Before my first baby, I was told that as a mother, I would automatically understand my baby's different cries.
I would know which one meant hungry, or lonely. It wasn't always going to be different in a way you could define, but just like when you met "the one" ("I just knew"), you would "just know" what each cry meant.
I didn't. Not a bit.
I pretty much figured out that "knowing" what each cry meant really meant trying every possible thing it could be until you finally found the right one, when you sigh with relief and more than a little bit of exasperation.
Chalking it all up to that being yet another one of those Mommy myths ("It's just a phase", "Stretch marks will fade" and, my personal favorite, "You don't mind changing it when it's your kids poop".), I forgot about it.
Until I had another baby.
And I see it now. I know.
I know when she's hungry or tired or over-stimulated. I can tell when she's lonely and that little cry can turn into a coo if I just sit with her and talk for a few minutes. I can tell when she needs a new diaper, if she's chilly or if she just wants a little snuggling. I'm not always right, but I'm pretty darn close.
I don't know if this is because I not a 'new' mother, so I'm less worried about what I 'should' be doing. I'm just doing it. I don't know if part of it is because I am more comfortable this time around with being a mom to this helpless little thing.
Or if Peanut, like most females, is just a better communicator. There might be something to this whole battle of the sexes thing.