Written in the Stars: Why Language Matters in Adoption by Matt (CEO and Founder of Proud 2 b Parents)

Words hold power.

They shape how we see the world, how we understand ourselves, and how we relate to one another. In the world of adoption and fostering, language doesn’t just describe relationships — it defines them. It builds (or breaks) identity, influences how families are perceived, and carries an emotional weight that can’t be ignored.

I don’t often share personal or political reflections in public forums, but a recent article about language in adoption sparked something in me. It touched on a shift in terminology — “first family” in place of birth family, and “out-of-home care” to describe where adopted children now live. While I recognise that these changes often come from a place of good intent, I believe we need to look more closely at their impact — especially on the children and families living this reality every day.

As a parent through adoption and a long-term foster carer, I find these terms troubling. They risk reducing complex, loving, and lifelong relationships into temporary or transactional language. And that’s not just inaccurate — it’s potentially harmful.

Let me be clear:

I am not my child’s “second family.” Our home is not an “out-of-home care” placement. We are not a substitute. We are his family.

Our home is a place of safety and belonging — a nurturing space built on trust, healing, and unconditional love. For children who may of experienced trauma, loss, or neglect, language that frames their new family as a secondary option, or their home as a care setting, can be deeply unsettling. It can reinforce feelings of instability or shame — even when everything around them is telling them they are finally safe and loved.

The Impact of Language: What the Research Says

Research from linguistics, psychology, and trauma-informed care shows that language doesn’t just reflect reality — it constructs it. The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, widely referenced in sociolinguistics, suggests that the language we use can influence how we think and feel. In adoption, this means that terms like “first family” or “out-of-home care” can shape how children internalise their experiences, affecting their self-esteem and identity development.

Studies in trauma-informed practice also highlight the importance of validating lived experience through careful word choice. According to the British Psychological Society, the narratives we offer children — especially those who’ve experienced adversity — need to empower, not alienate. Misapplied or overly clinical language can retraumatise, isolate, or distort a child’s sense of belonging.

In adoption-specific contexts, research from Adoption UK and the Centre for Research on Children and Families has shown that children adopted from care often feel caught between two worlds. The language professionals use plays a significant role in whether those children feel safe, anchored, and truly “at home” in their adoptive families.

So while shifts in terminology may aim to be more inclusive or balanced, if they are not co-produced with those directly affected — adoptive families, and, most importantly, the children themselves — they risk doing more harm than good.

A Family Formed by Love

This picture was taken 20 minutes after our first meeting, on day 1 of our introductions back in November 2017.

I understand the importance of recognising a child’s life story. Honouring birth connections is vital. But the language we use to do so must be thoughtful and balanced. Terms like “first family” may appear respectful on the surface, but they can unintentionally suggest that adoptive families are lesser — an afterthought rather than a central, enduring presence in a child’s life.

For my family, our bond isn’t rooted in biology — it’s something much deeper. Our love feels timeless, like it existed long before we met. One of our favourite books, I’ve Loved You Since Forever, captures that perfectly. It tells the story of stars in the sky — a family waiting to find each other. That’s exactly how we see ourselves. My husband, my son, and I were searching the universe, waiting to align. And when we did, something clicked. The stars didn’t just align — they danced.

We weren’t formed by chance. We were meant to be. We’re a family built entirely from love — powerful, enduring, and unshakeable.

That’s why I don’t call myself an “adoptive parent.” My son isn’t an “adoptee”. He’s our son — full stop. I describe myself as a parent through adoption because that reflects my journey to parenthood. But it doesn’t define who I am to my child. That relationship was built, not labelled. It was created through shared moments, nurture, trust, and unconditional love.

A Call for Careful Co-Production

To those shaping language in adoption and fostering — professionals, academics, policymakers — I ask this:

-Let’s be intentional.

-Let’s co-produce these changes.

-Let’s listen to the families and children who live them.

Language should reflect reality, not redefine it. And in this reality, families like mine deserve to be seen for who we are — not the route we took to get here.

Let’s celebrate every story. But let’s also protect every child’s right to feel that their family is theirs. Complete. Permanent. Real.

Let’s get it right.