Just Anther Foster Mom

Foster care is not for the weak. It's a journey full of highs and lows — some days you're flying, and other days you feel like you’re barely holding on.

Some days, the kids care. They open up, they laugh, they connect. Other days, they push you away with words or silence, testing every boundary just to see if you’ll still be there. Sometimes they seem to hate you. And honestly? Some days, it hurts more than I can say.

But I’ve come to understand — that pushback isn’t personal. It’s pain. It’s fear. It’s survival. It’s the aftershocks of a childhood that’s been anything but stable. And while I may be on the receiving end of their hurt, I know it’s because I’m in a place close enough to matter.

I truly love what I’m doing for these kids. With everything in me. I’ve opened up my home and heart to children who need consistency, safety, and love — and I do it willingly. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Some days I question if it’s making any difference. I pour everything I have into them, and sometimes it feels like it just disappears into the void.

There are moments I lie awake at night wondering, Am I enough? Is this helping? Do they even feel loved?

But I remind myself: Even when it feels like nothing, it is something. Every meal cooked, every tear wiped, every boundary held, every time I choose to stay calm instead of breaking — it matters. These small things are bricks in the foundation of healing, even if the structure takes years to reveal itself.

What brought me here today? Maybe it was just one of those heavy days — the kind where the house feels too quiet after a storm of emotions, and all you’re left with is the echo of your own doubt. Or maybe it was the weight of holding space for someone else’s pain, day after day, with no instant signs of progress. The truth is, no one really knows what to tell you. No manual, no training, no well-meaning advice fully prepares you for the emotional toll.

But despite all that — I wouldn’t trade it.

Because then come the tiny glimmers:

A soft “thank you” whispered at bedtime.

A moment of eye contact where once there was none.

A picture drawn for you at school.

A quiet hug without a word.

Those moments? They are everything.

To anyone else on this road: I see you. I know how heavy it can feel. But please hear this — what you’re doing matters. Not because it’s perfect, not because you always get it right, but because you show up. You stay. You love through the hard. That is powerful.

You may never get the thank-you you deserve. But you’re changing lives anyway.

Keep going. You are not alone.

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