What My Daughter Sees That Most Adults Can’t Handle
And what my inner child is doing about it because adults are weird and babies are magical.
Dear ones,
This space has become a living altar. A place where I’m sharing more of my journey as a mother, mystic, teacher, and human trying to stay tender in a world that asks us to harden.
And now… I’m being called to shift.
As of this month, many of my Substack posts will move to the paid tier to invite depth. To create a sacred container where the labor of love is met with love in return.
If you’ve been nourished by my writing, my meditations, or my presence online, I invite you to walk with me a little more closely. Thank you for walking with me. I’ll share more of what will live behind the updated paywall soon.
Your support means more than you know, especially as a new mama.
With love and breath,
Sara
What My Daughter Sees That Most Adults Can’t Handle…
My precious eight month old daughter doesn’t smile on command in the presence of a stranger. She doesn’t coo to make them feel welcomed. Her gaze is piercing and present
Mind you, at home she is all smiles and laughter and affection. If only they knew!
But most adults don’t know what to do with her nonperformance. Bless them because they always approach her with adoration. They say she’s beautiful, ask how old she is, often get too close making me have to step back because, personal space (!!!) and then, as she holds their gaze pensively and unwavering, discomfort follows. They start fidgeting, saying something like, “you’re not gonna smile for me?” while silently processing having just been deeply observed by a baby in a way they weren’t expecting.
My daughter doesn’t just look. She listens with her eyes.
In the early days, I first became aware of the power of her stare.
Her eyes were bright and wide open just after birth. She would gaze up at me in quiet wonder. But when I’d look down to meet her eyes, she would quickly look away. I found this fascinating. To be so new and yet so cautious. It was as if she was asking, “Is it safe to look at you, to connect?”
And each time we’d do the eye contact dance, I’d whisper gently to her, “It’s safe for you to look at me, little one. You are safe.”
Until one day, she held my gaze. Fully. And it was magical. And something ancient passed between us. A sacred yes. And we have been staring at each other since.
Once she felt safe to hold eye contact with me her gaze became unflinching and sharp. She would stare into the core of my existence. I lowkey felt judged by my newborn.
I’d have to whisper to myself, “She is pure. She is innocent. She’s not judging you. She’s just taking you in. Let her. It is safe.”
A lot of children have their sight conditioned out of them because their gaze makes adults uncomfortable.
Many children are told:
“Don’t stare.”
“Mind your business.”
“You're being rude.”
What that means to a child:
“There is something wrong with you. Your presence is too much.”
Growing up, I learned to soften my gaze. Obedience was survival. And to look too long was seen as utter disrespect. This is also, I suspect, when we as children begin to stuff down our ancestral and cosmic gifts. We learn that it is not safe to show up fully. The gaze is the first to go.
So when my tiny little baby girl felt safe enough to look at me fully, without turning away, I had to rewire myself to receive it.
And in doing that, I did something my inner child had never been given: the opportunity to let my presence be enough. We can both safely show up as ourselves. There is nothing to hide.
I’m constantly working on how I show up when people get uncomfortable with her gaze. In the beginning I would try to make her smile for strangers but she wouldn't budge. I would then feel like I failed my child because I didn't honor her. I overlooked her own intuition and chose to people please instead. Yuck to people pleasing—something else I was forced into as a child in order to survive. I am still, still(!!!!!) healing from it.
So I have created responses before we even leave the house for prospective disappointed souls. Luckily we don’t leave the house often. And in preparing, I am learning how to honor my child while healing my inner child who was not protected around strangers.
My top responses thus far have been:
“She’s very observant”
“She likes to take everything in”
And when I'm feeling feisty:
“Don't take it personal”
Because adults really be taking this baby’s selective smiling personally. And sometimes, she does smile. I feel relieved and proud when it happens because her smile is honestly everything! But also, her being selective invites me to trust her. She knows energy and doesn’t question it. I will follow her lead. And I will work on trusting my own intuition that much more, unapologetically.
I want her to grow up never doubting what she sees or feels, never questioning the clarity in her body, never believing that her presence must shrink to soothe others. Where presence is not a performance, it’s power.
I’m still healing the part of me that learned to perform.
But every time I protect my little one’s gaze, I rewrite a line in my own story. Every time I choose truth over politeness, I remind both of us that we are allowed to see and be seen without flinching.
Whether that makes some adults uncomfortable isn't our responsibility. And also, let’s stop expecting babies to perform for us, for goodness sake.
Reflection Time:
What did your gaze used to see before the world asked you to lower it?
How would you show up differently if you honored your inner knowing?
What would shift if you no longer felt obligated to respond in a way that always puts the other person's comfort first?
In conversation are you comfortable holding someone’s gaze? Why or why not?
Look at yourself in the mirror for one minute with no judgement. Just witness your beautiful gaze.
So deeply wise. Lucky girls!🙏🏼