How one Conversation changed the way i parent… forever

When Cruz first met his baby brother, Jase, he walked up to his tiny, sleeping sibling and gently placed a chocolate-covered strawberry on his lips — waiting to see if he’d taste it. Then, with the sweetest, most hopeful voice, he set a tiny toy truck on Jase’s lap and asked, “Maybe he play toys?”

My heart swelled. I thought this was the beginning of a beautiful sibling bond. What I couldn’t see yet was that this tender moment would soon give way to one of the hardest, most heartbreaking seasons of my life as a parent.

when a new baby arrives and your firstborn struggles

As Jase woke up from his newborn sleepiness, he started crying — and basically didn’t stop for months. I spent my days holding a screaming baby, exhausted and stretched thin. I extended Cruz’s preschool hours, convincing myself it was best for him, even though I was really just drowning.

One morning, I dropped him off and he clung to me, crying. His teacher said, “Mommy has to go home to take care of the baby now,” and in that instant, Cruz’s worst fear was spoken aloud:

You’re not as important anymore. Mommy loves the baby more.

I still tear up writing about it. I remember the way his face crumpled. The way he stared at me, sobbing, as I left. I should have corrected her. I should have scooped him up. But in my hormonal, overwhelmed state, I kissed his head, whispered that I loved him, and walked out.

It still haunts me.

How Behavior Changes When a Child Feels Unseen

Over the next few weeks, Cruz began to shift.

He wasn’t my gentle, easy boy anymore. He hit. He bit. He melted down constantly. He was angry, defiant, and sometimes rough with the baby — watching me closely to see what I’d do.

And at night, when I tried to snuggle him, he pushed me away. He wanted Daddy. Not me.

Inside, I was a mess. Postpartum, anxious, sad, and ashamed that I couldn’t seem to meet either of my children’s needs.

The Night Everything Changed

One night, after another long, painful day, I lay beside him in the dark and whispered a prayer for a way back to him. Then the words came.

I said softly:

“Sometimes having a baby brother is really hard.”

Silence.

“Sometimes you miss when it was just you and me.

Sometimes you feel really sad, or mad, that he’s here.”

I kept going.

“I understand. And I love you. No matter what.”

The room was quiet. Then, in the smallest voice, he said:

“Keep talking about brothers.”

I’ll never forget it.

So I named every emotion I imagined he might be carrying. I told him he mattered to me. That I saw him. That nothing — not even a new baby — could take his place in my heart.

He slowly curled into me and fell asleep.

The next morning, something was different. He still struggled, but not as sharply. He didn’t pull away from me as much. He felt… lighter. And for the first time in months, I felt hope.

What Children Really Need — To Feel Seen and Heard

Cruz needed to know that his experience mattered. That his feelings were real. That he wasn’t alone.

Because truly — if your parents don’t make you feel like your feelings matter, who will?

As I learned more about conscious parenting and emotional intelligence, I realized I’d been responding on autopilot for years. Explaining. Rationalizing. Minimizing. Just like his teacher did. Just like so many of us do because it’s how we were raised.

But children calm down faster when they feel seen. Their bodies soften. Their eyes clear. They let you in again.

This is the power of acknowledgment.

Carl Rogers said it best:

“When a person realizes he has been deeply heard, his eyes moisten… It is as though he were saying, ‘Thank God, somebody heard me. Someone knows what it’s like to be me.’”

How I Started Parenting With Connection *and* Boundaries

A huge misconception is that acknowledging feelings means giving in. It doesn’t.

It actually makes boundaries easier because your child feels respected and understood.

I began saying things like:

- “You really don’t like that I’m nursing Jase right now. I see that. I need five more minutes. Can you bring a book to read together?”

- “You want Daddy to put you to bed. I get it. Tonight it’s my turn. Give Daddy a hug and then you can choose our bedtime book.”

I wasn’t bending. I wasn’t caving. I was leading — with connection.

Why Repair Matters More Than Perfection

I grew up in a constant state of overwhelm, so helping my boys understand and move through their feelings is one of the most important things I can do.

And what surprised me most is this:

You don’t have to get it right the first time. Repairing a hard moment is just as powerful as handling it well in real time.

When you see the situation clearly later, you can always return and say:

“I really got that wrong. I didn’t understand your perspective. I see why you felt sad/angry/scared.”

I often say things like, “I really got that wrong with you. I’m sorry. Can I try again?”

That’s connection. That’s healing. That’s the work of conscious parenting.

The Moment That Changed Everything

My transformation began during the brutally hard transition to having a second child, when I felt like I was losing my emotional connection with Cruz. My heart was breaking, and it suddenly hit me: his heart might be breaking too.

Finding a way to make him feel truly seen — even in his hardest moments — shifted our relationship in ways I never expected.

Here’s the article that helped me: The Key to Your Child’s Heart.

One Small Step You Can Take Today

What’s one moment you can revisit with your child today?

What’s one way you can help them feel seen and understood?

Start there. It’s never too late to repair, reconnect, and deepen your relationship.

The greatest feeling in the world is feeling seen and understood, and it’s a gift that often only you can give your child.

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