The Quiet Power of a Baby’s Trust
It was a sunny Friday afternoon when my wonderful colleague, Dr. Yuli, asked me to take a second look at a four-month-old baby I’ll call Xavier. He had fallen onto a toy and sustained a small laceration. When I entered the room, I found a teary-eyed mother and a cheerful Xavier, who giggled as he reached for my crystal necklace.
On exam, the laceration was one that would benefit from closure. Dr. Yuli and I, alongside Mom, gently positioned Xavier so we could clean, prep, and apply liquid skin adhesive. There was a brief moment of bleeding and a few tears, but both subsided quickly, and Xavier soon returned to his playful self.
I reflected aloud that this is a child who feels safe—he seemed to trust that he would be cared for and that all would be well. There is something breathtakingly beautiful about witnessing that kind of security. I reassured Mom that the injury was unlikely to cause any long-term harm, and an her sigh of relief filled the room. I invited her to offer herself grace, reminding her that children can sense self-judgment and criticism. Perfect parents are not required; present and loving ones are.
In my own therapeutic journey, I am learning to extend that same compassion to my inner children—something I did not consistently receive in my own childhood. Xavier’s spirit serves as a gentle reminder: it is not what happens to us, but how we respond. As Viktor Frankl wrote, “Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.”
Today, I choose love—for myself and for my inner children. I choose to protect my peace and my divinity, much like a four-month-old baby instinctively protects his own.
