video monitors, heartrate monitors, shushing, patting, fans, tents that go over cribs—the paraphernalia of going to bed has escalated in ways the most avaricious capitalist could have only dreamed. As Seinfeld noted, back when he was a kid, bedtime was pretty simple: it was just dark. That was the cue that you were on your own to figure out how to go to sleep.

Now, apparently, lots of kids are constitutionally incapable of calming themselves. There are the children left to wind down who get so worked up that they vomit. Such an episode is generally met with shock and horror from people whose children are grown or who—even better—intentionally never had children. What kind of monster would leave a child to vomit himself to sleep? Well, when you have been the sole adult responsible for an overtired one-year-old in a nation that requires constant, direct vigilance of said child while thousands of miles away from extended family and in which hiring someone to assist in supervising said child can cost upwards of $20 per hour, the scenario begins to seem more understandable.

Once overtired, any stimulation will likely further distress the child, yet, the absence of stimulation in the blackout curtained, silent, sealed sleeping chamber at the optimal temperature with specially designed sleeping clothes, the helpless tyke is reduced to rage vomiting. Any moderately competent mother or father will get it cleaned up in short order, but it is not outside the realm of possibility for many average families. And it’s a bit mystifying.

Back to the question: Why? Some children seem born prone to rage. Without fail, someone will tell you, upon hearing your newborn wail, that you must take her to a chiropractor. Instead of an hour or two of someone supervising your child, you get for your 20 bucks five minutes of dubious spinal adjustments for your birth-traumatized neonate. Miraculous according to some, scam according to others. Thankfully, the sheer impracticality of lugging multiple kids to such niche appointments with not insignificant costs will excuse most of us from having to puzzle too long on that one.

The chiropractor does bring an issue to the fore, though: Perhaps some children are born with something amiss, out-of-balance, or underdeveloped. Maybe there is a physical cause of the chronic distress that shows itself in red-faced car seat rides, sleepless nights, and evenings of endless wailing.

What about after the child grows? Though not a baby, many a two- and three-year-old will be reduced to abject screeching for no discernable reason. Usually not as frequently as the babe-in-arms but with equal mystery.

In the environment of the home, some things have changed and it does not seem insane—though, of course, viewed as wholly unscientific—to speculate on the effects of these changes. We have all, or almost all, of us installed these puzzling contraptions radiating WiFi-internet signals 24 hours a day, seven days a week. Is it like the high-pitched cellphone ringtone that only the young are still attuned to perceive? Are we driving our children batty with ricocheting electronic signals interfering with basic cellular functioning. The accepted answer is no, but you can’t help wondering some days.

There’s any number of outlandish sources of distress one can speculate on with little possibility of substantial progress. Some people think that the appropriate treatment of a three-year-old screaming for 90 minutes before collapsing to sleep is to cart him off to a behaviorist “because he should know how to talk about what he’s feeling.” The parents here are not at fault. They see an issue. They’re trying to address it. But that is insane.

Gentle parenting rears its ugly head here (What? How could you say gentle parenting can be bad? There’s a saying about good intentions…): we see someone feeling something and assume that the proper path is to fixate and find further expression. What the child is so obviously feeling is: tired, maybe hungry, possibly so done with all noise ever, perhaps, “if anyone makes another sound or I see a light in my eyes one more time I’m literally going to die.” Having a cuddle to talk this through might not be a great approach for some kids. A child, even a fully speaking child of five, may be beyond the reach of words momentarily.

As with the mother of the child, we would be misguided if we were to zero in on a small segment of daily life and try to force a solution to the 90 minutes of screaming. The episode of anguish is a response to a lifestyle (maybe something specific but for most people probably oodles of little things accumulating without adequate rest). Surrounded by anxious and depressed overweight people, we can see pretty quickly the general way of doing things is not going very well. A whole-life solution comes from the culture within the family and the home.

In her book for homeschooling mothers, “Mother Culture,” Karen Andreola. She defines her subject, writing, “Mother Culture is the skillful art with which a mother looks after the ways of her household and herself. In her home she creates a culture all her own with a mingling of love and responsibility. A mother does a lot of taking care, so she also takes care of herself. So much depends on how she manages her life.” If a mother is continually hectored and harried, her children are unlikely to have peace. If the home is a peaceful place and life has predictable lulls, the child may calm down. Of course, there are frequently reasons to deviate from the norm—taking trips, having guests, star-gazing—but the key is to have a rule to return to, a rule that orders our domestic realm.

Once in a Vermont country store, a man of considerable girth and much innerpeace waxed poetic about the hours he has spent observing animals. He described their calm and self-assurance, offering him reprieve in times of grief. It’s reasonable to forego a move to rural Vermont, though it is a hoot. However, can there be a space in the day to do something as tranquil and restorative as silently observe fish swimming through a pond, squirrels scrabbling up the tree trunks, and the habits of neighborhood cats and raccoons. Gradually expanding the time that is not spent energetically active is a key ingredient for some born screamers. Self-mastery is possible, but only little bit by little bit.

Another hopeful storyline to pay attention to: many families find that the first child is the one who cries the most. Subsequent children develop in such a way that they are generally more content, able to soothe themselves. Could it be “le pause” because everyone is busy with other things? Could it be a more suitable developmental environment? Could it be that the parents were just more hyper and clueless with the first?

Whatever the answers to these questions that have no answers, there are actions we can take this hour in our home to reclaim moments for peace and calm. Each child is different, but if yours is screaming uncontrollably and trying mighty hard to kick a hole in the drywall, this need not be accepted as “just the way things are.” Calming down is a whole-life exercise and a lifelong one. No better time to start than now.