I found myself wanting to jump into a conversation just a few feet away, eager to clarify and defend, but I held back. I leaned in slightly, curious about how my kids would respond to a new friend who had just inquired about my daughter’s distinct skin condition.
“He has a skin addition,” my son Jake declared, and I couldn’t help but chuckle at his mix-up, clearly meaning “skin condition.” Yet, upon reflection, “skin addition” was quite fitting—after all, Ava’s body does create more skin than usual!
“Yep,” Ava added with a smile.
“Oh,” replied the little girl, watching Ava intently. She seemed satisfied with that explanation and returned to her game alongside my children.
I could have elaborated further. I could have shared that Ava was born this way, that she battles dry skin, and that she uses lotion which gives her a slight sheen—that this is simply how she was made. But would my input have changed the situation? Would it have made the little girl feel uncomfortable for asking? Would my intervention have drawn unnecessary attention to Ava? Would I have inadvertently shielded my daughter from a moment she could navigate herself?
One of my most cherished goals as a mother is to nurture autonomy, self-esteem, and resilience in my children, allowing them to engage with the world confidently and understand their unique beauty as creations of an incredible God. With Ava, who encounters the world with her own physical differences, I find myself stepping back more often—though reluctantly—encouraging her to spread her wings instead of keeping her sheltered.
I recognize that Ava will face various reactions to her skin condition, whether I’m present or not. Thus, I’m grappling with what often feels like a lack of advocacy, but what I hope will ultimately be the best gift: the chance to speak for herself. I strive to give her support and encouragement, rather than dictating how she should feel. I want to ensure that my words do not become her own, nor my reactions shape her responses.
As her mom, my experiences are often tinged with protectiveness and defensiveness. I am keenly aware that my emotional responses can sometimes overshadow her own experiences. It’s vital for Ava’s confidence and inner strength to navigate inquiries and choose her responses independently, rather than mirroring my reactions. What she feels when faced with stares and comments will differ significantly from what I feel as her parent. I hope we can mutually support each other as we embrace every new experience and season of life, embodying a grace-filled advocacy aligned with our divine purpose.
Regardless of physical differences, I believe our children often benefit more from our restraint than our intervention.
A few months ago, Ava excitedly recounted an encounter with a new boy in her preschool class. He had pointed at her and said, “Your face is red.”
“What did you say?” we asked her.
“I said, ‘yes,’” she replied with confidence.
No shame. No embarrassment. Just a simple acknowledgment: Yes, that’s how I look.
With that one-word response, all those moments in the past when I had stiffened in response to children’s questions became what I had hoped for: opportunities to teach my daughter pride in her identity and the ability to engage with others on her own terms.
For more insights on navigating parenting in unique situations, check out our post on home insemination techniques. You can also learn about the intricacies of the process at Make a Mom and find excellent resources for pregnancy and home insemination at Healthline.
In summary, empowering our children—particularly those with physical differences—means stepping back at times and allowing them to define their own identities. Through this approach, we can foster resilience, confidence, and pride in who they are.