The first time I had mother's intuition was before my son was born -- about 9 months before, in fact -- when I just knew I was pregnant.

My husband doubted me, with good reason. But reason wasn't a factor for me. I didn't need a home pregnancy test or doctor to tell me I was carrying a little baby. My body told me. My soul told me.

To humor my husband, I took a pregnancy test. And I did, of course, immediately follow up with a visit to the doctor for vitamins and other necessary treatment.

But meeting my maternal instincts for the first time was like meeting myself as a parent and knowing, just knowing, it would be OK.

I've always been a big believer in listening to my gut, I just never realized my gut had a special place in it reserved for parenting.

My mother's intuition told me my baby was a boy, even though we didn't have the gender determined by ultrasound or any other means. The only medical indication was that our baby's heartbeat was slow the last two weeks before birth, which is typical for a boy.

I also knew before my son was born that he would be very physically active. He hardly rested at all while he grew inside me, so I was not at all surprised that he was 4 years old before he slept through the night for the first time. I knew he'd be a restless child.

From the moment he started nursing, he has been intense. "Spirited," the books call it. And I knew from an early age that this would be a defining characteristic of his, not just a phase. As a newborn, an infant, a toddler, and ever since, Colter has been, well, Colter. And I've known him in a way no one else can.

Before I experienced it, I didn't believe it was possible to have such a developed sense of someone else. And I certainly had no reason to believe I would have such a sixth sense, since my mother didn't seem to have any parenting instincts at all.

When I worried out loud about the kind of parent I'd be, how able I'd be to read and interpret my child's signals, I was discouraged by all the mothers who said to me, "Don't worry, you'll just know."

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"But how will I know?" I'd ask. "How?"

I'm not a big believer in things I cannot explain. I am a skeptic.

Just tell me, I'd say, how exactly will I be able to tell one cry from another? One diaper from another? How will I be able to tell my child is sick just by looking in his eyes?

"I don't know," they'd say. "You just will."

And for the most part, they were right.

Now that my son is 8 years old, I can walk through the door after a day at work, take one look at him and know he's sick; I can tell when he is lying to me, and when he's up to something in another room, out of sight.

I can't explain it, but I've come to accept this way of knowing.

Some mothers say they don't have this instinct. Perhaps they don't. Or perhaps they're just not listening for it.

And I'm certainly not saying that God or nature or evolution made us good parents by biology or inclination, even if she/he/it enabled us to understand our offspring intuitively.

Anyone who knows me knows how much I struggle as a mother. I'm far from perfect. I make flawed choices, compromise when others wouldn't and sometimes have no idea how to handle some situations.

I have not been lured by this mother's intuition into a false sense of security. It's had the opposite effect on me. It has made me more vigilant.

With this knowledge comes responsibility, a responsibility to pay attention to and nurture this intuition, while informing it, arguing with it and deciding when to trust it.

I don't think mother's intuition has made me a better parent, but it has made me a somewhat more confident one.

Don't ask me how I know. I just know.

Julie Moos is a thirtysomething who lives with her husband and son. Her column appears every other Thursday. To read more of her thoughts, visit MomInTheMirror.com.