When I began fostering, I felt like I had prepared as much as any human possibly could. I read all the books. I watched the webinars. I went to the trainings. I talked to seasoned foster parents. I even practiced “holding space” for imaginary scenarios in my head. I was ready—or so I thought.

But no amount of preparation can fully equip you for the lived experience of foster parenting, especially in that first raw, vulnerable year.

Now, years later, as a therapist who supports foster and adoptive moms, I can look back on that time with a bit more grace. I see the mistakes I made—not with shame—but with curiosity and compassion. Because those missteps were also my greatest teachers.

Here are the biggest mistakes I made in my first year of fostering—and the lessons they taught me.

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Mistake #1: I Believed I Had to Be “The Perfect Foster Mom”

I cringe when I think back on how hard I tried to be perfect. I believed that if I said all the right things, handled every tantrum with calm wisdom, and kept my home spotless, it would somehow “prove” I was worthy of this sacred role.

What actually happened? I burned out. Fast.

Trying to be perfect is a surefire way to lose yourself. It’s unsustainable and honestly, unnecessary. Foster kids don’t need perfect parents. They need present ones.

What I Learned:
Perfection is a lie that keeps us disconnected. Authenticity is the real goal. I learned that I could cry in front of my kids, apologize when I messed up, and admit I didn’t know what I was doing—all without losing their trust. In fact, it built it.

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Mistake #2: I Ignored My Own Needs

There were days when I didn’t eat lunch, didn’t sit down, and definitely didn’t take five minutes to breathe. I believed that being selfless was a virtue. But I confused selflessness with self-neglect.

I didn’t just put myself last—I erased myself completely.

What I Learned:
You can’t pour from an empty cup. This phrase gets tossed around a lot, but living it is different. I started carving out small acts of self-care—not spa days, but 10-minute coffee breaks, therapy sessions, or quiet walks around the block. The more I cared for myself, the more I had to give.

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Mistake #3: I Took Things Personally

When our foster child rejected me, called me names, or shut down emotionally, I felt crushed. I interpreted their behavior as a reflection of my failures. Why wasn’t I getting through? Why didn’t they trust me? Why wasn’t I enough?

But trauma has a way of distorting connection. Kids in care aren’t rejecting us—they’re protecting themselves.

What I Learned:
Behavior is communication. I stopped taking things personally and started asking, “What is this behavior trying to tell me?” That shift changed everything. It softened my heart and gave me the patience I desperately needed.

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Mistake #4: I Didn’t Ask for Enough Help

I had this stubborn belief that I should be able to handle everything on my own. I said no to help from friends. I didn’t speak up when I felt overwhelmed. I stayed silent about the hard stuff because I didn’t want to seem ungrateful or incapable.

And let’s be honest: there’s a lot of pressure in foster care to “keep it together.”

What I Learned:
Help is not a weakness—it’s a necessity. I began reaching out to other foster moms, finding support groups, and letting friends into my messy reality. Vulnerability created connection, and connection created strength. If you’re feeling alone, you’re not failing—you’re just in need of community.

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Mistake #5: I Tried to “Fix” My Kids’ Pain

I wanted to make it all better. I wanted to be the safe place that erased the hurt, replaced the trauma, healed the wounds.

But healing doesn’t happen on my timeline. It doesn’t happen through bandaids or false optimism. And most importantly, it’s not my job to fix—it’s my job to walk alongside.

What I Learned:
Witnessing pain without trying to erase it is the real work. I learned to sit in the discomfort, to listen instead of speak, and to offer consistency rather than solutions. That’s what safety actually feels like to a child who’s been let down before.

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Mistake #6: I Believed Love Was Enough

Love is powerful—but it’s not a cure-all. I thought if I loved hard enough, that would be the magic wand.

But trauma needs more than love. It needs therapy, structure, predictability, boundaries, and time.

What I Learned:
Love is the foundation, but it’s not the whole house. I learned to combine love with tools—trauma-informed parenting strategies, consistent routines, professional support. I also stopped feeling guilty that love alone wasn’t “working.” Because this isn’t a Hallmark movie. It’s real life.

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Mistake #7: I Didn’t Set Boundaries With The System

I was so eager to be “the good foster parent” that I said yes to every call, every request, every court date—even when it hurt my family’s rhythm.

There were times I felt like the least important voice in the room, like I was being walked over. But I didn’t speak up. I didn’t want to seem difficult.

What I Learned:
Boundaries protect everyone—including your foster child. I learned to advocate firmly but kindly. I asked questions. I said no when necessary. I reminded myself that I am the expert on my home—and that matters.

 

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Mistake #8: I Thought I Had to Be the Hero

I wanted to be the one who changed everything. But that mindset—however well-meaning—is dangerous. It centers us when really, foster care is about centering the child.

What I Learned:
I am a chapter, not the whole story. My role is not to “save” a child but to serve them. That means humbling myself, learning constantly, and sometimes stepping back so biological families can heal. Being the “hero” might feel good, but being human is what’s actually needed.

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Mistake #9: I Didn’t Celebrate the Small Wins

I was so focused on the big picture—healing, growth, reunification—that I missed the everyday victories: the first smile, the day without a meltdown, the snuggle on the couch.

Those moments mattered. They were proof of connection, however fleeting.

What I Learned:
Joy lives in the small stuff. I started noticing it more. Naming it. Celebrating it. Even writing it down so I could return to it on the hard days. Because sometimes, hope looks like a quiet Tuesday night when nobody’s yelling—and that’s enough.

That first year of fostering was messy, beautiful, exhausting, sacred. I made a lot of mistakes. But I also kept showing up.

If you’re in your first year of fostering (or thinking about jumping in), know this: you will mess up. That’s part of the deal. But mistakes don’t disqualify you. In fact, they’ll probably become your greatest sources of wisdom, growth, and empathy.

Give yourself grace. Reach out for help. Learn as you go. You’re not alone—and you’re doing better than you think.

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Come Join the Foster Mama Lifeline Community

If you’re craving real talk, compassionate support, and a circle of women who get it—you belong in the Foster Mama Lifeline.

This is a safe, judgment-free space I created just for foster and adoptive moms who want to feel seen, supported, and not so alone in the ups and downs of this journey.

Inside the Lifeline, you’ll get:

• Weekly encouragement and resources tailored to YOU

• Honest conversations about the hard stuff (and the good stuff, too)

• Access to a private community of foster mamas who truly understand

• Tools to take care of yourself while you’re caring for others

👉 Join us today and let’s walk this road together. Click here to learn more and sign up.

You don’t have to do this alone. And you don’t have to figure it all out. You just have to keep showing up. We’ll be here to cheer you on every step of the way.