As a mother of young children, I’ve become increasingly aware of how powerful words are—especially when it comes to how we speak about our children. When I talk about my kids to other mothers, I’m intentional about choosing words that are loving and respectful, knowing they play a role in shaping their emotional and spiritual development. At the same time, I’m mindful of how I respond when they act out. Like most parents, I lean on trusted friends and family during challenging seasons, but I’ve come to understand that how we talk about our children matters just as much as how we respond to them.
Children will make mistakes at every stage of life. That’s part of growth, and our role as parents is not to label those moments, but to guide, support, and help them mature through them. Parenting is not about perfection—it’s about being willing to learn, adjust, and grow alongside our children. The goal isn’t simply what we accomplish as parents, but who our children become because of how we love and lead them.
This perspective has been shaped deeply by my own experience. I know firsthand how damaging it can be when a child is labeled publicly, especially in ways that affect their identity. Identity begins forming in childhood and plays a critical role in development—it influences how we see ourselves, regulate our emotions, and move through relationships. When that identity is shaped by misrepresentation or misunderstanding, it can leave lasting wounds.
At one point, my adoptive parents chose to share a letter with members of our church and broader community explaining a diagnosis they believed I had. This wasn’t something shared in a small, private setting for support—it was distributed widely, shaping how others came to understand me. Rather than summarizing it, I think it’s important to show it as it was written, because it played a significant role in how I was perceived during a formative season of my life.
The letter read:
I am emailing you part of a blog that we wrote last week and sent to the people in our church. Hi everyone, I hope everyone of you is doing well. I hope you are seeing the wonderful works of the Lord in your lives. We have had a challenging week and a half. Some of you know that concerns have come up surrounding our youngest daughter, Bethany. We have made the decision to go public with the diagnosis we received on her about 4 years ago. We had suspected for quite a while, and then it became an actual diagnosis. She suffers from FASD, which stands for Fetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder. This is because when her birth mother in Cambodia was pregnant with her, the mother lived on the streets and drank alcohol. So, Bethany has permanent brain damage that she was born with, and it will never heal. This is not actually a mental health issue but organic brain damage. We have prayed for her at each stage of her life, and we know that God put her in our home. We love her dearly. The problem is that she is getting herself into bad trouble over and over because people with FASD cannot reason through what they do or understand the relationship between cause and effect. The reason we are going public with this diagnosis is that over the past couple of years, many of our friends have questioned some of the unreasonable things she does. It is to the point where our family needs others to understand that, because of FASD, Bethany is not capable of understanding the results or effects of her decisions, relationships, and actions. We won’t go into detail on this, and if you have never been aware of anything she has done, either you will one day, or you are too far removed from her and our family. She functions about like an 11 or 12 year old, and always will. Counseling or medication doesn’t help because this is physical brain damage, not anything else. So, we are asking, begging, for your understanding. Last year one person said we were “hiding behind her FASD”. The truth is that we aren’t hiding, of course, and not giving excuses, only giving you the reason that she acts and says the things she does. If, over the years, you have noticed some unusual lack of understanding or lack of reasoning in her, then you have seen her brain damage. She is just as though she was in an awful accident and had permanent brain damage, only she was born with it. What we need from you is understanding, and also feel very free to call us if you have a situation you need to ask us about. We have read multiple books on FASD, and we have attended seminars on it. The statistics show that 8% of those affected with FASD will be able to live independently, have jobs as adults and eventually get married. We pray that Bethany is in that 8%, but right now, we can’t see that. She is on the waiting list for lifetime Vocational Rehabilitation which will help her get a job. She is nearly at the top of the list and the wait has been a year. She is a wonderful driver so thankfully she has that ability. Please pray for our family as the other children in our family have had HUGE struggles with Bethany. This we know: God has blessed us with Bethany so that He can help our family members become the people He is trying to make us into. God doesn’t make mistakes, so he brought her to us 16 years ago, to bless us into becoming the people who can serve Him. One goal that family members of an FASD person has is this: To protect her from others, and to protect others from her. Pretty high aspirations! We treasure the prayer of others that we will be wise as parents and that our other children can see God’s mighty hand in our lives.
Reading it now, I can see both the intention behind it and the impact it had. While I understand that my parents may have been seeking support or trying to provide context for my behavior, the result was that something deeply personal became public, without space for growth, nuance, or my own voice. What was most difficult wasn’t just the content itself, but how it shaped the way others saw me. Once something like that is shared at that level, it becomes part of your identity in the eyes of others—often before they’ve had the chance to know you for themselves.
As I got older, I began questioning the narrative I had been given. I researched FASD, reviewed my own evaluations, and came to understand that there was far more complexity than what had been presented so definitively. That realization didn’t just challenge the label—it forced me to reevaluate how much of my identity had been shaped by something that wasn’t fully accurate.
Looking back, I can acknowledge that I struggled at times during my adolescence. I made mistakes, sought attention in unhealthy ways, and tried to navigate complex emotions without the tools to do so well. But those behaviors were not the result of a fixed identity or permanent condition—they were responses to unmet needs, confusion, and a desire to feel seen and understood. What I needed in those moments wasn’t a label—it was curiosity, compassion, and guidance.
When we label children instead of seeking to understand them, we risk missing what is actually happening beneath the surface. Behavior is often a form of communication, and when that communication is misunderstood, it can lead to deeper disconnection.
Now, as a parent myself, I see more clearly how much influence our words carry. The way we speak about our children—whether in private or in public—becomes part of how they see themselves. Words can build confidence and security, or they can create doubt and insecurity that lingers long after the moment has passed. This doesn’t mean we ignore difficult behavior or avoid seeking support—it means we approach those moments with wisdom and care, being mindful of how and where we share.
Children need boundaries, guidance, and correction, but they also need to know that their identity is not defined by their worst moments. Often, what looks like defiance is actually a request for help—a nonverbal way of expressing something they don’t yet have the words for.
Walking through motherhood has given me a deeper understanding of this balance. I still seek support, ask questions, and learn from others, but I’m intentional about protecting my children’s dignity in the process. I want them to grow up knowing they are safe, valued, and understood—not labeled or defined by temporary struggles.
Healing from my own experiences has been a process, one that continues over time. Rebuilding my sense of identity hasn’t happened overnight, but part of that healing has been choosing to reject the labels that were placed on me and learning to see myself more fully and truthfully.
Sharing this part of my story isn’t about placing blame—it’s about offering perspective. It’s about highlighting the impact our words can have and encouraging a more thoughtful, compassionate approach to parenting. If anything, my experiences have shaped the kind of mother I want to be—one who leads with grace, seeks understanding, and creates space for my children to grow into who they are, not who they’re labeled to be.
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