Let me set the scene. It’s 3:17 a.m., and I’m in my robe, crouched like a raccoon beside the crib, whispering frantic lullabies to a human who is approximately the size of a watermelon but louder than a firetruck. I’m Sister Number Two in a family where parenting wisdom gets passed down like vintage handbags—with love, eye-rolls, and a touch of spaghetti sauce. And today, we’re talking about baby cries. Yes, those cries.
Not all cries are created equal, my friend. Oh no. Each wail, squeak, and shriek carries a message—a tiny Morse code from your little dictator, who can’t speak yet but expects you to understand everything from “I’m hungry” to “I’ve dropped my sock and now I must scream.” So buckle up, because we’re about to unravel the mystery of baby cries, one decibel at a time.
The Cry of Hunger: FEED ME, MINION
You think you know hunger? Try experiencing it through a baby who just realized milk isn’t instantly available. The hunger cry is one of the most typical—and loudest—of the bunch. It usually starts with a soft whimper, a kind of polite “ahem,” and then quickly escalates to something resembling a siren.
In our house, this cry comes with a dramatic head turn, rooting motions, and sometimes, if you’re too slow, a judgy glare. I once got scolded by a four-week-old. She locked eyes with me like, “Seriously? You have ONE job.”
Tip: Watch for the signs before the full meltdown. Smacking lips, sucking fists, and turning toward your chest (even if you’re the dad) are early indicators.
The Dirty Diaper Yowl: I HAVE BEEN BETRAYED
Ah, the betrayal cry. It’s the sound of a baby realizing their tushie is wet and you haven’t done anything about it. Unlike the hunger cry, which has a sense of urgency, the diaper cry is more offended than desperate.
This one usually involves fussing that turns into crying whenever they’re jostled, like during a diaper check. Sometimes, they’ll scream harder once the diaper comes off—possibly just to keep you humble.
In our house, this was also known as “the poop scream.” And let me tell you, I’ve sung full Disney ballads just to get through a diaper change without emotional scars.
The Sleepy-Time Wail: I SWEAR I’M NOT TIRED
This is the one that gets you. Because nothing in this world makes less sense than a tired baby refusing sleep with the passion of a college student on espresso. It starts off slow—whiny, almost like complaining about a long day at the office—and then spirals into full-blown rage.
You try everything: rocking, swaddling, pacifier offering, interpretive dance. And still, they scream. At one point, I found myself apologizing to a houseplant for neglecting it during a three-hour nap battle. That’s how deep shit I was in!
Tell-tale signs? Rubbing eyes, yawning, pulling at ears, and that spaced-out stare that says, “I’m about to lose it.”
The I Need a Hug Cry: The Snuggle Trap
Not all cries are dramatic. Some are soft, pitiful, and designed to hit you right in the heart. This is the “I just want to be held” cry—also known as the Snuggle Trap, because once you fall for it, there’s no going back.
You’ll scoop them up, and poof—instantly quiet. You try to put them down like a ninja… and BAM! We’re back to square one.
I once held my baby for three hours straight while binge-watching cooking shows. She didn’t nap unless I was in a near-horizontal position with a pacifier balanced on my shoulder like a bizarre parenting sculpture. My lower back has never forgiven me.
The “I’m Bored” Whimper: YES, BABIES GET BORED
I remember laughing the first time someone told me babies cry because they’re bored. “How can someone be bored when their biggest responsibility is tummy time?” Oh, sweet summer me.
Turns out, babies are tiny royalty. If the mobile isn’t spinning just right or the toys aren’t jingling with appropriate enthusiasm, the discontent begins. This cry starts off as a fussy, restless whine and builds into a “Get me out of here!” wail.
Cue me dramatically switching between toys like a DJ, doing puppet shows with socks, and narrating everything I do like I’m in a badly produced reality show.
The “Something’s Not Right” Cry: Parental Panic Mode
This is the one that’s hardest to pin down and the one that triggers what I call Parental Panic Mode. It’s more intense. It doesn’t respond to food, cuddles, or naps. It’s the “something’s wrong” alarm.
It could be teething. Gas. A growth spurt. Or, as I once discovered at 2 a.m., a sock thread wrapped around a tiny toe. (Yes, I cried too. Full sob. Not ashamed.)
When in doubt, always check the basics:
- Temperature
- Diaper
- Clothing (nothing scratchy or too tight)
- Baby’s skin and limbs (just in case)
And don’t hesitate to call the pediatrician if you feel unconfident. You’re not being dramatic. You’re being thorough.
The “I Have No Idea Why I’m Crying” Cry
Let’s be honest. Sometimes… there’s no reason. Or at least, not one we’ll ever understand. This cry is existential. It’s the “I just realized I have hands” or “Why is the ceiling fan ignoring me?” kind of cry.
It defies all logic. You feed them, burp them, change them, cuddle them, and sing to them, and they still cry. This is the moment you start questioning your life choices while Googling “baby witching hour” and “is this normal?”
I recommend these strategies:
- Hand the baby to someone else for a few minutes
- Eat a cookie
- Cry a little (you too!)
- Try again
Because parenting, my friend, is a loop of attempts and tiny victories.
Bonus Cry: The Car Seat Meltdown
Let me add this one for the road, literally. The car seat cry comes with its own beast mode. Some babies love the motion. Others? They react like the seat is a medieval torture gadget.
My younger nephew used to go full velociraptor every time we buckled her in. And don’t get me started about red lights. Nothing like sitting in traffic while a baby behind you yells like you’ve personally ruined their life.
Pro-tip: crank up the white noise or sing off-key to “Bohemian Rhapsody.” Anything to keep the peace.
Crying and the Parenthood Paradox
Here’s the thing about baby cries—they’re frustrating, exhausting, and confusing… but they’re also communication. Your baby doesn’t have words, so cries are how they say, “Hey, something’s up!” That’s kind of miraculous if you come to think of it. They’re talking to you. You. The person they trust most.
And over time, you start to understand them. You’ll pick up on the subtle difference between a “meh” cry and a “MY WORLD IS ENDING” cry. Your partner will say, “What’s wrong with her?” and you’ll shrug and say, “She’s overtired and mad that the giraffe toy isn’t squeaky enough.” And you’ll be right.
My Sisterhood of Cries
Being Sister Number Two means I’ve had someone go before me, although no one is coming after me, at least not my own. I’ve traded stories about cry decibels with my elder one like we were comparing weather patterns. We’ve shared white noise hacks, swaddle techniques, and that one weird rocking method that looks like a TikTok dance but works.
And still, every baby is different. Each one brings a new symphony of cries that teaches you to listen, adapt, and love a little deeper—even when you’re running on cold coffee and sheer willpower.
You can watch this video to understand it better.
Final Thoughts
If you’re in the thick of it—hair wild, eyes red, holding a squirmy baby like a human burrito—know this: you’re not alone. We’ve all been there, murmuring sweet nothings to a colicky gremlin while swaying on a yoga ball and regretting our third cup of coffee.
You’ll learn your baby’s language. You’ll get better at translating their tiny yells into needs and solutions. And someday, they’ll cry a little less. (Though don’t worry, toddlers will invent entire new reasons to scream. Story for another day.)
Until then, keep those snacks close, laugh when you can, and remember: you’re doing beautifully, even if your baby disagrees at full volume.