Dear all, Yasmina Al Hahbare is not only a mother of four, but also a family counsellor and founder of the parenting coaching service Lotus Principle (you can find her on Instagram here). In her work, she supports families with emotional development, high sensitivity and connection in everyday family life. She has written a personal column for us about her highly sensitive child, guilt and unconditional sibling love.
„It was one of those days again. One of those days when I was simply exhausted. Alone again with two small children, aged two and four, heavily pregnant and completely at my wits’ end. Dave didn’t come home; work wouldn’t let him
go, and I sat there – at our kitchen table, worn out and having long since broken down inside.
Highly Sensitive Child: „I didn’t know that before“!
My son, who was two at the time, is highly sensitive. I didn’t know that at the time, though. All I knew was: he was different. Demanding. Loud. Easily overstimulated. Nothing suited him. Clothes bothered him, noises were too much, little things could throw him completely off balance. He cried a lot, screamed a lot and flew into a rage incredibly quickly. Often, I didn’t even understand why.
And no matter how hard I tried — it never seemed to be right. Today I know: he often didn’t know himself what was good for him. But back then, for months on end, I stood before a child who was constantly at his emotional limit, and tried somehow to guide him through every tantrum, every bout of grief and every crisis. Sometimes that could take up a whole day.
The big brother rises to the occasion
And then there was my older son. Four years old. Full of patience and compassion. A boy who far too often had to take the brunt of it physically, because Ben didn’t know what to do with all his feelings. Matchbox cars flew through the air, doors slammed, hands
shoved. And the more I tried to stop this behaviour, the clearer one thing became to me: I couldn’t do it.
There were moments when I truly thought I couldn’t cope. And sometimes I even thought I couldn’t love my own child anymore. Not because I didn’t want to — but because the connection between us was slowly being lost amidst all the fighting. With every argument, another piece of it disappeared. Yet I wanted nothing more than to have that very connection back.
The pressure from outside was growing ever greater
But the pressure was mounting outside our home too. Walking through town with him was a walk of shame. Eventually, people recognised us. His loud tantrums. My desperate attempts to somehow keep the situation under control.
I just walked through the streets with my head down. Family members criticised my ‘parenting style’. Of course, the criticism was always directed at me. No matter where we were — life simply seemed to be too much for Ben. And I was simply not enough.
And then came that one day.
After Ben had lashed out at his big brother again and thrown Matchbox cars at him, I first tended to the older one, watched the younger one lock himself in his room, full of shame, and finally sat down at the table. I buried my head in my hands and began to cry bitterly.
Then I suddenly heard myself ask: “Sam, why do you keep playing with Ben? How do you manage that?” Not exactly a shining moment in my mum career. Sam just sat there, looked at me with his four-year-old eyes and said in a
calm voice: “Mum, Ben is just the way he is.”
I stopped crying immediately.
“I like Ben”: No judgement, no anger, no eye-rolling
No judgement. No anger. No exasperated eye-rolling. No attempt to change his brother. Just acceptance. He stood up, walked towards the children’s room and added: “I like Ben.” Shortly afterwards, I heard the two of them playing again. And suddenly there was peace. Not in the room. But in my head.
To this day, I believe that was one of the most important sentences of my entire life as a mum. It felt as though all the pressure had vanished in an instant. All the voices. All the expectations. All the guilt. Because yes — the journey with a highly sensitive child isn’t always easy. But if we’re honest: what journey with children ever is?
“Ben is just the way Ben is.”
Every person is as unique as life itself. And for Ben? That sentence was probably one of the greatest gifts of love he ever received — without him ever realising just how much it changed things. Because from that moment on, I stopped fighting against my child.
I marched side by side with him, in step, through the front line. Today, in my work as a family counsellor, I meet many parents who are at exactly this point. Parents who are tired. Overwhelmed. Who love their child more than anything and yet sometimes feel at a loss.
And every time, I think back to that one sentence: “Ben is just the way Ben is.”“
