The Challenge of Raising a Girl With Dreams Bigger Than Mine

I read to my daughter, a spicy little eight-month-old with a bookshelf stacked in color-coded rows. While I turn the pages, she snatches the cardboard texts from my hands, exploring each new texture mostly with her mouth. Her eyes widen at the bursts of color and the images of landscapes, people, and objects she’s meeting for the first time.

This little ritual — the nightly books, the bright pages, the chewing and studying — holds my entire philosophy of parenting. Being a career counselor means I can’t help thinking about things I’m not sure non-counselor parents even worry about. I wonder about the identity she’ll form, I worry about how to build her self-efficacy, and I obsess over the kinds of experiences that will spark her curiosity. A question loops in my mind more often than I care to admit: How do I raise a girl who dreams bigger than me?

At this early stage, she is observing everything. Her brain is growing faster than it ever will again in her lifetime, and I feel the weight of that. I’m aware of the responsibility to shape her environment with intention — through books, through play, and through my own behaviors. They are always watching. 

In the small moments of our daily life, I try—without any commitment to perfection—to build her up. Here are a few of the qualities I’m trying to nurture:

• Curiosity — I take her to new places, even if it’s just a walk down a street we haven’t explored before. We talk about the things we see and mostly in Spanish, I narrate the world back to her.

• Self-Efficacy — I let her try things, even if it slows us down or makes a mess. Lately she’s insisted on holding the spoon while she eats, so we hand her one and let her ‘feed’ herself. We don’t make a show of it; we just quietly communicate through our actions that we trust her capacity to figure things out.

  
  

  Her spicy side shows up when things don’t go the way she imagined, and she becomes visibly frustrated. When that happens, I redirect her attention and then set her up to try again once she’s calmed down.

  
  

• Growth Language — My bebecita is learning to use sign language to show when she’s hungry. She hasn’t quite mastered it yet and often can’t communicate then frustration bursts out. Still, she’s made small progress—she’s starting to recognize her hand. When I raise mine to make the milk sign, she looks at her hand and has even made the sign herself a few times, though sporadically.

  
  

  Seeing her effort and praising her with an enthusiastic “Bravooo!” brings a smile to her face and usually distracts her from crying while I quickly prepare her bottle. She hasn’t perfected it yet, but I’m certain that simply reminding her of her attempts is reassuring.

  
  

• Representation & Belonging — Some of our favorite adventures have been museums — the Crocker, the California Museum, and our current favorite, the California Academy of Sciences. In these spaces we discover new things together and see people of all backgrounds. One of the most powerful exhibits was at the Women Inspire exhibit, she stared up at Dolores Huerta, Serena Williams, and the Indigenous leader Toypurina while Beyoncé’s ‘Who Runs the World’ hummed in the background. Watching her take in those faces — women who changed things — reminded me how early representation begins. My favorite stories to share with her are always about powerful women.

• Possibility Exposure — My favorite book to read to her is Dream Big, Little One, a children’s book that celebrates trailblazing Black women in American history. It highlights women across the decades who stood up to societal obstacles—women who were confident and dared to pursue dreams bigger than those of their ancestors.

  
  

  As I read the final line, “So wherever you go, whatever you do, be bold and dream big, the world is waiting for you,” my chiquita’s eyes sparkle and my heart swells.

  
  

  In that moment, my mind races with hopes—that she will see systems that support her dreams instead of barriers, that she will find allies who help her rise instead of forces that try to make her shrink

We nurture dreams by creating space for hope, by encouraging questions and wonder, and by celebrating every small step forward. Dreams begin with what we’ve seen. I want her to see more than I ever did — in stories, in her imagination, and in her own little world.

The ability to chase those dreams, though, comes from building a mindset that believes in her potential. And that mindset grows from watching others — especially me — model what it means to dream out loud, talk about our goals, and work toward them steadily, even when it’s hard. At home, we talk about our goals openly. When we can, we bring her along so she witnesses our professional strides and wins. We show her that dreams are not just wishes but plans in motion. I want her to know that dreaming isn’t a quiet hope; it’s a daily practice of belief, effort, and resilience.

Yo sueño para que tú sueñes, bebé. I dream so you can dream, baby.

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