The first encounter I had with my son’s birth mother was far from pleasant. She cast a scowl in my direction that was almost palpable. I felt a wave of intimidation wash over me. This was my first experience with fostering, and our initial meeting happened unexpectedly during a visit when the supervising worker had stepped out briefly. Having grown up in the foster care system herself, she viewed child services—and by extension, me—as adversaries.
I regret to admit that I was too focused on my role as a caregiver to truly understand her perspective. My primary concern was her son, which is as it should have been, but I failed to recognize the immense challenges she was facing. Instead, I found myself caught up in judging her.
My husband and I never intended to adopt; we were fostering simply because we had the capacity to help. We were novices, unfamiliar with the emotional twists and turns that accompany foster parenting. The certification process had taken us 11 months longer than we had expected. On the day we received our certification, we informed our worker that we wanted to start with just one child, up to age six, to ensure a smooth transition. She advised us that finding a single child could take a while, as most placements involve sibling groups. We were okay with waiting. But by 3 p.m. that same day, a 1-month-old baby was at our doorstep, forever altering our lives.
As the case progressed, we navigated the usual complexities: court dates, psychological assessments, and visits with parents—some of which ended without the parents showing up. I didn’t see the birth mother often, but when I did, I tried to be cordial and supportive. My primary worry was losing her son. “She doesn’t deserve him,” I often told myself. “She should have made better choices.” My judging tendencies filled every spare moment.
About eight months into the case, a significant change occurred when she entered a residential program aimed at helping her achieve sobriety and adhere to her safety plan. Even with her commendable progress, my judgment lingered.
By then, visits had become routine. I would notify the visit supervisor when we arrived, and she would take the baby in for his visit. Afterward, she would return him to my car. Occasionally, I would catch a glimpse of the birth mother glaring at me through the window—until one day when everything changed. The night before, there had been flowers at the residential home during dinner. She asked if she could take some with her. The next day, after her visit, I was taken aback to see her carrying the baby out to my car. We both approached each other awkwardly until we reached the building’s entrance. She handed me the baby, offered me a small bouquet of flowers tied with string, and said, “I want to honor you and thank you. Happy Mother’s Day.”
That moment struck me profoundly. We were both overwhelmed with emotion. We hugged and cried together. For the first time since the case began, I truly saw her—her vulnerability, her fears, her grief. Her heartfelt gesture inspired me to finally adopt the supportive role I should have embraced from the start: as a cheerleader and helper, free from judgment. From that point forward, everything shifted. I looked forward to seeing her and sharing milestones in her son’s life. I even created a photo album chronicling his first year. She felt like family to me, and I found myself torn between my desire to keep our son and my hope for her success.
Despite the warmth of that memory, I am haunted by guilt and shame for not being the first to extend my hand. I am in awe of her strength to reach out to me instead. She has faced countless challenges in her life, and even as she continues to battle her struggles, I see resilience and strength in her—qualities that are now evident in my son. I feel proud that he carries these traits from her that will benefit him throughout his life. That day marked the moment I ceased judging her and all the other birth mothers we encountered during our three years as foster parents. Recognizing her humanity revealed how similar we are, and it highlighted the privileges many of us were afforded in our upbringing. I couldn’t help but reflect on how different my life might have been had circumstances been reversed.
Foster parenting is a challenging journey, filled with emotional highs and lows that can leave even the most resilient individuals reeling. My husband and I emerged from our foster care experience with an adopted son and nine other children who will forever hold a special place in our hearts. We carry with us an abundance of love and a newfound understanding that transcends judgment.
For more insights into family building, check out some of our other posts, such as this one on home insemination techniques here. If you’re considering this path, resources like Make a Mom can be invaluable. For information on intrauterine insemination, visit this excellent resource.
In summary, my journey into foster parenting led me to profound realizations about empathy, connection, and the shared struggles of birth mothers. It reshaped my perspective and helped me grow as a person and a parent.