Picture this: It was March of 2012 and unseasonably warm. I’m talking eighty-degree weather unseasonably warm. My son was having his first birthday party, and I thought it would be nice to celebrate outside and enjoy the sunshine and warm air. In my woodsy backyard, I splayed out a nice checkered picnic blanket over the sun-warmed lawn, covered the blanket with colorful rattles, blocks, and some other toys my son received as presents. I officially moved the party outdoors so we could soak up the shockingly early signs of spring. Guests were smiling, laughing and sharing their love for my one-year-old baby boy. My son was giggling on the blanket, enjoying the belly pokes, the leg squeezes and he especially loved being able to be pants-free outdoors.
Never did I predict that on my son’s first birthday, he would give the party guests a sneak peek into his noticeably higher levels of sensitivity. I couldn’t have anticipated he would act like the grass was tiny glass needles piercing his feet as we held him hovering, feet dangling, over the tips of the green blades. He sure was “extra sensitive” tsked a party guest. “He’s being so strange,” cackled another. My son’s reactions and expressions to the grass on that day in March 2012 were something that resembled a preface in a novel; my son was giving me a heads up that he was going to be an extra-feeling kid. He was going to be a sensitive child.
Fast forward to present day. I’ve never defined myself as particularly sensitive, so I never expected my children would be. Today, I know that to be an erroneous assumption. My son is sensitive. He cries when he is frustrated, he cries when he is disappointed, he cries when he gets scared. Heck, he cries when he thinks he is about to get into trouble. He cries, he cries, he cries. Even though at times I become hair-grayingly frustrated (hey, I’m human), his sensitivity has made me a better mother. His crying is a way to communicate. It shows me that he’s stressed out, low on sleep, maybe feeling under the weather; whatever it is, there’s a reason for it. Moms like you recognize it too.
Raising a sensitive boy is a tricky task. It takes a tribe, a load of patience and a whole lot of understanding. Communicating with tears out in public isn’t generally well-received by others. Most people become awkward around tears (uncomfortable back slaps anyone?) Whispers from society tell boys to “be strong”, “fight through the pain”, “don’t show emotion,” and the worst one ever, “crying is for girls.” These age-old stereotypes are especially challenging for me to explain to my son after he’s heard another parent casually say them in jest — for a sensitive child, words hurt as much as physical pain.
Through the years, I’ve been lucky enough to have other moms step in and share their own wisdom they’ve learned from raising a sensitive child of their own. The best advice I stumbled across was, “Listen and respect your child’s feelings; there’s no cure for sensitivity, but there’s power in learning to cope.” I think defining the word “cope” will be different for each child, but the general idea is valuable. We can all learn something from one another, and that includes adults learning from our children. If my son’s crying means he’s trying to tell me he’s at his maximum level of stress, I can deal with that and then I will do my best to help him adapt.
Crying IS coping. Scientifically speaking, crying is a great stress reliever! Bottling up feelings, even for young children, is hazardous to their health–literally. Kids experience daily stresses, and their bodies react to that stress in much the same way an adult’s body does. So to rid themselves of stress, children cry. Crying releases toxins within the body, helping the body relax and balance itself back out. Maybe my son is crying all the time (ok, that’s an exaggeration, but I am making a point), but I am learning to embrace that because I want him healthy.
What I’ve learned in this short time raising a sensitive child is that I need to let him feel all the feels. I can’t control his crying by disciplining him or shaming him. What I can do is support him and teach him how to cope through different modes of communication. My son is active, he’s smart, he’s funny (I still love poking his soft belly). Most importantly, my son loves fiercely. I don’t see sensitivity as a flaw, it’s a personality characteristic that is always developing, just like we both are.
You might also like to read: Your Child’s A Hot Mess At Night? Be Grateful
