He's crying again, which is now part of his sleeping routine. It's awful. I wish he could be one of those babies who magically decide to sleep through the night at three months. But he isn't.

Oh, fantastic. He's crying "Ma ma ma ma ma." Ugh.

I try to listen to the cry to gauge whether he really needs something, or if he just needs to sleep. Sometimes he sounds panicked, or abandoned, and that's when I go in. Sometimes he just sounds angry, so I stay out. But how would I really know which is which? It's just my gut. So much of raising babies is gut. I hate that. I hate this.